Chapter 3

The ambulance ride was a blur of pain and fear.

At the local hospital, nurses rushed around me.

"Pregnant, 26 weeks, heavy bleeding, abdominal trauma," someone shouted.

They wheeled me towards an operating room.

Through a gap in a curtain, I saw him.

Kevin.

He was in a waiting area, his arm around Jess.

She was leaning into him, looking pale but otherwise fine. He was stroking her hair, murmuring to her.

A minor pregnancy check-up, the universe mocked me.

He didn't even glance my way as I was rushed past.

He was already living his new life.

The doors to the OR closed.

Darkness.

I woke up slowly, confused.

The room was quiet, luxurious. Not the local hospital.

Sunlight streamed through a large window, showing a view of Central Park.

New York.

My mother, Eleanor Gold, sat beside my bed, her hand holding mine.

My father, Harrison Gold, stood by the window, his back to me. He looked older, tired.

"Mom?" My voice was raspy.

Her eyes, usually so composed, were filled with tears.

"Oh, Sarah, my baby," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Then I remembered. The blood. The pain. Kevin. Jess.

"My baby," I choked out. "Is my baby okay?"

My mother squeezed my hand tighter, tears streaming down her face.

She didn't need to say the words.

I knew.

The pain that ripped through me was worse than any physical injury.

My child. Gone.

Because of him.

My father turned then. His face was a mask of grief and cold fury.

"He'll pay for this, Sarah," he said, his voice like steel. "I swear to you, he will pay."

I closed my eyes, the emptiness inside me a vast, echoing cavern.

My baby was gone.

And a new, cold resolve began to form in the ruins of my heart.