Chapter 3

Liam called a week into my forced exile.

"He's destroying you, Clara," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Come home. Dad will handle everything."

"Not yet, Liam," I said, looking out the window at the empty street. "I just need a little more time."

I hung up, clinging to a hope I knew was irrational.

That afternoon, everything changed. A wave of nausea sent me running to the bathroom. My hands trembled as I opened the test.

Two pink lines.

Pregnant.

A wild, fierce joy shot through me, so powerful it eclipsed everything else. A baby. Our baby. This would fix it. This had to fix it. He couldn't turn away from his own child.

I grabbed the test, threw on a coat, and ran out of the house. I had to tell him. I had to see his face.

The Innovatech campus was a short walk away. I saw him up ahead, talking on his phone on the pedestrian overpass that connected the two main buildings.

I was halfway up the concrete stairs when a voice stopped me.

"Going somewhere?"

Jessica stood at the top of the stairs, blocking my path. Her eyes locked onto the positive pregnancy test still clutched in my hand. The box with the sonogram appointment confirmation peeked out of my pocket. She saw it too.

Her friendly mask dissolved, replaced by a terrifying, raw fury.

"You think that will save you?" she hissed, her voice unrecognizable. "You think a baby will make him love you?"

"Jessica, get out of my way."

"He's mine!" she shrieked, her face contorted. "He was always supposed to be mine! I've worked too hard. You have no idea what I've done to keep him."

She took a step closer, her eyes wild. "That mugging? The one he feels so guilty about? There was no mugger, you stupid bitch. I was drunk. I wrapped my car around a telephone pole. I needed a story. I needed his guilt. It's the only thing that keeps him tied to me."

The confession hung in the air, a monstrous, ugly thing. All this time, all his guilt, all his resentment toward me-it was all built on her lie.

"You're insane," I whispered, taking a step back.

"And you're a problem," she snarled.

She lunged. Her hands slammed into my chest with shocking force.

My feet left the ground. The world turned upside down. I remember the sickening scrape of my body against the rough concrete, the sharp, percussive impacts as I tumbled down the long flight of stairs.

My last clear thought was of the baby.

I landed in a broken heap at the bottom. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. I looked down and saw the blood.

Through a haze of pain, I saw Ethan running toward the overpass. He had seen the commotion.

He got to the bottom of the stairs just as Jessica crumpled to the ground at the top, clutching her knee and sobbing.

"Ethan! She attacked me! She pushed me first!" she cried.

He looked at her, then down at me, lying broken and bleeding. His face was a mask of cold fury.

"The baby," I choked out, reaching a hand toward him. "Ethan, the baby..."

"You are toxic, Clara," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "You're a monster."

He turned his back on me. He ran up the stairs, scooped a wailing Jessica into his arms, and rushed her toward the urgent care clinic across the street for her scraped knee.

He never looked back.

The world began to fade to black. As the darkness closed in, I felt a wet warmth spread beneath me. It was the feeling of loss. Complete and total.