Chapter 3

"Clean it up."

Alex' s command was flat, devoid of any emotion except cold authority.

The rage that had been simmering inside me finally boiled over. My father was dead. The man I married was a monster. And this woman was playing games while my world burned to the ground.

"No," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm done. I'm done cleaning up your messes."

I saw a flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by fury. No one said no to Alex Thorne. Especially not me.

"What did you just say to me?" he growled, taking a step forward.

"You heard me," I said, my voice gaining strength. "Give me the papers. I'm signing them, and I'm leaving."

He moved so fast I didn' t have time to react. He grabbed my shoulders and shoved me, hard.

"You leave when I say you can leave," he snarled.

My back hit the edge of the heavy mahogany desk. A searing pain shot through my lower abdomen, far sharper and more terrifying than before. I cried out, doubling over, my hands flying to my stomach.

A warm, wet sensation spread through my clothes.

Dread, cold and absolute, washed over me.

"No," I whispered, the word a prayer. "Please, no."

I looked down. A dark stain was blooming on the light fabric of my pants.

Blood.

"Alex..." I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. "The baby... something's wrong. I need a doctor."

He stared at me, his face unreadable for a second. Was that concern? A flicker of panic?

Then Sarah was there, her voice dripping with fake concern. "A baby? Oh, Chloe, the lengths you'll go to for attention. What did you do, spill your coffee?"

Alex' s face hardened again, the brief moment of humanity gone. He looked from me to the floor, where the broken coffee mugs lay in a brown puddle. He chose to believe the easier lie.

"Stop this pathetic act," he said, his voice laced with disgust. "You're not pregnant. You're just desperate."

"I am!" I screamed, the sound raw with pain and terror. "I'm bleeding, Alex! You have to help me!"

I tried to push past him, to get to the phone, to call for help, but he blocked my path. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You want to end up in a hospital? You want to end up like your father? Dead and alone in a cold, sterile room? Is that what you want?"

The threat hung in the air, suffocating me. He was using my father's death, my most profound wound, as a weapon against me.

The fight drained out of me, replaced by a chilling, hollow despair.

He was right. He had the power to do anything. He had let my father die. He would let me die too. He would let our baby die.

I stopped struggling. My body went limp, a puppet with its strings cut.

"Good girl," he said, misinterpreting my surrender as obedience. He released my arm. "Now, as you were told, clean it up."

I looked at the floor, at the shattered porcelain and the spilled coffee. My blood was mixing with it, a secret only I knew.

Slowly, mechanically, I knelt. The pain in my abdomen was a constant, throbbing agony. Each movement sent a fresh wave of it through me. I picked up the largest piece of a broken mug, my hand trembling.

Alex and Sarah watched me for a moment, satisfied.

"Let's go, baby," he said to her. "Let's leave her to her work."

They walked out of the study, their footsteps fading as they went downstairs. I heard the front door open and close. They were gone.

I stayed on my knees on the cold floor, surrounded by the debris of my life. The bleeding was getting worse. I could feel it.

A tear slid down my cheek, then another. They weren't tears of grief for my father anymore, or tears of humiliation.

They were tears for the tiny, flickering life inside me. A life I had wanted so desperately, a life that was now slipping away.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, a silent, heartbreaking apology.

I'm so sorry, I thought. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you.

The pain intensified, a sharp, twisting cramp that stole my breath. I collapsed onto my side, curling into a ball on the floor, a silent scream trapped in my throat.

The world began to spin, the edges of my vision turning dark. The last thing I saw before I passed out was the single blue baby sock, lying on the floor just inches from my face.