Chapter 3

Chloe glided into the clinic waiting room, Liam trailing behind her like a devoted puppy. He looked anxious, his eyes flitting between me and Chloe. He opened his mouth to say something, but Chloe spoke first, her voice loud enough for the night-shift nurse to hear.

"Darling," she said, placing a perfectly manicured hand on her own flat stomach. "I have the most wonderful news. We're pregnant!"

The words hit me like a physical blow. Liam looked uncomfortable, shooting me a nervous glance. I just stared back at him, my face completely blank. The architect in me had built a fortress around my heart, and the walls were a mile high. I wouldn't let him see my pain. I wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction.

"Ava, I-" he started.

I turned and walked away without a word. I left them standing there in the sterile light of the clinic, their lies and their twisted celebration echoing behind me.

I walked out into the cool night air, my mind a blank. I didn't have a destination. I just needed to move, to put distance between myself and them. I walked for blocks, the city a blur of indifferent lights.

A dark van screeched to a halt beside me.

Before I could react, two large men jumped out. One clamped a hand over my mouth, suffocating my scream. The other grabbed my arms, his grip like iron. They dragged me into the back of the van and threw me onto the cold metal floor. The door slammed shut, plunging us into darkness.

"What do you want?" I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

One of the men laughed, a low, ugly sound. "Our employer thinks you're a problem. An inconvenience that needs to be... removed."

"Who's your employer?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"The lovely Miss Chloe," the man sneered. "She said to make it look like an accident. A distraught, pregnant widow who couldn't handle the grief. Tragic."

He backhanded me across the face. Pain exploded in my cheek. They weren't just trying to scare me. They were going to kill me. And they were going to kill my baby.

A primal rage surged through me. They could destroy my life, they could take my love, but they would not take my child.

I fought.

I kicked, I scratched, I bit. I aimed for eyes, for throats, for groins. I was no match for them, but I fought with the ferocity of a mother protecting her young. I landed a solid kick to one man's knee, and he howled in pain.

His partner grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head against the side of the van. Stars burst behind my eyes. He hit me again. Then he drew back his foot and kicked me hard in the stomach.

An agony I had never known ripped through me. It was a searing, tearing pain that stole my breath and my will. I crumpled to the floor, a guttural scream tearing from my throat.

Something warm and wet soaked through my dress.

Blood. So much blood.

"No," I whimpered, clutching my stomach. "No, no, please, no."

The pain was immense, a tidal wave that was pulling me under. But it was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. I could feel my baby, my tiny, perfect child, slipping away from me. My connection to that flickering heartbeat was severed.

The men laughed. "Looks like the job's done."

They kicked me one last time for good measure, then shoved me out of the moving van. I hit the pavement hard, my body a mess of broken pieces. The van sped off into the night, leaving me alone in a dark alley, bleeding and broken.

I lay there, the world fading to black, my last conscious thought a single, silent scream for the child I would never hold.

I woke up in a strange bed. The room was clean and simple. Sunlight streamed through a window. I was wearing a plain white gown, and my body ached with a deep, throbbing pain. The cuts and bruises on my arms and face had been cleaned and bandaged. But the deepest wound, the one in my womb and my heart, was still raw.

My baby was gone. The emptiness inside me was a physical void, a hollowed-out space where life had been. A dry, wracking sob escaped my lips.

The door opened.

Liam walked in, his face a mask of irritation.

"There you are," he said, his voice sharp with annoyance. "I've had people looking for you all night. Where the hell did you go? Running off like that, making everyone worry. You're so damn impulsive."

He hadn't seen the blood. He didn't know. He thought I had just run off in a fit of pique.

Behind him, Chloe appeared, her face a perfect picture of gentle concern.

"Oh, Ava, you poor thing," she cooed, gliding to my bedside. "You mustn't let your emotions get the better of you like this. It's not good for you, or the baby."

She placed a hand on my stomach, right over the source of my agony, her touch a brand of pure poison.

Liam's expression softened as he looked at her. "See? Chloe was worried about you."

He looked back at me, his eyes hard. He thought I was faking, putting on a show for sympathy. He believed I was fine. He believed our baby was fine.

The sheer, staggering ignorance of it, the colossal cruelty, was the final blow. My heart, which I thought had already shattered, broke into a million more pieces. He stood there, scolding me for being dramatic, while the life he and I created had been violently stolen from me because of the woman he was protecting.

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