Chapter 1

The air in the prestigious Sterling Art Gallery was cold and silent, a stark contrast to the chaos of my life. I adjusted the ill-fitting security guard uniform, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach where a tiny secret was growing. Three years. For three years, I painted during the day and worked multiple low-wage jobs at night, all to support my husband, David.

He was a musician, a brilliant one, but his body was failing him. A rare, degenerative illness, the doctors had said. The medical bills piled up like snowdrifts, burying us, burying my own dreams of being a full-time artist. This security job, with its dangerous night shifts, was the latest sacrifice. It paid just enough to cover the next round of his expensive, experimental treatments.

I did a slow walk through the main hall, the polished marble floor reflecting the priceless sculptures. My footsteps were the only sound. I loved David with an aching intensity, and I was pregnant with his child. This baby, I thought, would be a new reason for him to fight, a small light in our dark world. That belief was the only thing keeping me going.

A low murmur of voices drifted from a private viewing room at the end of the hall, a room that was supposed to be empty and locked. My heart jumped into my throat. Protocol was to call the police, not to investigate. But something held me back. A familiar laugh, deep and rich.

It was David's laugh.

But it wasn't the weak, breathless laugh I was used to hearing from his sickbed. It was strong, vibrant, and full of life. I crept closer, pressing my ear against the heavy oak door.

"You should have seen her face, Em," David's voice said, laced with amusement. "She actually believes I need that new 'serum' from Switzerland. Another fifty grand, just like that."

"She's so gullible," a woman's voice, smooth and mocking, replied. It was Emily, his childhood friend, the one who sometimes visited to "cheer him up." "Three years of this, and she still thinks you're a poor, dying musician."

My blood ran cold. I couldn't breathe. It felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

"It was a brilliant plan, you have to admit," David continued, his tone smug. "I couldn't stand another second of that cramped apartment, her cheap paint fumes, pretending to be some starving artist. Marrying her was the biggest mistake of my life."

"So when are you finally leaving her?" Emily asked, her voice getting closer to the door. "You're David Chen, the tech genius behind 'Innovate,' not some charity case. This whole charade is getting old."

"Soon," David said. "Very soon. Besides, there's a new development. She's pregnant."

A short, sharp laugh from Emily. "Oh, perfect. A baby."

"Exactly," David said, and the cruelty in his voice was a physical blow. "It's my ticket out. I'll let her have the baby, claim she's an unfit, hysterical mother, and then I'm gone. A clean break. No one will ever connect me back to this pathetic life."

The world tilted and went blurry. My hand fell from my stomach. The baby. He was going to use our baby against me. The child I thought would save us was just another tool in his elaborate, horrifying game. The love I felt for him curdled into something black and bitter. The past three years of my life, my sacrifices, my endless work, my unwavering belief in him-it was all a lie. A joke he shared with his real lover.

He wasn't sick. He was a wealthy tech mogul. And I was the fool who funded his secret, lavish life with Emily.

My heart, which had been full of love and hope just moments before, felt like a hollow, aching void. There was nothing left inside but rage and a terrible, chilling clarity. I was not going to have this baby. I was not going to give him a "ticket." I would not let my child be a weapon used to destroy me.

The decision was instant and absolute. I would get an abortion.

My grief was so immense it felt like a physical weight pressing down on me, but underneath it, a cold, hard resolve began to form. I took a shaky step back from the door, my mind racing. I needed to get out of here, to make a plan.

But my foot snagged on the edge of a rug. I stumbled, my hand flying out and knocking over a small metal sign stand. It clattered to the marble floor with a sound that seemed to echo like a gunshot in the silent gallery.

Inside the room, the voices stopped abruptly.

"What was that?" Emily whispered, her voice sharp with alarm.

"Someone's out there," David hissed.

The heavy oak door handle began to turn.