Chapter 3

The next day, after my appointment at the clinic, a procedure that left me feeling hollowed out and raw, Liam insisted I attend a yacht party hosted by his friends.

"You need to get out, my love," he'd said, his voice full of that infuriating, manufactured concern. "It will cheer you up."

I knew what it was. It was another stage for another prank. Chloe would be there. I almost refused, but then a cold thought surfaced. Let them play their game. It would be the last one.

The yacht was obscene, a floating palace of white leather and polished chrome. Liam's friends, a pack of grinning hyenas in designer clothes, greeted me with air kisses that felt like snakebites. Chloe stood near the bar, a smug, triumphant look on her face, watching me.

"Ava, you look a little pale," one of Liam's friends, a woman named Tiffany, said with fake sympathy. "Have a drink. It'll put some color back in your cheeks."

She handed me a glass of what looked like fruit punch.

"I'm not drinking, thank you," I said, my voice quiet but firm.

"Oh, come on," another friend, Mark, chimed in, slinging an arm over Liam' s shoulder. "Don't be a spoilsport. It's a party!"

Liam smiled at me. "Just one, Ava. For me."

He was testing me. I knew it. I took the glass, my hand steady. I brought it to my lips but didn't drink, just held it. That seemed to satisfy them. They moved on, whispering and glancing back at me.

Chloe sauntered over, her smile sharp. "Having fun, Ava? You know, Liam's been planning this little getaway for weeks. He wanted everything to be perfect."

Her eyes flickered down to the glass in my hand and then back to my face. A small, cruel smile played on her lips.

A little later, a waiter brought around a tray of appetizers. Oysters. I hated oysters. Liam knew this.

"You have to try one," Liam urged, picking one up for me. "They're a specialty."

His friends gathered around, watching. It was a dare. A test of my compliance. I felt a wave of nausea, the aftermath of the morning's procedure mixing with the sea-swell and the stress. But I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me buckle.

I took the oyster from him and swallowed it down, the slimy texture making my stomach revolt. I forced a smile. "Delicious."

Their disappointed faces were my small, fleeting victory.

But the nausea didn't pass. It grew, churning in my stomach. A sharp cramp seized my abdomen, making me gasp. I felt a sudden, dizzying wave of sickness.

"I... I need to use the restroom," I mumbled, pushing past them.

I stumbled towards the lower deck, my vision starting to blur at the edges. The cramping intensified, sharp and vicious. I made it to the small, sterile bathroom and collapsed against the door, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

As I leaned against the wall, trying to breathe through the pain, I heard their voices from the hallway just outside the thin door. It was Chloe and Tiffany.

"Did you see her face?" Tiffany giggled. "She looked like she was going to puke."

"Good," Chloe said, her voice cold. "The caterer confirmed he put the stuff in the oysters, just like I told him to. It should start working soon. A strong enough emetic to make anyone sick, but for someone in a... delicate condition? It'll guarantee a mess."

My blood turned to ice. A delicate condition. They knew. But how?

"Liam is going to be so pleased," Tiffany continued. "This is way better than just spilling wine on her art. You getting him to make her lose the baby is your masterpiece, Chloe."

"He didn't make her do anything," Chloe corrected her sharply. "He just... allowed it to happen. He didn't want a child with her tying him down, obviously. He was just waiting for the right moment for the problem to go away. I just provided the opportunity."

A wave of blackness washed over me. I slid down the wall, the cramps in my abdomen turning into a searing, tearing pain. I looked down. Blood was soaking through my white linen pants. A deep, dark red.

Even though I had made my own choice this morning, the violation of this, the malicious, deliberate act of them poisoning me to cause a miscarriage, was a new level of hell. They were trying to take from me what wasn't even there anymore, a phantom limb of a future they wanted to amputate themselves.

The lock on the door clicked open. Liam stood there, his face a mask of shock. "Ava! What's wrong?"

Chloe and Tiffany were behind him, their faces painted with fake horror.

"Help me," I croaked, the words barely a whisper. The pain was all-consuming.

Chloe stepped forward. "Liam, darling, she's probably just seasick. Let's get her some water."

She tried to block his path to me. For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine anger in Liam's eyes, directed not at me, but at her.

"Get out of my way, Chloe," he snapped, his voice a low growl. He pushed past her and knelt beside me, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch.

As he gathered me into his arms, the world started to fade. The last thing I heard was the hushed, urgent conversation between Chloe and Liam's friend Mark.

"Did he know?" Mark asked. "Did he know she was pregnant?"

"Of course he knew," Chloe hissed back, her voice laced with venom. "But he was supposed to be happy about this. He was supposed to be relieved."

"Well, he doesn't look relieved," Mark said.

"Is he actually falling for her?" Chloe's voice was a mix of disbelief and fury. "After everything? After ninety-nine pranks?"

Liam's voice cut through the haze, tight with a panic that sounded terrifyingly real. "She's bleeding. Someone call a helicopter. Now!"

Then Chloe' s voice, cold and final, drilled into my fading consciousness.

"Don't be stupid, Liam. It's just part of the game. Don't you dare forget who you're doing all this for. You love me. Remember?"

There was a beat of silence. Then Liam' s reply, strained, but clear.

"I know, Chloe. I... I know."

And then, everything went black. I had cancelled my own appointment at the clinic, a small, pathetic hope blooming in my chest after I found his sketchbook. I had thought, maybe, just maybe, there was something real there. The bleeding, the pain, it was all their doing. They had taken my baby from me. They had killed my child. My hope died with it. In that moment of blackness, any lingering doubt, any shred of compassion I might have had for the man holding me, vanished completely.