Chapter 3

Emily' s handprint throbbed on my cheek, but I felt nothing. It was David' s reaction that sealed my fate. He didn' t pull Emily away. He didn' t scold her. Instead, he tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"Good," he murmured, his voice low and meant only for her. "She deserved that."

His words were not a whisper, but they were quiet enough that he thought I wouldn't hear. He was wrong. I heard everything. He was encouraging her, validating her violence against me.

Then he turned his full attention to me, his eyes cold as ice.

"Don't you ever speak to her like that again," he warned, his voice a low growl. "You will be civil. You will be respectful. And next Tuesday, you will go to that hospital and you will do what needs to be done. Do you understand me?"

I didn't answer. I just stared at him, memorizing the face of the man who had destroyed my life.

He took my silence as submission. He led a sniffling, victorious Emily out of the room, leaving me alone with the shattered lamp and the shattered remains of my life.

I went into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. The red mark on my cheek was already starting to bruise. I remembered a time when I' d gotten a small paper cut, and David had fussed over me for an hour, cleaning it, bandaging it, kissing it better. He had promised then that he would never let anything or anyone hurt me.

That promise, like all the others, was ash.

The next day, I woke up to a notification on my phone. David had posted on social media. It was a photo of him and Emily in the garden, smiling brightly. He was holding her hand. The caption read: "Taking care of the most important woman in my life. #FamilyFirst #fighter"

The ring on his finger, my wedding ring, was gone. In its place was a simple gold band that matched one Emily was now wearing. It was a subtle, public declaration. A final erasure of me.

I felt a strange sense of peace. There was no more pain, no more hope to be crushed. There was only a cold, clear path forward.

I spent the day finalizing my plans. I called the investigator, Mr. Davies, and confirmed the details. A car would be waiting for me at a designated spot. A flight was booked under my new name. A new life was waiting.

David announced he was hosting a small get-together that weekend. "To lift Emily's spirits before the transplant," he said. He didn't ask me to help; he commanded it.

The night of the party, our house was filled with fake laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses. David and Emily were the stars of the show. They wore matching outfits of navy blue. They moved through the crowd as a unit, his arm possessively around her waist.

People stared at me. I could hear their whispers.

"That's his wife, Olivia. She looks terrible."

"I heard she's the one donating the marrow. So brave."

"Brave? Or just trapped? Look at him with his sister. It's... strange."

I couldn't stand it. I escaped to the quiet of the library. It was dark, the only light coming from the moon through the large bay window. I wasn't alone for long.

"Hiding?"

It was Emily. She sauntered into the room, a glass of champagne in her hand.

"What do you want, Emily?" I asked, my voice weary.

"I want you to know that you've lost," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "He was always mine. You were just a temporary distraction. An incubator."

My blood ran cold. "You made me lose my babies on purpose."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. I had known it, but hearing her admit it, even indirectly, was still a shock.

She smiled, a cruel, twisted thing. "They would have gotten in the way. David's love is mine. His attention is mine. His life is mine. Soon, his name will be mine, too. Once you're gone."

She took a step closer. "And you will be gone. One way or another."

Then, she did something I never could have predicted. She took a shard of glass from the broken lamp, which she must have hidden in her pocket, and dragged it across her own arm. It was a deep, ugly cut.

Blood welled up instantly. She let out a piercing scream.

"DAVID! HELP ME! SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"

David burst into the room in seconds, his face a thundercloud. He saw the blood, he saw Emily crying on the floor, and he looked at me, standing there, frozen in shock.

"What did you do?" he roared.

"I didn't do anything," I said, my voice shaking. "She did it to herself!"

"David, she had glass!" Emily shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She said if she couldn't have you, no one could!"

"Call the police," I said, my voice gaining strength. "Check the security cameras. You'll see the truth."

David looked from me to the camera in the corner of the room, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But it was quickly extinguished by Emily's sobs.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not dragging the police into this. I'll handle it myself."

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like claws. He dragged me out of the library, past the stunned, silent guests, and down the stairs to the basement.

He threw me into the cold, damp room and locked the door.

"You'll stay in here until you learn your lesson," he yelled through the door. "Until you're ready to apologize and do what you're told."

I heard his footsteps fade away, followed by the murmurs of the guests. I was alone in the dark.

I sank to the concrete floor, the cold seeping into my bones. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just sat there, in the darkness, and waited. He had locked me in, thinking he was punishing me.

He had no idea he was just giving me time to prepare for my freedom. He thought this was the end of my fight.

It was the beginning of his end.