Chapter 4

Later that day, I received a call from Mark' s assistant. Chloe had been taken to the hospital. She had a miscarriage. The assistant' s voice was cold and accusatory.

I hung up the phone, my mind numb. It had to be a lie. A cruel, manipulative trick.

The sound of the front door slamming open startled me. Mark stormed into the house, his face a mask of rage. He didn' t say a word. He just walked into the living room and swept a vase of flowers off the coffee table. It shattered against the wall, sending water and glass flying.

"Chloe lost the baby," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. He turned to face me, his eyes burning with a terrifying light. "Our baby."

I stared at him, speechless. Our baby? The lie was so audacious, so monstrous, it stole my breath.

"She was pregnant, Ava," he continued, his voice rising with each word. "And because of you, because you couldn't leave us alone, she lost it. Are you happy now?"

"That' s a lie," I whispered. "She was never pregnant."

"Don' t you dare call her a liar!" he roared, taking a step toward me. He looked like a stranger, his handsome features twisted into something ugly and menacing. "You' re the liar. You' re the one who' s sick and twisted."

He pointed a finger at me. "You are going to go to that hospital, and you are going to get on your knees and apologize to her."

I shook my head, a fresh wave of nausea rising in my throat. "No."

Daisy, who had been hiding behind the sofa, started to bark. It was a low, warning growl, a sound I had never heard from her before. She moved to stand between me and Mark, her body tense.

"Get that stupid dog out of the way," Mark snarled.

Daisy didn' t move. She just growled louder.

Mark' s rage shifted, his eyes fixing on the dog. "I said, move!"

He lunged, not at me, but at Daisy. He grabbed her by the collar and dragged her toward the back door.

"Mark, no! Stop it!" I screamed, running after him. "What are you doing?"

He threw open the door to the backyard. It was pouring rain, a cold, miserable downpour. He shoved Daisy outside, into the mud and the storm.

"She stays out here until you agree to apologize," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. He held the door, looking at me, his eyes cold and hard. "The longer you wait, the longer she suffers. Your choice."

I looked past him at Daisy, who was whining at the door, her fur already soaked, shivering in the cold. She was my therapy dog, the one constant source of comfort in my life. He knew how much she meant to me.

"Mark, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "Don' t do this. You gave her to me. You remember? For our first anniversary."

For a second, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. A brief hesitation. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard resolve.

"Apologize to Chloe," he repeated.

I looked at Daisy, trembling in the rain, and I knew I had no choice. She was innocent in all of this. I couldn' t let her suffer because of him.

"Okay," I whispered, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "I' ll do it."

He smiled, a cruel, triumphant smile. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin, and pulled me toward the front door.

"Let' s go," he said.

He dragged me out of the house and into his car, leaving Daisy whimpering in the rain.

The drive to the hospital was silent. When we arrived, he led me to Chloe' s room. She was in bed, looking pale and weak, an IV drip attached to her arm. She managed a small, pained smile when she saw Mark.

"You came," she whispered.

"Of course I did," he said, his voice soft and gentle. He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand. He looked at her with a tenderness that made my stomach churn.

Then he turned to me. "Well?"

I stood at the foot of the bed, feeling small and humiliated. The words wouldn't come.

"Ava," he warned.

I took a deep breath. "I' m sorry," I forced out, the words feeling like poison on my tongue. "I' m sorry for what happened."

Chloe' s eyes filled with tears. "I know you didn' t mean it," she said, her voice a pathetic whimper. "You were just upset. I forgive you."

She was playing the part of the magnanimous victim perfectly. It was a masterful performance of emotional manipulation. I felt sick.

I had to get out of there. I had to get back to Daisy.