Chapter 4

"James," I cried, my voice breaking. "Please, don't let them do this. Protect our baby."

I reached for him, my hope fragile and desperate.

"Tell them," I begged. "Tell them you believe me. This is your child."

His eyes were as cold as ice. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin right over the burn from the tea. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

"Believe you?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Why should I?"

He loosened his tie with his free hand, his jaw tight. "Janay is in the hospital. She was poisoned. By something in the breakfast I brought her. The breakfast I cooked in this kitchen."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Tell me, Erica. How can I be sure the child in your belly is even mine?"

I recoiled as if he had slapped me. "What? No! I didn't... I didn't touch that food." My voice was a frantic whisper.

"You cooked it," I said, trying to make him see reason. "I was never near it. And how would I even know what she' s allergic to?"

His grip on my wrist loosened slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but it was quickly extinguished.

Guss Frost stepped forward, his patience gone. "Enough of this. We're doing the test. It's family tradition. Every child born into the main Frost line is tested."

Tears streamed down my face. I looked at James, my last hope. "Please, James," I sobbed. "Please, for the baby's sake."

He looked at me, a long, unreadable stare. Then he turned away.

"Do the test," he said, his voice flat. He motioned to the maids. "Take her. Follow the procedure."

My hope died. It flickered out, leaving only the cold ash of despair. All I had left were tears.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear. I lay on the table, watching the doctor prepare a long, terrifying needle.

The needle pierced my skin, a sharp, invasive pain that felt like a hot poker driving into my belly. I tensed, my fingernails digging into my palms, drawing blood. I bit my lip so hard I tasted metal, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

He will regret this, I thought, the words a silent, hateful prayer. He will regret this.

I woke up from a nightmare, my body aching. The hospital room was empty and silent. I fumbled for the call button and pressed it.

A nurse came in, her face impassive.

"My baby," I asked, my voice hoarse. "Is my baby okay?"

"The fetus's vitals are stable," she said coolly, as if reading from a chart.

She turned to leave, but I heard her and another nurse laughing in the hallway.

"I bet she'd ask about the kid first thing," one of them said.

"Of course. But Mr. Cole hasn't even been to see her. He's been up in the VIP ward with Miss Rodgers all day. It's pretty obvious where the real love is."

The words hit me harder than the needle. My mouth filled with a bitter taste.

He loved Janay that much? Enough to completely disregard his own child?