Chapter 3

Jack didn't just leave her in the hall. He had the maids drag her to the basement. It was a damp, dark wine cellar, the air thick with the smell of earth and stale alcohol. He took her phone, her purse, everything.

"You'll stay here until you learn some respect," he had said, his voice devoid of any emotion before he slammed and locked the heavy oak door.

She was there for two days. No food, only a bottle of water. The cold seeped into her bones. Her body ached, and a dull cramp started in her lower belly. It was fear, she told herself. Just fear. But it grew, a persistent throb that echoed the hollowness inside her.

On the third morning, the door opened. A maid stood there, her face impassive. "Mr. Hyde said you can leave now. But you are to go straight to the hospital."

Annabelle didn't ask why. She just nodded, her body too weak to argue. She pulled on the simple clothes the maid had brought and stumbled out of the mansion, blinking in the bright sunlight.

She needed to get to the clinic. The one Adan had found for her. This baby... she couldn't bring a child into this nightmare. It was a cruel, painful decision, but it was the only one she had left.

She got to the clinic, her legs shaking. The nurse at the front desk was kind but firm.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. For this procedure, we need the signature of a spouse or a direct family member. It's a legal requirement."

A spouse. A family member. Jack was her fiancé. Adan was hours away. She had no choice. Her hands trembled as she dialed Jack's number.

He answered on the second ring. "What do you want, Annabelle? I'm busy."

In the background, she could hear Everly's soft voice. "Jack, who is it? Is it her? Tell her not to call, it makes my anxiety worse."

"It's just a work call, sweetie," Jack's voice was honey-sweet for Everly, then turned to gravel for her. "What is it? Spit it out."

"Jack, I'm at the hospital," Annabelle began, her voice cracking. "I need you to come. I need your signature for a... a procedure."

"A procedure?" he scoffed. "What, did you get yourself into some trouble? Are you trying to get plastic surgery to fix that ugly scar of yours? Forget it. I'm not paying for your vanity."

He didn't even ask what kind of procedure. He didn't care.

"Jack, please..."

"I have to go. Everly is not feeling well."

He hung up.

The dial tone buzzed in her ear, a final, definitive sound. She stared at the phone, a wave of nausea washing over her. She remembered a time when she had a small fever, and he had flown a specialist in from another state. He had held her hand for hours, wiping her brow with a cool cloth, whispering that he couldn't bear to see her in pain.

Where was that man? Who was this cold, cruel stranger who wore his face?

The love she had felt for him, the deep, unwavering devotion, finally curdled into something cold and dead. There was nothing left to save.

She turned to leave the clinic, her plan in ruins. She would have to find another way. As she pushed open the glass door, she froze.

A black Bentley had pulled up to the curb. Jack was getting out, opening the passenger door for Everly. Everly looked pale and delicate, leaning on his arm as he helped her out of the car. They were at the same hospital.

Jack saw her. A cruel smirk twisted his lips. "Well, look who it is. Following us, Annabelle? I knew you couldn't stay away."

She said nothing, just tried to walk past them. He blocked her path.

"Not so fast," he said. "It's perfect timing, actually. Everly had another one of her episodes. The doctor said she's anemic. She needs a blood transfusion."

He looked her up and down, his eyes clinical and cold. "You're both the same blood type. I checked. You're going to donate."

"What? No," Annabelle said, her hand instinctively going to her stomach. "I can't. I'm... I'm not well."

"Don't be selfish," he snapped. "Everly tried to cut her wrists again this morning because of what you said. This is the least you can do."

"Jack, I'm pregnant," she whispered, the words a desperate, last-ditch plea. "I can't give blood."

He stared at her, then threw his head back and laughed. A harsh, ugly sound. "Pregnant? Don't be ridiculous. You're just saying that to get out of it. You're always so dramatic."

Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't make a sound. She just stood there, her heart breaking over and over again.

He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. "You're doing this."

He dragged her back into the clinic, ignoring her protests. He pushed her into a small room, forcing her into a chair. A nurse came in with a needle.

"Please," Annabelle begged, looking at Jack. "Please, don't do this."

He wouldn't look at her. He just stared out the window, his jaw tight. "Take 400cc," he told the nurse.

The needle slid into her vein. She felt a wave of dizziness as her blood, the very life force she needed for her baby, was drawn from her body. She felt weak, her vision blurring at the edges.

When it was over, he didn't even look at her. He just took the bag of blood and walked out of the room. She watched him walk down the hall, his arm around a triumphant-looking Everly, and leave her there, drained and empty.