Chapter 4

Annabelle dragged herself back to the mansion. The house was empty and silent. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep, to escape the nightmare her life had become.

She had just reached the top of the stairs when Jack's voice echoed from the doorway.

"Don't even think about it."

He strode into the house, Everly clinging to his arm like a decorative vine.

"Everly is hungry," he announced. "She wants your black truffle pasta. Go make it."

It was another humiliation, another way to remind her of her place. She was no longer the lady of the house; she was the help.

"And since you've been so... weak," he added with a cruel twist of his lips, "I'll allow you to have some of the leftovers."

She said nothing. She walked to the kitchen, her body moving on autopilot. Her hands were steady as she cooked, but her heart was a block of ice. The rich aroma of the truffles filled the air, a scent that once meant celebration and love. Now it just smelled like ashes.

They ate in the grand dining room. Everly picked at her food, then set her fork down with a sigh.

"I'm bored," she announced, looking at Annabelle. "Dance for me."

Annabelle stared at her. "What?"

"I want you to dance. It would be so entertaining."

Annabelle felt a fresh wave of dizziness. She had lost a lot of blood. Her body was screaming in protest. She looked at Jack, a silent plea in her eyes.

He met her gaze, his expression unyielding. "Do it, Annabelle. Don't ruin her mood."

She stood up, her legs feeling like lead. She moved to the center of the room, her body feeling disconnected, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by a cruel master. She began to move, a slow, clumsy imitation of a dance.

Then, a sharp, searing pain shot through her abdomen. It was so intense it stole her breath. She gasped, clutching her stomach.

A warm wetness spread between her legs. She looked down. A dark red stain was blooming on her light-colored pants.

Everly recoiled in disgust. "Ugh, how vile! Jack, look at her! She's disgusting."

Jack's face was a mask of fury and revulsion. "What is wrong with you?" he roared. "You're making a mess! You've ruined Everly's appetite!"

He didn't ask if she was okay. He didn't show an ounce of concern.

"Clean it up," he commanded, his voice dripping with contempt. "Now."

He scooped Everly into his arms, who was feigning a delicate swoon, and carried her from the room as if Annabelle were nothing more than a piece of filth on his expensive rug.

She was left alone, on the floor, in a pool of her own blood. The pain was unbearable, but the pain in her heart was worse. She didn't cry. She had learned that tears were useless with him. Crying wouldn't bring back her baby. Crying wouldn't bring back the man she once loved.

Later that night, the pain had subsided to a dull, constant ache. She was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, when her door creaked open.

It was Everly. In her hand, she held a small, sharp knife from the kitchen.

"You think you can win?" Everly whispered, her voice a venomous hiss. "He's mine. He was always supposed to be mine."

She lunged. Annabelle reacted on pure instinct, grabbing Everly's wrist. The knife clattered to the floor. Everly screamed, a high-pitched, theatrical shriek.

"She's trying to kill me! Jack, help!"

Jack burst into the room, his face a storm of rage. He saw Everly on the floor, clutching her wrist, and Annabelle standing over her. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't need to. In his mind, Annabelle was always the villain.

He ripped his belt from his pants. The leather whistled through the air before it connected with her back. The pain was sharp, electric. He hit her again and again.

"You bitch!" he screamed, his voice raw with fury. "I'll kill you!"

He kicked her. Hard. In the stomach.

A pain unlike anything she had ever known exploded inside her. It was a tearing, gut-wrenching agony. She collapsed, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

Blood gushed from between her legs, a torrent of red that soaked through her clothes and pooled on the white carpet.

Her baby.

Her baby was gone.

"Jack," she gasped, reaching for him, her vision tunneling. "The baby... please... save my baby..."