Chapter 4

The security guard didn't take me to the service elevator. He shoved me into a small, windowless conference room off the main lobby. The door clicked shut behind me, the lock engaging with a heavy thud.

I was a prisoner.

I beat on the door, screaming Franklin's name, but the room was soundproofed. My voice was swallowed by the plush carpeting and wood-paneled walls. Exhausted, I slumped against the door, my body trembling with a rage so profound it left me breathless.

Then I heard voices from the hallway. Muffled at first, then clearer. The door must not have been as soundproof as I thought.

"Sir, are you sure about this? Mrs... I mean, Ms. Hopkins seemed very distressed. She said Leo is in the hospital."

It was Franklin's assistant, a young man named Mark who had always been kind to me.

And then, Franklin's voice. Calm, controlled, and utterly chilling.

"It's a ploy for attention, Mark. She can't stand that I'm moving on. She's always been dramatic."

A cold dread seeped into my bones. I pressed my ear against the cold wood of the door.

"But what if it's true?" Mark pressed, his voice hesitant. "What if the boy is really sick?"

There was a short, sharp laugh from Franklin. "Then it's a problem that will solve itself. Look, Kelsie will never leave me. She's too devoted to that son of hers to ever stand on her own two feet. Our marriage is her entire identity."

He paused, and I could practically hear the arrogant smile in his voice.

"She thinks I'm coming back to her once this is all over. Let her think that. It keeps her quiet."

Mark was silent.

"Don't look at me like that," Franklin snapped. "This is what's necessary. I'm building a legacy here. Janel is giving me a healthy heir. A son who can take over the business one day. That's what matters. A clean slate."

A healthy heir.

The phrase echoed in the small, dark room, a death knell for my son, for my marriage, for the woman I used to be.

Everything he had ever said to me, every "I love you," every promise, every shared dream, it was all a lie. I wasn't his wife. I was an inconvenience. Leo wasn't his son. He was a defect. A problem that would solve itself.

The world outside my body went silent. I couldn't hear the voices anymore. I couldn't feel the floor beneath my feet. All I could feel was a vast, cold emptiness opening up inside me. The love I had held for Franklin, a love I had nurtured for ten years, didn't just die. It had never existed. It was a phantom, and I was the fool who had believed in it.

I remembered our wedding day. He had stood before me, his eyes so full of what I thought was adoration, and he had promised to love and cherish me, in sickness and in health. He had held Leo for the first time, his face a mask of paternal pride, and sworn he would always protect him.

Lies. All of it.

The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall. He was going to his press conference. He was going to stand in front of the world and announce his bright new future, a future built on the ashes of his first family.

A click. The lock on the door disengaged.

I didn't move.

After a moment, the door creaked open. Mark stood there, his face pale, his eyes filled with pity.

"He's gone," he said quietly. "You can go."

I pushed myself off the floor, my legs like lead. I walked past him without a word. The pity in his eyes was an insult. I didn't want his pity. I didn't want anything.

The part of me that could feel was dead.

All that was left was a mother. And her son was running out of time.