Chapter 3

The medicine didn't work. The fever got worse. By morning, I was delirious, drifting in and out of a sweaty, nightmarish sleep.

It was Kayla who found me. She'd been worried when I didn't answer her texts and used the spare key I' d given her. She took one look at my flushed face and glassy eyes and drove me to the emergency room.

"Where the hell is Aiden?" she demanded, pacing the small hospital room as I lay hooked up to an IV.

"He had to work," I mumbled, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth.

"Work? You could have died, Lottie!"

I looked at her, my loyal, fierce friend, and the dam broke. I told her everything. The trust. The secret child. The years of abuse I'd mistaken for love. The phone call last night.

She listened, her face turning from anger to horror to a deep, heartbreaking sympathy. When I finished, she just held my hand, her grip tight and steady.

"It's over, Kayla," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I'm leaving. For good."

"Good," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You deserve so much better."

She went out to get me some food, leaving me alone with the quiet hum of the hospital machines. I felt weak, but my mind was a sharp, clear shard of ice.

I swung my legs off the bed and, holding onto the IV pole, made my way to the restroom down the hall. As I pushed the door open, I heard familiar voices from the private waiting area next to it. Aiden's voice. And Haven's.

I froze, pressing myself into the shadows of the doorway.

"He got into a fight at daycare," Haven was saying, her voice tight with tears. "Another boy pushed him and called him... called him a bastard."

I heard Aiden let out a low growl of fury. "I'll buy the damn daycare. I'll fire everyone. I'll put him in a private school with guards."

"But what's the point, Aiden?" Haven's voice was a pathetic whimper. "He'll always be your secret. He'll never have your name. People will always talk."

"Haven..." Aiden's voice was softer now, full of a pained tenderness that made my stomach turn.

"I can't stand seeing him hurt," she sobbed. "I can't."

I heard a rustle of clothing, a soft sigh. I peeked around the corner. He had pulled her into his arms. She was crying into his chest, and he was stroking her hair. It was a scene of intimate comfort, a twisted parody of all the times he had held me.

I noticed something else. As his hand moved down her back, it paused. His fingers began to drum a restless, urgent rhythm against her spine. It was a tell. His tell. The sign that his control was slipping, that the sick part of him was about to take over.

He pulled her closer, his voice a low, rough whisper. "I'll fix it. I promise." His hand tightened, his grip becoming less gentle, more demanding.

Haven seemed to sense the shift. She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide. "Aiden, no. Not here."

But his eyes were glazed over. He was already lost. He leaned in, his mouth about to crush hers.

Then, Haven spoke, her voice suddenly clear and steady. "I'm pregnant."

Aiden froze, his body going completely still. The frantic energy vanished as if a switch had been flipped.

"What?" he breathed.

"About six weeks," she said. She looked down, a picture of fragile vulnerability. "It's okay. I'll get rid of it. I know you have Charlotte. I won't make things difficult for you."

It was a masterful performance. The helpless victim, sacrificing herself for his sake.

Aiden stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, he shook his head, a slow, deliberate movement. "No. We're keeping it."

He reached out and cupped her face, his voice thick with a resolve that chilled me to the bone. "You and Leo... you'll have everything. You'll have my name. I promise."

The air crackled with a new tension. I saw the familiar signs in him again-the taut muscles, the shallow breathing. He was fighting it, fighting the urge that was roaring inside him. He was trying to be gentle with this woman who was carrying his child.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched. Then, with a guttural cry, he slammed his fist into the wall beside her head. The drywall cracked. Plaster dust rained down.

Haven screamed, shrinking away from him.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, leaning his forehead against the broken wall. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want to hurt you. Or the baby."

I stood in the doorway, invisible, watching the scene unfold. I watched him punish himself, not for me, but for her. I watched him offer her the same broken promises, the same violent penance, the same twisted love he had once offered me.

It wasn't special. It wasn't about me. It was never about me. It was just his pattern. A sick, repeating cycle of possession and self-loathing.

And I had been just one more victim caught in its destructive path.

The pain in my chest was so sharp it felt like my heart was physically breaking. I couldn't breathe. I stumbled back from the door, my vision swimming. I had to get away before they saw me, before I shattered into a million pieces on the cold, sterile floor.

I made it back to my room just as Kayla returned. I spent the next two days in the hospital, recovering. When Aiden called, I told him I was staying with Kayla. I let him believe the lie.

On the third day, I checked myself out. I held the signed divorce papers in my hand like a shield. It was time to go home one last time.

As I walked up to the front door of the mansion I'd once called home, I heard the sound of a child's laughter echoing from inside. My hand froze on the doorknob.

I pushed the door open. In the grand living room, Leo was playing on the floor. With him was Aiden' s mother, my mother-in-law.

And in Leo' s hands, he was twisting and turning the delicate porcelain ballerina from my mother' s music box. It was the last thing I had left of her.