Chapter 2

The doctor, a kind-faced woman in her fifties, looked at Esther with a mixture of shock and concern. "Ms. Briggs... Esther. Are you certain? This is an extreme step."

Esther didn't flinch. The man who had promised to treat her like a queen when she was pregnant, the man who had held her hand during ultrasounds and massaged her aching back, was now the reason she was here. The contrast was a blade twisting in her gut.

Now, all that tenderness was directed at another woman. That devotion was a weapon used against her.

Her face was a mask of grief, but her heart was hardening into something cold and sharp.

"I'm sure," she told the doctor, her voice firm. "I don't want the child."

The procedure was a cold, clinical violation. She felt the scrape and pull, a hollowing out inside her. It was a physical manifestation of what Julian had done to her soul.

She felt a part of her being torn away, a part that had been filled with hope and love. Now, it was just an empty, aching void.

When it was over, a nurse asked gently, "Would you like to see... it?"

Esther' s composure finally broke. A raw, guttural sob escaped her lips. "No! Get it away from me!"

She curled into a ball on the bed, tears and blood mingling on the white sheets. She whispered his name, over and over, like a curse.

"Julian. Julian. It's over, Julian."

She fell into a fitful, exhausted sleep. When she woke, it was dark outside. The room was silent. She checked her phone. No missed calls. No messages from him.

Of course not. He was in Paris with Katia.

She opened Instagram. Katia had posted a new photo. A close-up of her and Julian, kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower, the city lights twinkling behind them. The caption read: "The city of love, with my love. He makes me feel like the only woman in the world. ❤️"

Esther' s face was blank. She felt nothing. The pain was so immense it had become numbness.

She called the nurse. Her voice was devoid of emotion. "The... specimen. I need it. Preserved, as I requested."

The nurse returned with a small, sealed container. Esther took it with a steady hand.

She would make him pay. She would make him see the monster he had become.

She had one week before her flight to London. One week to dismantle her old life and secure her parents' safety.

Back at the penthouse, the silence was deafening. She walked to the large, stainless-steel refrigerator, the one Julian had custom-ordered from Germany.

She opened the door and placed the small container inside, tucked behind a carton of organic milk. A tiny, perfect coffin in a cold, dark place.

Just as she closed the door, she heard a key in the lock.

Julian was back.

He strode into the kitchen, looking tired but pleased with himself. He was still wearing the expensive suit from the photo, but it was slightly rumpled. The faint scent of Katia's perfume, a cloying, sweet scent, clung to him.

"Esther," he said, his voice casual.

She didn't look at him.

He noticed the box in the refrigerator as he reached for a bottle of water. "What's that?"

"Leftovers," she said quickly, shutting the door. Her voice was flat, empty.

He frowned, sensing the shift in her. He was used to her tears, her anger, her pleas. This cold emptiness was new. It unsettled him.

He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. A diamond necklace. A bribe. A sorry-not-sorry gift.

"I brought you something," he said, his tone conciliatory. "Let's just forget about what happened. You pushed me too far, Esther. But we can move past it."

Forget? He wanted her to forget being arrested? Forget the public humiliation?

She said nothing, just stared at the wall behind him.

He sighed, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "Why are you being like this? Are you still mad? Think of the baby."

He reached out, his hand moving toward her still-flat stomach.