Chapter 4

The pain was a physical thing, a white-hot agony that started in my womb and spread through my entire body. I was empty. Hollowed out. He had not only taken my love, my trust, my past-he had taken my future.

I heard Gregory talking to Jevon outside the door. "We have to keep this quiet. If this gets out, the scandal... No one can know she was pregnant. No one can know about the hysterectomy. It was a complication from her fall, that' s all."

His protection wasn' t for me. It was for himself. For his reputation. He was managing a crisis, not mourning our loss.

I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp sting a welcome distraction from the gaping wound in my soul. I trembled uncontrollably, a storm of grief and rage building inside me until I thought I would break.

When he finally came into the room, his face was a carefully constructed mask of sorrow. "Bella... I' m so sorry."

He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. I turned my face to the wall, refusing to look at him, refusing to let him see the devastation he had wrought.

He sat by my bed for hours, trying to get me to speak. He promised to punish Holly, to send her and the boy away. Empty words. I didn' t believe a single one. My heart was a dead thing in my chest.

In the days that followed, he tried to win me back with grand gestures. He, Gregory Thompson, a man who never waited for anything, stood in line for two hours to buy me a cronut from a trendy bakery because he heard me mention it once. He arranged for a private fireworks display over the Hudson River, just for me. He bought me a diamond necklace so heavy it felt like a collar.

He would look at me with those soulful brown eyes, brimming with what he probably thought was love. But I felt nothing. The part of me that had loved him was gone, scooped out and discarded on a cold hospital floor.

The day I was discharged, he took me to a high-profile art auction at Christie' s.

"A little distraction," he said, smiling. "To take your mind off things."

He proceeded to buy every single lot that came up for auction. Art, jewelry, rare manuscripts. He raised his paddle again and again, a king bestowing treasures upon his broken queen. The room buzzed with whispers.

"Look at how much he adores her."

"He would do anything for her."

The whispers were like insects crawling on my skin. I couldn' t stand it. I excused myself, mumbling something about needing some air, and went to the ladies' room. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to breathe.

That' s when I heard the sounds from one of the locked stalls. A low giggle, followed by a man' s groan. It was his groan. I knew it as well as I knew my own name.

I peered through the small crack between the stall door and the frame. It was them. Gregory and Holly. He had her pressed against the wall, her dress hiked up around her waist.

"You' re so reckless," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Someone could walk in."

"Let them," she purred. "I want them to. I want everyone to know you' re mine."

I stumbled back as if struck. A wave of nausea so powerful it buckled my knees. I ran from the restroom, my hand over my mouth. I managed to text him-Feeling unwell, going home-before I fled the building.

I was halfway down the block when the fire alarms blared. Smoke began to pour from the upper windows of the auction house. People were screaming, running into the street. Panic erupted.

I looked back, searching the crowd for Gregory. I called his name, my voice lost in the chaos. Then I saw him. He emerged from a side entrance, his arm wrapped protectively around Holly. He was leading her away from the danger, his face a mask of grim determination. He didn' t even look for me.

My heart didn' t just break. It turned to dust. The crowd surged, a wave of terrified bodies, and I was knocked from my feet. I fell to the pavement, the world spinning into a vortex of sirens and screams.

I will protect you. His promise echoed in my mind as the blackness closed in.

I woke up in a hospital bed. Again. This time, Gregory was by my side, dabbing my forehead with a cool cloth.

"Bella, thank God," he said, his voice choked with relief. "When the fire broke out, I couldn' t find you. I was so scared."

The lie was so effortless, so smooth, I almost had to admire it.

"You left me," I said, my voice flat and dead. "I saw you. You saved her."

His face paled. "No, Bella, you' re confused. The smoke... you must have imagined it." He knelt by my bed, his eyes pleading. "I swear to you, I was looking for you. Only for you."

I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Holly and the boy. I want them gone. Out of the country. I never want to see them again." It was a test. A final, desperate test.

His smile froze. The mask cracked. "Bella, I can' t do that. It wouldn' t be right. Holly has nothing. Jaden is just a child. I have to... I have a responsibility to them. It' s my way of atoning for my sins."

Atoning. He was using his affair, his secret family, as a twisted form of penance. And I was expected to accept it.

I closed my eyes, a single, hot tear escaping and tracing a path down my temple. It was over. Whatever was left between us, whatever microscopic shard of hope I had clung to, was gone.

The next night, I was woken by a sharp pain in my arm. A nurse was inserting a needle. I was in a different room, a clinical, cold space that smelled of blood.

"What' s happening?" I asked, struggling against the hands holding me down.

Gregory was there, his face grim. "Jaden was in an accident. He lost a lot of blood. He needs a transfusion. You' re the same blood type."