Chapter 4

I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the soft beeping of a machine. My eyes fluttered open. I was in a hospital bed, an IV drip in my arm.

A nurse with a kind face smiled at me. "Welcome back. You gave us quite a scare. You collapsed in the hallway of your building."

My mind was foggy. I tried to sit up, my stomach aching. "My ulcer..."

"The doctor will be in to talk to you," she said, her smile becoming a little more personal. "But there's something else. Congratulations, Ms. Farmer. You're pregnant."

The word hit me like a physical blow. Pregnant.

It couldn't be. We had been so careful.

"No," I whispered. "That's not possible."

"The report is right here," she said gently, handing me a clipboard.

I stared at the black and white letters. Positive. Eight weeks. It was real.

A wave of memories washed over me. Arthur and I, years ago, sitting on a park bench, dreaming of our future. He'd talked about teaching our son to play baseball, our daughter to paint. "We'll have a house full of love and art," he'd said, his eyes shining.

Now, a baby was coming into this nightmare. A child conceived in love was going to be born into a world of hate and abuse. How could this be happening?

I had to tell him. Despite everything, he was the father. He had a right to know.

I reached for my phone, my hands trembling. As I unlocked it, the screen lit up with Instagram. Diana had just posted a new photo. It was of Arthur, asleep in our bed. He looked peaceful, angelic. Her hand was in the frame, gently stroking his hair. The locket-my mother's locket-was visible against her skin.

The caption read: "Watching over my weary hero. He gives so much of himself to protect me. My heart is so full. ❤️ #truelove #soulmate #gavin'slight"

Arthur had commented below it just minutes ago. "You are my light, Diana. Always."

Bile rose in my throat. I swallowed it down and dialed his number. It rang and rang. Finally, he picked up.

"What?" His voice was cold, impatient.

"Arthur, I..." I started, but was cut off.

"Arthur, darling, I'm scared," I heard Diana's voice whine in the background. "I had another nightmare about Gavin."

"I'm here, my love, I'm here," Arthur's voice instantly softened, dripping with a tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "Just breathe. I've got you."

I listened, my heart shattering into a million pieces, as he cooed and soothed her. He put the phone down, but didn't hang up. I could hear every sweet nothing he whispered to her, every promise that he would never leave her side. It went on for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, he picked the phone back up. "Are you still there?" he snapped, his irritation returning.

"Arthur, I'm in the hospital."

"Did you find a new way to get attention? I'm busy, Ella. Don't bother me with your drama unless the building is on fire."

He hung up.

A second later, my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Diana.

Heard you're in the hospital. Trying to win back his sympathy? Pathetic. He doesn't care about you. He's mine now. Stay away from him, or you'll regret it.

I dropped the phone. The tears I had been holding back finally came, silent and hot. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, a primal, protective gesture.

This baby. This tiny, innocent life. It was mine. Not his. Not theirs.

He didn't want us. He had made that perfectly clear.

Fine. We didn't want him either.

I looked at the calendar on my phone. Twenty days left. I would be strong for twenty more days. For my baby.

Arthur never came to the hospital. He never even called. The only visitor I had was my grandmother, Hertha Mills. She was my last family member in New York, a beacon of love in my dark world.

She bustled in with a container of her homemade chicken soup, her face etched with worry. "Oh, my sweet girl. Look at you. So pale."

"I'm okay, Grandma," I lied, forcing a smile. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about the baby. Not yet. It would only worry her more.

"That man," she huffed, her eyes flashing with anger. "He is not worthy of you, Ella. Leaving you to collapse alone."

"I know," I whispered. "I'm leaving him. I'm going to Dad's at the end of the month."

Her face softened with relief. "Good. That's my brave girl."

She stayed with me, holding my hand, her presence a comforting balm on my fractured soul.

The day I was discharged, she was supposed to pick me up at noon. But noon came and went. Then one o'clock. I called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightened in my gut. This wasn't like her. She was always punctual.

A nurse came in, her face grim. "Ms. Farmer? There's been an accident. Your grandmother... she was brought into the ER about an hour ago. A hit-and-run."

My world tilted on its axis. I ran, my hospital gown flapping around my legs, all the way to the emergency room. I found her on a gurney in the hallway, her head bandaged, her arm in a makeshift sling. She was conscious, but in pain.

"Grandma!" I cried, rushing to her side.

The ER was chaos, but I noticed something strange. It was also eerily quiet. There were no doctors.

"Where are the doctors?" I asked a frantic-looking nurse. "She needs help!"

The nurse looked at me with pity. "They're all upstairs. On the VIP floor."

"What? Why?"

Her next words stopped my heart. "Mr. Mckay called them all up there. The woman he's with, a Ms. Hess, fainted. He insisted she have the full attention of our entire senior medical staff."

Rage, pure and white-hot, surged through me. I sprinted to the elevators, pressing the button for the VIP floor.

The doors opened to a scene of quiet, focused panic. A team of at least five top-tier doctors surrounded a bed where Diana lay, a cool compress on her forehead. Arthur was by her side, holding her hand, his face a mask of concern.

"What is the meaning of this?" I screamed, my voice echoing in the silent suite.

Arthur looked up, his expression turning to one of annoyance. "Ella. What are you doing here?"

"My grandmother is downstairs, bleeding, and you have every doctor in this hospital up here for her?" I pointed at Diana, who looked perfectly fine. "Because she fainted?"

I turned to the doctors. "Please. My grandmother was in a car accident. She needs a doctor."

They looked at Arthur, their faces full of conflict.

He didn't even hesitate. He stood up, blocking their path. "No one is leaving," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Diana's condition is... delicate. She needs observation."

He was letting my grandmother die for a lie.