Chapter 4

"He called them mistakes," Gisele sneered, her eyes glittering with a cruel satisfaction. "Unwanted little accidents."

The words struck me with the force of a physical blow. I stood frozen, the air knocked from my lungs. Every memory, every whispered promise, every gentle touch was now tainted, twisted into something monstrous.

Gisele' s eyes locked onto the embroidered pouch in my hand. "What is that? Let me see."

She lunged for it.

"No!" The word was torn from my throat. A primal, protective instinct surged through me. I was a mother lion defending her cubs, even the ghosts of them.

We struggled, our hands locked around the small pouch. It was a pathetic, desperate fight. The fabric tore, and the pouch fell from our grasp, scattering its contents across the floor.

Eight tiny, silver locks.

They skittered across the polished wood, each one a tiny, gleaming tombstone for a life that never was.

Gisele looked down at them, a twisted smile playing on her lips. Then she raised her foot, her sharp heel grinding one of the small locks into the floor.

"Oops," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Such a shame. But they never should have existed in the first place, should they?"

"Stop it!" I screamed, lunging for the floor, trying to shield the small pieces of silver with my body.

I scrambled to gather them, to rescue them from her desecration. As I reached for the last one, her heel came down hard on the back of my hand, pinning it to the floor. Pain, white-hot and blinding, shot up my arm.

She leaned down, her face close to mine, her breath smelling of strawberries and triumph. "You're pathetic, Kloe."

Before I could react, she grabbed a heavy glass paperweight from my desk and slammed it against the side of my head.

The world exploded in a shower of stars. Pain roared in my ears. But through the haze, a surge of pure, unadulterated rage gave me strength. I lashed out blindly, my hand connecting with her face.

It wasn't a hard blow, but Gisele was an actress. She gasped, stumbling backward, and threw herself to the floor with a theatrical cry of pain.

Just as she landed, the door flew open.

Aidan rushed in, his face a thundercloud of fury. He saw Gisele on the floor, crying, and me, disheveled and wild-eyed, with my hand still raised.

He didn't hesitate. He scooped Gisele into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass.

"What did you do?" he roared at me.

My head was spinning. I clutched the tiny locks in my bruised hand, the sharp edges digging into my palm.

"She hit me, Aidan!" Gisele sobbed, pointing a trembling finger at me. "I just came to see if she was okay, and she attacked me! She's crazy! I think she's having some kind of breakdown!"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell him the truth, but the words wouldn't come. What was the point? He had already judged me.

His eyes fell to the silver locks in my hand. A flicker of something-recognition, guilt-passed through his expression. He knew what they were. He knew what they meant.

But he said nothing. He simply smoothed Gisele's hair, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "It's okay, I'm here. I'll take care of you."

He turned his cold gaze back to me. "I'm taking Gisele to the doctor to get her checked out."

"You should have Kloe committed," Gisele whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "She's unstable. As her legal guardian, you have the right. For her own good."

Aidan considered it. I could see the cold calculation in his eyes. He was actually considering locking me away in a mental hospital.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "I'm not crazy."

I looked at him, my last shred of hope clinging to a desperate plea. "Aidan, I'm pregnant. It's your child. I was going to leave. I was going to go to my parents. Please, just let me go."

He didn't react. It was as if I hadn't spoken. He and Gisele left, leaving me in the ruins of my room, surrounded by the ghosts of my children.

An hour later, they came for me.

Two large men in white uniforms. They didn't listen to my protests, my desperate pleas.

"I'm not crazy!" I screamed as they dragged me out of the house, my home. "I'm not crazy!"

One of them looked at me with bored, unsympathetic eyes. "That's what they all say, miss."

They forced me into a van. The world outside the window blurred into a meaningless smear as my last hope died. I was being taken away, and the man I loved, the man I had given everything to, was the one who had signed the papers.

The van stopped. I was pulled out, my arms held in a vice-like grip. I saw him then, standing under the stark, unforgiving lights of the hospital entrance.

Aidan.

"Aidan, please!" I cried, struggling against my captors. "Help me! How could you do this? What will you tell my parents?"

For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. A glimmer of the man I used to know. I thought he was here to save me.

I was a fool.

He walked toward me, his face grim. He stopped just inches away, close enough for me to see the cold, hard light in his eyes.

"This is for your own good, Kloe," he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "You hurt Gisele. You need to be here, to reflect on what you've done."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't worry. Once you've learned your lesson, once you admit you were wrong, I'll come and get you."

His words were a death sentence. He wasn't saving me. He was imprisoning me. All for her. For Gisele.

In that moment, I finally understood. I was nothing to him. A pawn in his game of revenge, a temporary amusement, an obstacle to be removed.

My love, my pain, my children-they were all meaningless.