Chapter 4

I woke up in a dark room. The only light came from the sliver under the door. Every part of my body screamed in pain. A deep, hollow ache had settled in my womb, a constant, brutal reminder of what I had lost.

Fletcher appeared out of the shadows, a phantom in the gloom.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, that same twisted, soft question.

I turned my face away, staring at the blank wall. Silence was my only weapon.

The physical pain was nothing. A cut, a bruise, even the agony of the botched abortion... it was all temporary. The real pain was him. The way he hollowed me out, leaving nothing but an empty shell.

"I saved your life, you know," he said, his voice a low murmur. "I could have let you bleed out on that table. Your life belongs to me. I decide when it ends."

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "So don't be defiant, Kiara. It's unbecoming."

I closed my eyes, willing him to disappear.

His hand tightened, a warning. "Don't ignore me." He let go with a sigh of frustration and left, plunging the room back into total darkness.

The next day, Aislinn came to visit. She carried a tray with a bowl of soup. Her smile was brittle.

"Poor Kiara," she cooed, setting the tray down. "Losing a baby must be so devastating. But don't worry, Fletcher and I will have plenty of healthy, legitimate children."

She sat on the edge of my bed, her perfume cloying. "He was with me all last night, you know. He said he can't stand the sight of you. So broken. So used."

I finally looked at her. "I'm still his wife, Aislinn. That's a legal fact you can't change."

Her mask of sympathy cracked. Her eyes flashed with fury. "You bitch!"

She stood up abruptly, knocking the tray to the floor. The bowl shattered, and dark, steaming soup splattered across the white rug. Pills from my nightstand scattered among the shards.

"Trying to win his pity, are you?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Pathetic."

I just looked at the mess on the floor. It was all so absurd. The expensive rug, the broken porcelain, the wasted medicine. My wasted life.

I heard footsteps in the hall. Fletcher's footsteps.

Aislinn's eyes widened. A cruel, calculating light entered them. She grabbed a shard of the broken bowl, dragged it across her own arm, and let out a pained cry just as Fletcher opened the door.

"Fletcher! She attacked me!" she sobbed, holding up her bleeding arm. "I just came to see how she was, and she went crazy!"

Fletcher's eyes, cold with fury, landed on me. "What did you do?"

I didn't bother to deny it. He wouldn't believe me anyway. "Check the security cameras," I said, my voice flat. "They'll show you exactly what happened."

He ignored me completely. He rushed to Aislinn's side, his expression full of concern. "Are you okay? Let me see." He gently took her arm, examining the shallow cut as if it were a mortal wound.

He glared at me over his shoulder. "We'll deal with you later."

He led a sniffling Aislinn out of the room, leaving me with the wreckage.

I slowly got out of bed, my body protesting with every movement. I knelt on the floor and began picking up the larger pieces of the broken bowl. A sharp edge sliced my finger, and a drop of red blood welled up. I didn't even flinch. I was numb.

Two of Fletcher's security guards came for me a few hours later. They dragged me, half-dressed and weak, to a private clinic.

"Did you check the cameras?" I asked Fletcher, my voice hoarse from disuse.

He didn't even look at me. "Her word is enough. I don't need to see you acting like a wild animal to know you're guilty."

Aislinn was a monster, but she was a clever one. She had played her part perfectly. She knew Fletcher's biases, his deep-seated resentment of me. She had stolen my family, my name, my husband's affection, and now she was stealing my last shred of dignity.

They held me down while a doctor stitched the cut on my finger. The needle jabbed into my skin, over and over. I was so weak, I eventually passed out from the pain and exhaustion.

I woke up alone in a sterile white room. The IV in my arm dripped a clear fluid into my veins. I pushed myself up, my head swimming. I stumbled to the door and looked down the hall.

I saw them. Fletcher, Aislinn, and my father, Richard Norton.

My father had his hand on Aislinn's shoulder, his face a picture of paternal love and concern. A look he had never once given me.

Fletcher was standing close to her, his posture protective. They looked like a perfect family.

And I was the outsider. The mistake. The one they all wished would just disappear.

Fine, I thought, a cold resolve settling over me. I'll grant your wish.

Soon, I will disappear from your lives forever.