Chapter 3

I walked back to my office in a daze, my colleague's cheerful words echoing in the sterile hallway. Pregnant. Six weeks. I placed a hand on my still-flat stomach, a single, hot tear slipping from the corner of my eye. This tiny, innocent life. Why now? Why did it have to choose this moment to arrive, in the middle of this wreckage?

As I turned down the corridor toward the maternity ward, a familiar silhouette made me freeze. I ducked behind a large supply cart, my heart pounding against my ribs.

It was Emilio. He was standing outside a private room, his arm wrapped around Hayden Cleveland, who was sobbing into his chest. He was murmuring words of comfort, his expression filled with a tender concern I hadn't seen directed at me in a long, long time.

Hayden's choked whisper carried down the hall. "Do you think she suspects anything?"

"Elana?" Emilio replied, his voice casual, dismissive. "She trusts me completely." It was a careless statement that revealed everything about how little he thought of me, of my intelligence.

"But when will you make me your wife?" Hayden pressed, her voice laced with a desperate ambition. "When can you give me and Leo the life we deserve?"

"Hayden, stop," he cut her off, a hint of steel in his tone. "Elana is my wife. That will not change."

My breath caught in my throat.

"It's the least I can do," he continued, his voice softer now, tinged with what sounded like guilt. "It's my penance for what I've done to her."

He pulled her into another hug, kissing her hair. As he did, Hayden's eyes flickered in my direction. For a split second, her gaze met mine. There was no surprise in her eyes, only a flash of cold, triumphant victory. She knew. She had known I was there the whole time.

I stumbled back, my body trembling. The tears I'd been holding back streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. He didn't want to divorce me out of guilt, but he would never give up his other family. What did that make me? A placeholder? A symbol of a commitment he no longer felt but was too cowardly to break?

His vows echoed in my mind, a cruel mockery. In sickness and in health. He had said them with such conviction. I had believed him.

I walked back to my office, my steps heavy but sure. This toxic, fractured love was a cancer. It had to be cut out.

I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment. An abortion.

Then I called Ayla.

"Draw up the divorce papers," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I want everything split down the middle. Everything I am entitled to." Ayla was stunned. In her eyes, we were the couple who had it all, the envy of everyone since med school.

I was sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot when my phone rang. It was Emilio. His voice was bright, excited.

"Hey, baby. Sorry about last night, another crisis at the office. Listen, tonight is the company's big anniversary gala. As the CEO's wife, you have to be there. It's important."

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. "Okay," I said, the word feeling like dust in my mouth.

He seemed to relax on the other end, relieved by my lack of questions. "Great. I'll see you tonight."

I hung up the phone. I looked out the window, but I didn't see anything. I just felt a deep, chilling premonition. He had no idea what was coming. He felt a sense of unease, a feeling that something precious was slipping through his fingers, but he couldn't name it.

He had no idea it was already gone.