We'd agreed to meet at the coffee shop where I worked. I walked in and there was Zelda Harding, settled into the window seat like she owned it.
Her eyes moved over me top to bottom—slow, deliberate, the kind of look that made you feel inspected.
"Ms. Fox, is it? I'd like a cappuccino. And I'd like you to make it for me personally."
I paused for a beat, then made her the coffee.
When I set the cup down beside her, she took a single sip and pushed it away with a look of distaste.
Moments later, she doubled over, clutching her lower belly, pain twisting across her face.
"Willow Fox, you're trying to hurt me!"
"I know you hate me, but that's between us. Why would you go after my child!"
Zelda collapsed, knocking the coffee cup off the table. It shattered against the floor.
Liquid pooled across the tiles. Shards sliced into her hand.
I rushed to help her up, but someone grabbed me hard and hauled me back.
Drew had appeared in the coffee shop without my noticing, and what he'd walked in on was Zelda crumpled on the ground.
"Willow, what are you doing to her!"
His voice was thick with disgust and fury.
He strode to Zelda and scooped her off the floor, and the tenderness in his eyes cut into me like something physical.
"Drew, it hurts, my stomach hurts so much..."
Zelda curled against his chest, face drained white, tears falling without stopping.
But I caught it. When her gaze flicked toward me, there was a flash of triumph at the bottom of her eyes.
"I only asked her to make me a coffee. She tampered with it on purpose. She wants to kill my baby..."
"That's not true! Drew, listen to me!"
I was shaking all over, stumbling a step closer, my voice cracking into something raw.
"I made the coffee the same way I always do—I didn't add anything! She just collapsed, she knocked the cup off herself—it wasn't me!"
"Test the coffee if you don't believe me. I swear I didn't do this."
I tried to get closer to him, tried to make him see through Zelda's act.
But the way Drew looked at me, it was like I was something unforgivable.
He let out a cold laugh, every word dripping with contempt:
"Willow, I watched her drink what you made and collapse right in front of me. You want me to believe you? Jealousy is one thing, but going after the baby inside her—how vicious can you be?"
"I didn't! I have never tried to hurt anyone!"
Something clenched around my chest so hard I couldn't breathe.
"We've been together all these years. Do you really think I'm capable of that?"
He wasn't listening. He couldn't see anything except Zelda's pain, Zelda's tears.
He stood slowly, something dangerous pressing down from every direction, and came toward me one step at a time.
I backed away on instinct and slammed into the edge of a table. Nowhere left to go.
"Since you enjoy hurting people so much, you should pay for it."
His gaze dropped to my right hand, still raised to plead my case, and something in his eyes went cold and vicious.
Before I could pull away, he lifted his foot and stomped down hard on my right index finger.
I heard the bone crack—a sharp, clear snap—and then pain ripped through my whole body at once.
Cold sweat soaked through my back instantly. It rolled down my temples, my cheeks.
I could feel the bone in my finger, broken, and the pain had me shaking so hard I couldn't stop.
Tears poured down my face before I even registered them.
I crouched on the floor, biting down on my lip until I tasted blood.
I looked up at Drew through blurred, tear-soaked vision, and even through the blur, I could see his face perfectly. Cold. Indifferent. Nothing.
Beside him, Zelda was still performing her part, soft concern laced through her voice:
"Drew, I'm sure Ms. Fox didn't mean it. Please, don't hurt yourself being angry on my account."
But the satisfaction in her eyes—she couldn't hide that no matter how hard she tried.
Drew lifted his foot off my hand. He didn't look at me again. His voice was ice:
"You brought this on yourself. If anything happens to Zelda or the baby, I won't let you off."
He gathered Zelda carefully into his arms, turned, and walked out. Not a single glance back.
Watching their silhouettes disappear through the door, the only thing left in me for Drew Simmons was hate.
By the time I reached the hospital, the bone in my index finger had been crushed to pieces.
The doctor stopped the bleeding, bandaged it, set and splinted it. The pain had gone so far past crying that I'd forgotten how.
The coffee shop fired me that same day, too afraid of offending Zelda Harding. All I had left, sitting in that hospital bed, was hate so deep it had no bottom.
It took Drew three days to remember I existed.
He rushed to the hospital to find me, but all he found was an empty bed.
"Where is she?"
The nurse blinked at him. "Ms. Fox checked out the same day she was admitted."
