The bodyguards dragged me outside, and I stumbled hard into a marble pillar. The impact sent tremors of pain through my whole body.
Bartholomew carried Vivien past me, his eyes churning with rage. He didn't so much as glance at the blisters already rising on my arm. He gave me one cold scoff, then turned and took her to get bandaged.
“Let her learn her lesson. She doesn't set foot inside until I'm back.”
Vivien looked at me from the cradle of his arms, triumph written all over her face.
The bodyguards had their orders. Every door was locked within seconds.
I fought with everything I had, but it was useless.
The midday sun was brutal. An hour passed. Sweat drenched my hair and ran into my eyes, and the burn on my arm had gone past pain into numbness.
My legs buckled with every step. I kept telling myself to hold on, just hold on.
I don't know how long it had been when the world went black and I hit the ground.
When I opened my eyes again, the smell of antiseptic filled my nose.
The nurse standing by my bed saw me stir. Her brow creased.
“Ms. Simmons, you really need to take better care of yourself. You're pregnant, and on top of that you've got heatstroke and a burn injury!”
My mind went blank.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, disbelief flooding through me. Pregnant.
Tears fell without warning, landing on the back of my hand, scalding hot. I flinched.
This baby. The worst possible timing.
I squeezed my eyes shut and dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to force myself to think clearly.
After a long time, I opened my eyes. Whatever had been alive in them before was gone. I spoke to the nurse, my voice raw.
“Schedule a procedure for me. Five days from now. I want a termination.”
The nurse froze.
“The baby is perfectly healthy. Are you sure you don't want to keep it?”
I nodded. “I'm sure.”
She didn't say another word. She turned and went to process the paperwork.
I lay on the hospital bed, perfectly still. My fingertips rested against my stomach. I mouthed the words I'm sorry without making a sound.
Bartholomew heard I'd been hospitalized. He assumed it was just heatstroke. He was waiting for my apology, and when none came, he didn't bother visiting. Not once.
Outside my door, the nurses kept their voices low, but every word carried through to me, sharp and clear.
“That Ms. Pruitt in the VIP suite, the one Mr. Vance adores? Ever since she got pregnant, he's been spoiling her rotten. He's at the hospital every single day, stocking her room with high-end supplements, holding her arm when she walks like she might shatter if she trips.”
“Everyone knows. Every socialite in the city envies her. Mr. Vance used to dote on Ms. Simmons like that, remember? And look what happened. Dropped her just like that. Now she's lying in a standard room, nobody checking on her, and he hasn't even come by once. How things change.”
“Ms. Pruitt is the one he really loves. Ms. Simmons? Old news. The title of Mrs. Vance is just an empty name at this point.”
A bitter laugh scraped out of my throat. My eyes burned red, and tears slid down in silence.
Five years. From teenage sweethearts to marriage vows, from a wedding that cost millions to promises of forever. None of it held up against a few of Vivien's tears, against the so-called Vance heir in her belly.
I curled into myself on the hospital bed, biting down on my lip so hard it split, tasting copper, refusing to let a single sound escape.
