I knew it was wrong. Every fiber in my being screamed that it was. But what choice did I have?
I was carrying a child that was never wanted by the man who helped create it. A child whose existence meant nothing to him, and everything to me. A child whose life now sat at the crossroads of my own.
If Jameson wanted to be free, then I’d give him that freedom. I’d let him be happy with Rose, with his lies, with his grand dreams of inheritance soaked in betrayal.
So that morning, I forced myself to walk into the office of a divorce lawyer. The air was cold. Too cold.
“I want to file for divorce,” I said, voice flat.
The lawyer, an older man in a neat gray suit, pushed up his glasses and scanned the prenup. “Mrs. Diana, according to this clause… you cannot legally initiate a divorce unless one of the grandfathers—either yours or Mr. Jameson’s—provides written consent.”
“I’ll get my grandfather to sign it,” I said without hesitation. “File it.”
He gave me a strange look. A pitied one. But I didn’t have time for pity.
I left his office feeling lighter. A strange mix of dread and relief swirled in my chest.
When I got home, I didn’t notice the water on the marble floor near the entrance. My heel caught. My weight shifted.
And then—Pain. White-hot, blinding pain.
I screamed as I hit the ground, my knees buckling first, then my elbow slamming against the floor. A sharp crack ran through my leg. I tried to move—but something was wrong. I was wrong.
“Help!” I cried.
Footsteps thundered. Jameson appeared.
But instead of helping me, his face twisted in disgust. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
My mouth trembled. “I think—I think I broke something. I slipped—”
“Are you trying to harm the baby?” he barked. “You’re so goddamn clumsy. You always do this! If anything happens to my child—”
“I—I can’t move—”
“Then try harder. God, you’re pathetic. Do you know how important this child is to my family? To me?”
Before I could respond, she arrived. Rose. Hair perfectly curled. Face painted in innocence.
“Oh my God, Diana,” she gasped. “This is all my fault! I left the floor wet when I started cooking for you. I—I was just too excited and forgot to clean it. I didn’t mean for this to happen. We should bring her to the hospital. I mean, what about the baby?”
Jameson’s voice instantly softened. “It’s not your fault, baby. It’s her fault for not looking before walking. And, you shouldn’t be cooking anyway. She should be doing that. Where have you even been all day, Diana?”
I couldn’t speak. My whole body trembled from betrayal. All I could think about was the baby, and it seems like this was the last straw. I thought I could still find reason now to terminate this, but I will now.
“You should’ve cooked for us!” he yelled. “What’s the point of having a wife who does nothing?”
“I’ll clean it,” I whispered, trying to sit up, even as pain radiated through my body.
Rose knelt beside me. “Jameson, we should take her to the hospital—”
“No,” he said. “She’ll be fine. Let’s just go out. I know you’re starving.”
He kissed her right in front of me. Right above where I lay broken.
Before they left, Jameson threw a mop down beside me. “Clean it before Rose slips, too.”
Rose smiled. Bent down. “Don’t be too hard on her,” she said sweetly. “She’s your wife.”
Then, quieter—right into my ear—”Wife on paper. I’m the real one. So why don’t you disappear already?”
And just like that, they were gone.
I stayed on the floor, unable to move for what felt like hours. Eventually, I crawled to the bedroom, dragging my weight like a dying animal.
Once there, I vomited again. My body was rejecting everything. My hands trembled. I was cold and burning at the same time.
Then—darkness.
When I woke, the air smelled strange. Bitter. Smoky.
I sat up, and it hit me all at once. Smoke.
The house was on fire. I coughed violently, stumbling to my feet. The kitchen—there must have been something left on the stove. Rose’s cooking. Of course. She must have purposely done this to kill me.
“Help!” I screamed, covering my nose with my arm.
But the smoke was getting thicker. My legs buckled again. I reached for my phone. I called Jameson. No answer.
I called again. Nothing.
Tears fell freely as I opened my contacts. My last chance.
“Grandfather…” I whispered as it rang. “Please… help me… help…”
I collapsed before I could hear his voice.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a white room. A hospital. The IV in my arm dripped slowly.
I could hear voices outside.
“You need to choose between her and the baby. The cancer is spreading too fast, and then it also affects her body due to the smoke filling her lungs.”
There was a pause. Then a new voice. Familiar. Deep. Strong.
“Terminate it,” he said. “Save Diana. No matter what.”
Wait, Jameson? No. Not him.
Could it be Killian? The man whose heart I broke years ago?
