The day I went into labor, Howard Delgado called to say he'd been kidnapped.
I dragged myself off the operating table and staggered to the address he'd sent, bleeding with every step.
In my panic, I took a wrong turn—and that's when I saw him.
Howard. Perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him.
He stood in a shadowed corner with his buddies, laughing.
"Howard, isn't she giving birth today? You really lured her out here? Aren't you worried about the baby? This is, what, the tenth time? Don't you think we're going too far?"
"Yeah, man. The first time, you told her rivals had kidnapped you. She went alone. They told her it was her finger or your life—and she didn't hesitate. Snapped her own pinky. She used to love playing piano. Hasn't touched one since."
"The second time, you said someone ambushed you. She brought her little brother. He got hit by a car. He's been in a vegetative state ever since—"
"Shut up."
Howard's familiar growl cut through the air.
"You think I want this? But I failed Yvette when I married someone else. This is the only way to make her happy. What choice do I have?"
"But the baby... that's your own flesh and blood—"
"It's fine. There'll be other babies."
I collapsed against the wall, clutching my stomach as pain ripped through me.
Blood soaked through my clothes, pooling beneath me.
I laughed—a broken, hollow sound.
Howard... there won't be another baby.
You could have just told me you loved her.
I would have let you go.
1.
I woke up in a hospital bed.
"Mia Gilbert, you're finally awake..."
I turned toward the voice.
Howard sat beside me, disheveled, covered in grass stains and dirt like he'd crawled through hell to reach me.
His warm, steady hands tucked the blanket around me.
I noticed the bruises mottling his knuckles—purple and fresh.
He really committed to the act this time.
Ten fake kidnappings. He'd taken real beatings to sell every one.
He must have felt my gaze. Like always, he pulled his hands back, hiding them behind him.
"Mia, don't worry about me. I'm fine—"
"How did they let you go?"
I cut him off. This time, I didn't scramble to check his wounds. Didn't cup his face in my hands. Didn't cry over him.
Howard froze.
But he recovered fast, eyes reddening on cue.
"I got on my knees and begged them. I told them my wife was having our baby today. That I had to be there. That all I've ever wanted—my whole life—was to have a child with her..."
"The baby's gone, isn't it?"
My hand drifted to my stomach. Flat. Empty.
I cut off his performance mid-sentence.
Nine times before this, I'd believed every word. Every time, my heart had shattered for him.
Now, knowing the truth, all I felt was nausea. And a despair so complete it left no room for tears.
Howard sensed something had shifted.
He dropped to his knees beside my bed and grabbed my hand.
"I'm sorry, Mia. This is all my fault—"
I wrenched free of his grip.
"Howard. I want a divorce."
Once, I'd blamed him—for being reckless in business, for constantly putting himself in danger, for dragging me into one crisis after another.
But even then, I never thought about leaving. Because I loved him. The kind of love that's buried in your bones. I would have died for him without hesitation.
Now? Love had curdled into hate.
And I was finally free to walk away.
"No." His voice cracked. "I won't agree to it."
I didn't understand. I didn't care to.
"Fine. Then I'll have my lawyer file the papers."
Howard went still.
He stood frozen, staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
