I woke up to the sterile light of the hospital, the scent of antiseptic sharp in my nose and the weight of loss pressing down on my chest.
The first thing I saw was Jaxon, slumped over the edge of my bed, his shoulders shaking with what looked like honest grief.
For a moment, I almost believed it—almost let myself hope that beneath all the lies, there was a part of him that cared.
He looked up as I stirred, his eyes red and puffy. “Beatrice… Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant again?” His voice cracked, and he reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “They just told me—the doctors said the baby died. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I stared at him, searching his face for any flicker of truth. But I saw only the performance, the rehearsed sorrow.
I knew, deep inside, that he and Hannah were the reason I kept losing my babies. I knew the food last night wasn’t just a coincidence. But I couldn’t let him see that I knew. I couldn't let them know I didn't care anymore. After all, I planned for abortion. They helped me make it easy.
“I was supposed to make it a surprise but it's too late now,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Jaxon wiped his eyes, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, too. For not taking care of you… for everything. Maybe it was the food, maybe I did something wrong. I should have been more careful.”
“It’s okay,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “This isn’t the first time... and the doctor said I'm really sensitive.”
Hannah appeared in the doorway, her face arranged in a mask of concern. She hurried to my side, patting my arm gently. “Don’t worry, Beatrice… Everything will be okay. You’re strong. Surely, you’ll have a child again.”
Jaxon nodded, glancing at Hannah with a strange glint in his eye. “Actually, Hannah is pregnant. Maybe we can… adopt her baby? That way, we can have a family.”
I felt my stomach churn, rage and disgust swirling inside me.
I turned to Jaxon, my voice icy. “Why would we adopt? What about the father? Are you the father, Jaxon?”
He recoiled, shaking his head emphatically. “No, of course not! Hannah used a sperm donor. It’s all above board.”
Hannah chimed in quickly, her smile brittle. “Yes, just a donor. Nothing more… and you know how I always wanted to have a baby and when they told me I had cured my infertility issues, I decided to have one... Even with not father. I mean, you're there for me, right? And Jaxon...”
I nodded, pretending to accept their story. “Yeah… okay. Congratulations. You both can do whatever you want to do.”
Jaxon brightened instantly, his mood shifting like the flick of a switch. “That’s great news, Beatrice. We can be a happy family together.”
I forced a smile, exhaustion weighing me down. “Let me rest for a while.”
They left me alone. I stared at the ceiling, replaying every word, every lie, every moment that had brought me here.
My body ached with loss, but my mind was sharper than ever. I would not let them destroy me. Not now.
My phone buzzed on the side table. I reached for it, hands trembling, and saw a message from my lawyer: Divorce finalized.
A wave of relief crashed over me, mingled with fear and hope. I was free from Jaxon—at least on paper. But I knew he wouldn’t let me go so easily. Not with the company, not with the secrets I carried.
Later that day, I left the hospital. I went straight to the church, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread. Lorenzo was waiting for me, dressed in a simple suit, his eyes alive with determination.
He took my hands in his, his touch gentle but firm. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, my voice steady. “Yes. I need you, Lorenzo. Not just for me, but for justice. For all the things they’ve done. Help me bring them down and you can demand anything fro me.”
The ceremony was brief, almost surreal. I barely registered the words, the vows, the ring on my finger.
All I could think about was survival, about the fight ahead.
When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, I felt something shift inside me—a new beginning, a new chance.
Afterwards, we sat together in the quiet of the church, the stained glass casting colored shadows across our faces.
I looked at Lorenzo, my new husband, and spoke the words I’d been holding deep inside.
“They’re planning to kill me on my birthday,” I said, my voice trembling but clear. “Jaxon and Hannah—they want to take me out on the yacht. I’m terrified of water. They want to push me overboard and make it look like an accident. I overheard everything. I would still come though because I’m not yet done with them, so save me.”
Lorenzo’s hand tightened around mine. “I’ll be there. I promise. We’ll be ready.”
I nodded, feeling a strange mix of dread and defiance. Then I went home, bracing myself for whatever performance Jaxon and Hannah had prepared.
The moment I stepped into the house, I found Hannah in the hallway, dragging suitcases and boxes. Jaxon stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Oh, Beatrice,” Jaxon said, not bothering to hide the coldness in his voice, “Hannah will use our room now. She likes the view and the sunlight. She’ll be here so we can take care of her and her baby. Just use the guest room for now.”
I forced a smile, swallowing the bitterness. “Okay.”
Hannah flashed me a bright, insincere grin. “Oh, thank you, my best friend. You’re really the best!”
I just smiled, holding back everything I wanted to say.
Later, as Hannah continued unpacking, I heard a crash from the bedroom. I rushed in to find her standing over a shattered painting—the one my mother had given me, the last gift before she died. The frame splintered, glass everywhere, the canvas torn.
Hannah looked up, feigning surprise. “Oops! I’m so sorry, Beatrice. I guess I’m just clumsy today.”
But I saw the satisfaction flicker across her face, the deliberate malice in her eyes. Rage surged through me, hot and uncontrollable. She knew how important it was to me!
I stepped forward and shoved her, harder than I meant to, the years of betrayal boiling over.
Hannah stumbled back, but before anything else could happen, Jaxon stormed in, his face twisted with fury.
He didn’t hesitate—his hand shot out, and he slapped me across the face, the crack echoing through the room.
“Are you insane?” he shouted, eyes blazing. “Are you trying to kill her baby because you can’t have one? God, I knew it! You were always jealous of Hannah!”
