Bianca Winters stood with her arms crossed, the picture of casual indifference.
"She refuses to eat properly," she told the doctor, shaking her head with feigned concern. "She keeps saying she needs to maintain her figure..."
I closed my eyes, sealing my lips. Arguing now would only waste the little energy I had left.
The moment Dr. Hayes left, the facade dropped. Bianca leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. Her voice was a low, venomous hiss.
"Keep your mouth shut. You got lucky this time, Katherine. But next time? You might not be so fortunate."
A chill ran down my spine, and my body trembled involuntarily. Bianca wasn't just following Damien's orders anymore—she had gone rogue. She didn't just want me out of the way. She wanted me dead.
When she finally left to pay the bills, I seized my chance. I turned to Nurse Jenny, who was organizing instruments on the bedside tray.
"Excuse me," I rasped. "Could I borrow your phone? Mine broke when I fell. I just want to let my family know I'm safe."
A lie, of course. My phone hadn't broken—it had been confiscated months ago. For the past trimester, every message sent to the outside world had been typed by Bianca's fingers. My life in the Crawford household wasn't a marriage. It was house arrest.
Nurse Jenny hesitated, glancing at the door, but her compassion won out. She unlocked her screen and handed the device to me.
My fingers shook as I punched in the number from memory.
Pick up. Please.
"Mom?" I whispered the moment the line connected. "Please come save me. The baby and I... we aren't safe."
I handed the phone back just seconds before the door clicked open. Bianca breezed in, a plastic smile on her face.
"Katherine, the doctor said you're stable. We'll observe you for a few hours, then we can go home tomorrow."
I looked at her blankly. I didn't argue. I didn't fight.
"Okay," I said softly.
Mrs. Crawford arrived faster than I'd dared to hope.
At three in the afternoon, the ward door was thrown open. She marched in, her presence immediately filling the room.
"Katherine!" She rushed to the bedside, eyes scanning me with frantic worry. "How are you? How is the baby?"
Before I could answer, Bianca lunged forward, launching into her rehearsed script.
"Auntie, it's all my fault! Katherine went downstairs and slipped—I wasn't fast enough to catch her..." She squeezed out a few crocodile tears. "I feel so guilty..."
Mrs. Crawford didn't even glance at her. Her gaze was locked on my protruding collarbones and hollow cheeks.
"Look at you," she breathed, horror coloring her tone. "You've wasted away. It's been three months since I saw you last... how did this happen? I tried to visit, but you kept telling me not to come."
It wasn't me. It was Bianca, using my identity, barring the doors.
Seeing Mrs. Crawford's suspicion, Bianca quickly interjected again. "Since Katherine got pregnant, her appetite has been terrible. She just can't keep anything down—"
At that moment, Mrs. Crawford's assistant stepped forward and set an insulated container on the bedside table. Mrs. Crawford opened it herself, releasing a cloud of steam.
"Drink some soup," she commanded gently. "You need nourishment."
The rich, savory scent hit me like a physical blow. My stomach, betraying my dignity, let out a loud, desperate growl.
I didn't wait for a spoon. I grabbed the bowl and drank. Then another. Two full bowls in rapid succession, the hot liquid soothing the gnawing void inside me.
Mrs. Crawford watched, her brow furrowing deeply. "This doesn't look like a lack of appetite. This looks like starvation."
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and nodded, tears welling in my eyes.
"I only get one meal a day," I whispered. "I've been hungry for a long time."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Mrs. Crawford turned her head slowly toward Bianca. Her gaze was sharp enough to draw blood.
Bianca's face went rigid. "No, that's not true! She wanted to diet! She refused to eat to keep her figure. I make her nutritious meals every single day!"
I ignored her completely. I gripped Mrs. Crawford's hand with desperate strength.
"Mom, please, can I go live with you?" A tear escaped, tracking through the grime on my face. "I'm hungry every day. They make me live in the housekeeper's quarters. There are no windows... I can't even see the sunlight. And I have to wash my own clothes by hand..."
"Katherine!" Bianca shrieked, panic pitching her voice high. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
Mrs. Crawford slammed her hand on the bedside table.
"Enough!"
She turned back to me, her face a mask of fury and heartbreak. "Damien... that ungrateful wretch. To treat his own wife and child this way? Unforgivable."
She squeezed my hand, her voice softening. "Pack your things. Today, you're moving back to the main estate. You'll live with us."
"No!"
The objection exploded out of Bianca before she could stop it. Her tone was hard, commanding—completely out of character for the sweet nutritionist she pretended to be.
Realizing her mistake, she quickly softened. "I mean... Auntie, I'm a professional nutritionist. I know Katherine's dietary needs best. I'll take good care of her, I promise."
Mrs. Crawford drew herself up to her full height. The matriarch of the Crawford family did not tolerate insolence.
"This is not your place to speak," she said, her voice like ice. "If you were truly taking care of her, how did she become a skeleton? How did she fall on your watch?"
She turned her back on Bianca, dismissing her entirely. "Get the car ready. We're leaving."
