Liv POV
I was packing the last of my things when Michael stormed back into the apartment.
He didn't bother to knock. He kicked the door open with enough force to rattle the frame.
He no longer resembled the broken man from the alley. Now, he looked like a cornered animal.
"You knew," he accused, pointing a shaking finger directly at my chest. "You knew about the kid and you didn't tell me."
I let out a laugh—a dry, humorless sound that scraped my throat.
"I found out an hour ago," I shot back. "Don't put this on me."
He paced the small room like a caged tiger. "She tricked me. Serena tricked me. But you... you pushed me away. If you had just given me a child when I asked, none of this would have happened."
I stared at him, stunned into momentary silence.
The audacity was breathtaking.
"I was pregnant," I said. The words slipped out before I could stop them, a desperate defense against his delusion.
Michael froze. "What?"
"I was pregnant," I repeated, my voice gaining a jagged edge. "When you were playing house with Serena. When you were stealing our money. I was pregnant."
He looked at my stomach, his eyes widening as the math clicked into place.
"Was?" The word left him in a whisper.
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "After the gallery... after she pushed me..."
He grabbed my arms suddenly.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he shouted, shaking me hard enough to make my teeth snap together. "You kept my child from me?"
"You didn't want a child!" I screamed, wrenching away from his grip. "You wanted leverage! I heard you with the lawyer!"
"That was business!" he roared, his face twisting. "This is my legacy!"
He was hurting me. His fingers were digging into my bruised arms like talons.
"Let go," I gasped.
"No!" He shoved me back against the wall. "You ruined everything. You made me look like a fool. And now you tell me there's a baby? You're lying. You're trying to manipulate me just like her."
He was projecting—taking all his sins and painting them onto my skin.
"Get out," I choked out.
His phone rang, shrill and demanding in the small space.
He ignored it. He was breathing hard, his face inches from mine, eyes wild.
"I am not the villain here," he hissed. "I am a victim of two lying women."
The phone rang again. And again.
He finally pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
His face changed instantly. The anger vanished, replaced by cold panic.
"It's the police," he said, his voice dropping. "Serena... they arrested her. For fraud. Embezzlement."
He looked at me. Then he looked at the door.
"I have to go," he said.
"What?" I couldn't believe it. "You're leaving? Now?"
"She has my passwords," Michael said, already backing away. "She has access to the offshore accounts. If she talks, I lose everything. The company. The estate. Everything."
He let go of me completely.
"I have to stop her," he said.
"Michael," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm bleeding."
I felt it then—a warm, wet slide down the inside of my leg.
He looked down. He saw the dark red drop of blood on the floor.
He looked at his watch.
"Call an ambulance," he said.
Then he turned around and ran out the door.
He chose his money. He chose his mess.
He left me bleeding on the floor of a rental apartment.
Pain ripped through my abdomen like a serrated knife. It was sharper than before, a twisting, grinding agony that doubled me over.
I slid down the wall until I hit the floor.
I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slick and clumsy.
I dialed my mother.
"Mom," I whispered into the receiver. "Help."
The room went dark at the edges, the shadows creeping in.
I curled into a ball around my stomach.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the tiny life fading inside me. "I'm so sorry I picked him."
The pain came in waves. It washed over me, drowning out the sound of the city outside.
I was alone.
And as the darkness took me completely, I realized the truth. The man I had loved was not just a cheater.
He was a monster.
