I couldn't stay in the hospital.
I just couldn't.
The endless white walls felt suffocating, and the silence was unbearable. There was only one thing I needed to do.
I had to see George.
I had to look him straight in the eyes and find out if the man whose voice I'd heard beside my hospital bed was truly the man I'd married.
Pulling my coat tighter around my battered body, I flinched as the rough fabric grazed my stitches. The cold night wind stung my skin, but it was nothing compared to the numbness settling deep inside my heart.
The taxi rolled through the gates of our estate, and my breath caught.
The mansion was glowing.
Every window blazed with light. Luxury cars crowded the driveway, each one belonging to the people George proudly called friends. Through the open windows came the sound of lively jazz, laughter, and clinking glasses.
A celebration.
My baby had died.
I had barely survived.
And my husband was hosting a party.
I pushed open the massive oak doors.
The first thing that hit me wasn't the music.
It was the laughter.
The entrance hall was packed with guests holding champagne glasses, chatting and smiling as though nothing terrible had ever happened.
"Happy birthday, George!"
Someone called it out from the living room.
Right.
His birthday.
Of course.
I stepped inside.
The hospital wristband still circled my wrist, my face pale and stripped of makeup, the bruises impossible to hide.
Conversation died almost instantly.
One guest after another turned toward me.
Even the music seemed to falter.
George stood beside the fireplace, swirling a glass of scotch while his arm rested comfortably around Donna's waist.
She was wearing my favorite red dress.
The moment his eyes landed on me, every trace of color vanished from his face.
The tumbler slipped from his hand and exploded against the marble floor.
"Eliza...?"
His voice cracked.
The room fell into absolute silence.
"Weren't expecting me?" I asked quietly. My throat was raw, but my voice didn't shake.
I walked farther into the room.
People instinctively stepped aside, staring at me as though they were seeing someone who had come back from the dead.
"Oh my God!"
Donna rushed forward, covering her mouth dramatically.
"Eliza! You're... you're actually here!"
George recovered enough to glare at me.
"What are you doing?" he muttered through gritted teeth, glancing nervously around at the confused guests.
I met his stare.
"I live here, don't I?" I replied evenly. "Am I no longer allowed to attend my own husband's birthday party?"
Whispers spread through the crowd.
"My goodness..." Mrs. Vansant murmured, clutching the necklace around her throat. "We heard you'd been in a terrible accident."
Another guest looked at me cautiously.
"...Is the baby all right?"
The room became impossibly still.
George's jaw tightened.
His eyes bored into mine, silently warning me not to say a word.
"We were told your condition was critical," George announced, forcing an uneasy smile for the audience. "The doctors weren't sure you'd survive. We... we were simply trying to prepare ourselves."
"But I did survive," I answered, never looking away from him.
"Against all odds."
Donna hurried over and seized both of my hands.
Her perfume was overpowering.
"Oh, thank heavens," she breathed dramatically. "I've been worried sick about you. I've cried all night."
My gaze dropped to the hands gripping mine.
Then I slowly looked back at her.
"You recovered pretty quickly yourself," I said. "Fast enough to slip into my dress."
Her smile flickered.
"I... I didn't pack anything. I rushed over the moment I heard what happened..."
"Eliza."
George's voice cut sharply across hers.
"You're obviously not well. You should be resting, not standing here."
He grabbed my arm.
His fingers dug painfully into my bruises.
Turning toward the guests, he forced another smile.
"If you'll excuse us, my wife needs to lie down."
Without waiting for my response, he dragged me upstairs.
The bedroom door slammed behind us.
The instant it locked...
His pleasant expression vanished.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled. "You were supposed to stay in that hospital."
"So I could die there?" I shot back.
For the briefest moment...
He froze.
Then his expression hardened.
"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "The doctors were treating you."
"Treating me?" I let out a bitter laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears. "I heard everything, George. Every single word. I heard you order them to kill me."
He dismissed it with a careless wave.
"You were drugged. The anesthesia messed with your head. You're imagining things."
Then he jabbed a finger toward me.
"Look at yourself. You burst in here looking half-dead, ruined my birthday party, and humiliated me in front of the board."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Humiliated you?" I cried. "Our baby is dead, George! We lost our child!"
"And whose fault is that?"
His voice exploded through the room.
He stepped closer until I instinctively backed away.
"What?"
"If you hadn't been so careless..." he snapped. "If you hadn't been standing where you were, none of this would've happened."
His finger pointed accusingly inches from my face.
"Do you have any idea what you've cost me? Grandfather is furious. That trust fund depended on producing an heir. Now I have to explain why his future great-grandchild is gone because you couldn't keep your footing."
I could only stare.
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
"Is that really all this is to you?" I whispered.
"The money?"
"It's bigger than money!" George barked, pacing furiously. "It's my future. My legacy. My company."
He raked a hand through his hair.
"That's why I married you. That's why I tolerated everything. And you failed."
His eyes burned with disgust.
"You had one responsibility."
I repeated the words numbly.
"One responsibility."
"To give me an heir."
He looked me up and down with open contempt.
"And now look at you."
His lip curled.
"You can't have children anymore."
He laughed bitterly.
"So tell me, Eliza... what use are you now?"
The ache inside my chest became almost unbearable.
Yet somehow...
Everything suddenly became clear.
The tears stopped.
The trembling disappeared.
I looked at the man I had loved for three years.
The man I had defended whenever anyone questioned him.
The man I had nearly given my life for.
And for the first time...
I felt absolutely nothing.
A smile slowly touched my lips.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't sad.
It was cold enough to match his.
"You're right," I said quietly.
His brows drew together.
"What?"
"I'm infertile now."
I nodded once.
"Our baby is gone."
"And that means I'm worthless to you."
Slowly, I slipped my wedding ring off my finger.
It felt strangely heavy.
Like chains I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.
I placed it on the bedside table between us.
The soft clink echoed through the room.
"Then divorce me," I said, meeting his eyes without a trace of fear.
"Right now."
