The basement smelled of mold and stale water, the dampness sticking to my skin like decay. Hunger clawed at my insides, my mouth dry and cracked, every vein throbbing from the dialysis sessions I had missed.
My body was failing me.
I curled up on the freezing concrete, arms locked around my knees, whispering nonsense to myself just to break the suffocating silence.
Then I heard movement. Footsteps. Voices drifting from above.
“Sir, I beg you,” the maid said shakily. “Madam hasn’t eaten in days. She needs dialysis. If this continues, she won’t survive.”
Leander replied without hesitation, his tone cold and merciless. “I don’t care. She dared lay a hand on Virelle and the baby. I brought Virelle here only to apologize, and she attacked her. That woman is rotten to the core. Let her stay down there and rot.”
The maid tried again, her voice quivering. “But sir, her treatment—if she misses it—”
“I’ve had enough,” Leander snapped. “No more doctors. No more sympathy. Let her suffer. If she dies, then so be it. She deserves it. And don’t ever let her ask about her mother again. After what she’s done, she has no right to call herself someone’s daughter.”
A hollow laugh shook out of me. My mother. He still thought she was alive. He didn’t even know I had made the hospital promise never to tell him when she passed. He had never cared enough to find out.
Time blurred. I don’t know how many hours passed — maybe even days. Eventually my strength vanished, and darkness swallowed me.
When I came to, the voice I heard wasn’t his.
“Please,” Virelle whispered outside the door. “Let her out. She’ll die if you keep her there.”
Keys jingled. The lock creaked. Light flooded the room as the maid gently shook my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Virelle standing there, tears streaking her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “For the money. For running away. For Leander. For everything. I never wanted this to happen to you.”
“I will never forgive you,” I croaked.
She flinched, but Leander cut in sharply, anger seeping into every word. “Have you lost your mind, Joyce? She’s apologizing to you! If it weren’t for her, you’d still be locked in that basement. And after what you did to her unborn child, you think you deserve mercy? She nearly lost it!”
Virelle touched his arm gently. “Leander, please. Take her to the hospital. She really needs help.”
He drove without speaking. Virelle sat beside him, one hand protectively over her belly while he squeezed it every now and then. He never once looked my way.
The moment we arrived, nurses rushed me inside, sticking needles into my arms, murmuring about how close I was to collapsing again. Their voices felt distant, like echoes underwater.
Later, I lay propped against pillows, my body stabilized but my soul in ruins. The television murmured softly in the background until a familiar voice sliced through the haze.
“…I only ran because I was scared,” Virelle said on the screen, sitting before a row of reporters. Her eyes were red, hands trembling as camera flashes exploded around her. “Joyce hated me after the incident with the money. She said she wanted me gone, that she’d kill me if I ever came back. That’s why I hid. I was terrified.”
Journalists scribbled furiously. Virelle dabbed at her tears, her performance flawless.
“And yet,” she added softly, “I still returned. Because I wanted to apologize. She’s my best friend. I don’t want her ruined because of me. I love her like my own sister, no matter what. I’ll repay everything.”
A bitter sound escaped my throat. That was it. I had reached my limit.
By evening, I was discharged. I steadied myself and stepped outside — straight into madness.
“Joyce! Did you really attack Virelle?”
“Did you threaten her unborn child?”
“Why won’t you forgive her when she’s admitted everything?”
Microphones shoved at my face, cameras blinding me, the noise crashing into my skull. I raised my arms weakly, overwhelmed.
Then Virelle pushed through the crowd.
“Stop!” she cried, wrapping her arms around me. “She’s my closest friend. Don’t treat her like this. She doesn’t deserve it.”
The reporters softened instantly. She shielded me like a hero, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here.”
Back at the estate, she hovered over me with exaggerated care.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, trailing after me. “Please forgive me, Joyce. Let’s start over.”
“I don’t want anything anymore,” I replied dully. “I just want to leave.”
Her expression collapsed. She reached for me, but I stepped away.
Then she suddenly bent forward, gasping.
“My stomach— it hurts…”
Blood soaked the fabric of her dress.
Leander rushed in. “Virelle!” He caught her as she sagged against him, panic flooding his face.
In a faint, trembling voice she whispered, “I think… I’m losing the baby…”
