I dragged myself toward a rescue helicopter not far away. The sharp ice on the ground tore at my palms, leaving bloody trails across the white snow.
"Carrie Hayes!" Mylo's voice boomed from behind me. "Don't think this grand performance gets you off the hook! You're going to apologize to Rimes. Her ankle is your fault!"
If I had heard those words in the past, my heart would have shattered. I would have cried, pleaded, and begged him to believe me. But not anymore.
I touched my increasingly flat abdomen and shook my head through my tears. This time, the child and I owed Mylo nothing.
A doctor from another rescue team leaped from her helicopter. Seeing me covered in blood and crawling on the ground, she cried out, her voice hoarse with horror, "Are you all insane? There's a critically injured person here, why is no one helping her?"
My body went limp, all strength draining from my limbs as I collapsed onto the frozen ground.
From the blood loss, the sounds around me blurred to a dull roar, and I could barely keep my eyes open.
Mylo strode over, a smug look on his face, and said to the doctor, "Doctor, don't mind her. She's perfectly fine. This is just another little trick she plays to get my attention."
The doctor's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. She screamed, "She's dying, and you're telling me not to mind her? I'm a doctor. Do you think I can't tell when someone is faking?"
Her scream drew more people over. Everyone from the company knew I was Mylo's wife.
As the company's CEO, being surrounded and challenged by so many people made Mylo’s face flush with embarrassment. He kicked me as I lay on the ground.
"Carrie, that's enough. You're overacting. Don't push your luck. Don't think that just because you're my wife, you can humiliate me like this in front of the entire company. If you keep this up, I'll have my lawyer sue you for slander."
Seeing no reaction from me, Mylo crouched down, grabbed my face, and forced my head up. He commanded, "Carrie, speak. Tell them the truth. Tell them you're acting."
Seeing my half-lidded eyes and my refusal to obey, Mylo’s patience snapped. He slapped me hard across the face.
That slap yanked me back from the brink of unconsciousness. Through the stinging pain, the first words I registered were, "Speak, Carrie! Say you're faking it, that you're playing the victim like you always do."
I shook my head, unable to form words. My hand moved unconsciously toward my stomach.
A mother’s instinct took over, my first impulse to shield my child, even now.
Mylo's gaze followed my hand, and he saw me still touching my stomach. He snorted coldly. "You're really committed to the role, aren't you? What, are you going to tell me you're pregnant next?"
At those words, my tears finally broke free, spilling from my bloodshot eyes.
Yes, we had a child, but that child had just been torn from me.
Seeing me cry, Mylo rolled his eyes in contempt. "Crying on cue? With acting skills like that, it's a shame you're not in Hollywood."
He looked up at the doctor and the surrounding crowd. "See? I told you she was acting. She's so riddled with guilt she can't even speak. Alright, everyone, show's over."
The doctor's patience finally snapped, and she shoved Mylo aside. "You madman! Can't you see she's hemorrhaging from a miscarriage? She'll die if she doesn't get to a hospital now!"
Mylo staggered back a few steps, landing on the ground. His first reaction wasn't to look at me but to demand sharply, "Did Carrie pay you to say that?"
This time, even the colleagues watching from the sidelines could no longer stand by in silence.
