Chapter 3
The servant's room they'd confined me to was barely larger than a closet. A narrow bed, a small dresser, and a window that wouldn't open—my new prison. The master suite where I'd spent six years of my marriage was now forbidden to me. Damien had made it clear: I was no longer worthy of comfort.
"Strap her down," Dr. Chen instructed his assistant, his voice clinical and detached.
I didn't fight as they bound my wrists and ankles to the chair. What was the point? My strength was fading with each passing day, drained away with my blood.
"The blessed child requires constant nourishment from its original source," Dr. Chen explained, tapping the needle against my vein. "Your blood contains the supernatural essence that keeps it alive in Taylor's womb."
The needle slid into my arm, and I watched my blood flow through the tube toward the other room where Taylor waited. She'd insisted on watching the process, on seeing the life force that should have been mine transferred to her.
"Again?" I whispered, feeling lightheaded already.
"Daily transfusions are necessary," Dr. Chen replied, checking my pulse. "Your body is strong, but even you have limits."
Through the partially open door, I could see Taylor lounging on a chaise, her hand resting on her growing belly. With each transfusion, she grew more radiant while I withered.
"She's kicking again," Taylor called out, her voice syrupy sweet. "Feel this, Damien."
I closed my eyes as Damien's hand touched Taylor's stomach, his face softening with wonder. The same expression he'd never once shown me.
"Evangeline," Taylor purred, entering my room as Dr. Chen prepared the next bag of blood. "You should see the nursery. Damien has spared no expense."
She circled my chair slowly, trailing her fingers across my shoulders. "Yellow walls. Handmade furniture from Italy. A mobile of stars and moons that play actual lullabies."
I remained silent, focusing on the steady beep of the monitor tracking my vitals.
"We're planning the wedding for spring," she continued, leaning close to my ear. "After the baby comes, of course. Damien says it's only proper that our child have both parents present."
"Congratulations," I managed, my voice barely audible.
Taylor's smile faltered slightly at my calm. She'd wanted tears, begging, perhaps even rage. My dignity was the last thing she wanted to see.
---
"Take this," Helena whispered, slipping a small vial into my palm during one of her secret visits. "Iron supplement. You need it more than she does."
I swallowed it gratefully, watching as she tucked a sandwich beneath my pillow. "Thank you," I murmured.
Helena's eyes filled with tears. "I saw her, Evangeline. The first miscarriage—it was deliberate."
My heart skipped. "What?"
"She threw herself down the servants' stairs when no one was looking." Helena's voice trembled. "I was dusting the hallway... I saw everything."
"Why didn't you tell Damien?"
Helena's laugh was bitter. "Who would believe me? The old woman against his precious Taylor?" She pressed something hard into my hand—a small cell phone. "Call someone who cares about you. Someone who can help."
I clutched it tightly as she slipped away.
That night, I retrieved the business card from my hidden journal—the one Leonidas had given me six years ago. His name embossed in silver: *Leonidas Rivera*. The number beneath it was still clear despite the years.
Pride warred with desperation as I stared at it. I'd promised myself I'd never need rescuing. Yet here I was...
---
"Damien!" Taylor's scream echoed through the mansion. "Something's wrong!"
I struggled to sit up as commotion erupted outside my door. Through the crack, I could see Taylor doubled over, clutching her stomach as Damien held her.
"She's been drinking my tea," Taylor gasped, her face contorted in pain. "I saw her... sneaking into the kitchen... adding something..."
Damien's eyes blazed with fury as he stormed toward my room. "Search everything," he ordered the security guards.
They tore through my few possessions while I watched helplessly. One guard emerged with my hidden journal—the one place I'd allowed myself honesty.
"Found this," he announced.
Damien snatched it, flipping through pages of my private thoughts. "'Today he looked at me with something almost like regret,'" he read aloud, his voice mocking. "'I wonder if he ever loved me at all.'"
Taylor appeared in the doorway, her earlier distress mysteriously vanished as she watched Damien discover my vulnerability.
"'Sometimes I dream of escape,'" he continued reading. "'Of someone coming to save me.'"
He tossed the journal into the fireplace where flames immediately caught the pages. "Save you?" he snarled. "No one's coming for you."
I watched my words burn, my last sanctuary reduced to ash as Taylor smiled behind his back—a smile that promised more cruelty to come.
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