Chapter 3
"Wait a minute."
Vincent yanked my elbow, dragging me away from the elevator banks and into a deserted alcove near the stairwell. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting harsh shadows across his face.
"Let go of me," I demanded, pulling my arm free.
"Listen to me, Jessica. My feelings for you are real." He stepped closer, trapping me against the cold plaster wall. "I love you. You have to believe that."
"You love me?" I scoffed, the sound bitter and dry. "You just introduced me to your parents as a volunteer blood donor for your mistress."
"I panicked! They don't know we're married. I had to protect the family image." Vincent ran a hand through his hair, messing up his usually perfect styling. "Mandy's pregnancy was a mistake. A stupid, careless accident. I never planned for this to happen."
"Then fix it. Tell her to handle it."
"I can't do that," he pleaded, his eyes wide. "The doctor said terminating the pregnancy would destroy her uterus. She 'd never be able to have kids again."
I stared at the man I had married. The urge to scream about the eight-week-old life currently growing inside my own womb clawed at my throat. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to tell him that I was the one carrying his real future.
"And what about my body, Vincent?" The words burned my tongue. "What about the child I lost because you pushed me to wait?"
"That 's different, and you know it." He sighed, completely oblivious to the knife he was twisting in my gut. "You can't get pregnant anyway. The scarring is too severe. The Miller family needs an heir, Jessica. My parents demand it. This solves everything."
He looked at me with absolute sincerity, expecting me to agree. Expecting me to sacrifice my dignity just as easily as I had sacrificed my career and my first child.
I opened my mouth to tell him the truth. To drop the bomb of my pregnancy right there in the sterile hallway and watch his perfect, calculated world burn.
But then I saw his face. The pure, selfish relief in his eyes.
A chilling calm washed over me. I let out a low, hollow chuckle.
Vincent blinked, his posture stiffening. "What's funny?"
"Nothing," I said, smoothing the lapels of his wrinkled shirt. "I know. A child growing up as a bastard is too pitiful. It's not fair to the baby."
"Exactly," he nodded eagerly.
"So, let's divorce."
"What?"
"Let's divorce," I repeated, my voice steady. "You and Mandy can get married. Give the child a proper name."
His shoulders dropped. A massive, genuine smile broke across his face. He didn't fight for me. He didn't hesitate. He just accepted the exit I handed him.
"You 're so understanding, Jess," he laughed, pulling me into a quick, suffocating hug. "I knew you 'd get it. Look, once she has the baby and the family is satisfied, we 'll quietly divorce her. Then you and I will remarry. I promise."
I stood perfectly still in his arms, feeling nothing but disgust.
Three days later, Vincent walked into the guest bedroom of our penthouse. I was zipping up a travel bag, preparing to move to a hotel.
He tossed a pale pink garment bag onto the mattress.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Mandy has a request," he said, avoiding my gaze. "She wants you in the bridal party."
"A bridesmaid?"
"Yes."
"Are you insane?" I crossed my arms. "I agreed to the divorce. I signed the papers. I am not standing at an altar watching you marry her."
"It 's just a show for my parents," Vincent argued, his tone hardening. "They think you're her friend from the hospital. If you stand up there, it proves there's no bad blood. It secures the kid's place in the family without raising suspicions."
"She wants to parade me around," I shot back. "She wants to humiliate me."
"Don't be paranoid, Jessica. It 's just one day. Do it for us. So we can get back to normal faster."
I looked at the pink bag. Fighting them meant noise, lawyers, and endless stress. The doctor 's warning about my fragile pregnancy echoed in my mind. "Total bed rest. No stress." I just needed them out of my life so I could protect my baby.
"Fine," I muttered. "I'll do it. Just leave me alone."
The wedding venue was a sprawling estate on the edge of the city. The floral arrangements smelled like rotting sugar. The day before the ceremony, the grand hall was empty except for the two of us.
Mandy stood by the altar in a white silk rehearsal dress, admiring the massive diamond on her finger. The wedding planner had just left to check on the catering.
"You don't look very festive, Jessica," Mandy smirked, dropping her fragile victim act entirely. Her voice held no trace of the weeping woman from the hotel.
"There's no one here to perform for, Mandy. You can drop the sweet routine."
She stepped down from the altar, her eyes hard and calculating. "I never cared about Vincent. Do you really think I want to wash a grown man's socks and listen to his boring corporate stories?"
"Then why do this?"
"I want the Miller accounts," she said flatly. "I want the estate. I want the status."
"You wrecked a home for a bank balance."
"You didn't have a home," Mandy sneered. "You had a hotel room you shared occasionally. I took what you couldn't hold onto. A barren wife is useless to a dynasty."
"You're nothing but a parasite," I said, turning away from her.
"Shut up!"
Mandy lunged forward. She planted both hands squarely on my chest and shoved me with all her strength.
My feet tangled in the heavy carpet. I stumbled backward, my arms flailing for purchase, but found nothing. I hit the edge of the marble steps hard. A blinding flash of pain exploded at the base of my spine, radiating instantly to my lower abdomen.
I gasped, curling onto my side.
"Oh, please. Stop being dramatic," Mandy scoffed.
A warm, terrifying wetness spread between my thighs. I looked down. Bright crimson stained the pristine white marble beneath me.
"Help," I whimpered, clutching my stomach. "My baby..."
Mandy glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when she saw the blood. Then, without a word, she turned and hurried out the side door, leaving me completely alone.
The hospital ceiling tiles blurred into a sea of endless white.
"I'm so sorry, Ms. Miller. The trauma from the fall, combined with the delay in getting you here... the pregnancy wasn't viable."
The doctor had left the room an hour ago, but his words kept replaying in my mind.
I sat upright in the uncomfortable recovery bed, pressing both hands against my empty, flat stomach. The hospital gown felt like sandpaper against my skin. Hot, silent tears spilled down my cheeks, dropping onto my wrists.
My baby was gone. The miracle I had prayed for, the secret I had guarded, wiped out on a marble floor while the woman who killed it prepared to walk down the aisle.
My phone sat on the metal bedside tray. The screen was dark. There were no missed calls from Vincent. No texts. He was at the rehearsal dinner right now, toasting to his new bride and his future heir.
I reached out and picked up the phone. My fingers trembled as I scrolled past Vincent 's name in my contacts, stopping at a number I hadn't dialed in two years.
I pressed call.
It rang twice.
"Jessica."
The voice on the other end was a deep, steady rumble. Just hearing it sent a jolt of electricity through my numb body.
"Joseph," I whispered, my voice cracking. I wiped a tear from my jaw. "You said you'd take me away. Does that still count?"
A heavy beat of silence stretched across the line.
"Of course," Joseph replied, his tone laced with a dark, undeniable certainty. "You're finally ready to be my bride. I'll pick you up in three days."
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