Chapter 3
The hospital corridor stretched before me like a sterile purgatory, its fluorescent lights casting everyone in a sickly pallor. Legend's hand clamped around my upper arm as he steered me toward the examination room, his grip tight enough to leave marks.
"You're hurting me," I whispered, trying to pull away.
"Stop making a scene," he hissed through clenched teeth, his public smile never faltering. "This is happening, Aliana. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for everyone."
Everyone. Not me. Never me anymore.
The doctor—a colleague of Legend's I'd never met before—greeted us with practiced warmth that didn't reach his eyes. "Mrs. Evans, we've reviewed your preliminary tests. You're a compatible donor for Ms. Guzman."
My heart sank. I'd been praying for incompatibility, for some medical reason to escape what was coming. Legend's satisfied smile told me he'd expected nothing less.
"I'm pregnant," I reminded them, one hand instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach. "Surely that complicates things."
"We've accounted for that," the doctor replied smoothly. Too smoothly. "The procedure can be safely performed with... certain accommodations."
Something in his hesitation made my skin crawl. I looked between him and Legend, suddenly understanding the unspoken conversation happening over my head.
"No," I said, backing toward the door. "I won't do this. Not while I'm carrying our child."
Legend's face hardened as he pulled me into a corner, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Listen carefully. Our daughter is spending the day with my mother. One call from me, and you'll never see her again."
"You wouldn't," I breathed, searching his face for any trace of the man I'd married.
"Try me." His eyes were cold, unfamiliar. "Sign the consent forms, or I swear to God, Aliana, you'll lose everything."
With trembling hands, I signed my name on the dotted lines, not even reading the documents placed before me. What choice did I have? Our daughter was all I had left.
As they prepped me for the procedure, a nurse administered what she called "standard pre-operative medication." The room began to swim almost immediately, darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision. The last thing I saw was Legend standing in the doorway, his expression impassive as I slipped into unconsciousness.
* * *
I woke to pain—sharp, deep, and radiating from both my lower back and my abdomen. The hospital room was dimly lit, monitors beeping steadily beside me. Something felt profoundly wrong, an emptiness that went beyond physical discomfort.
"You're awake."
Legend sat in a chair by the window, scrolling through his phone. He didn't look up.
"What happened?" My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, raspy and weak.
"The bone marrow extraction was successful," he said flatly. "Kyla is receiving the transplant now."
I shifted, wincing at the unexpected intensity of pain in my abdomen. This wasn't just from the bone marrow procedure. With dawning horror, I pressed my hand against my stomach.
"Legend," I whispered, "what did they do to me?"
He finally looked up, his expression clinically detached. "The pregnancy would have complicated your recovery and compromised the quality of the donation. The doctors recommended termination."
The room tilted around me. "You... you had them abort our baby?"
"It was a medical necessity." His tone suggested he was discussing a minor inconvenience, not the death of our child.
Something broke inside me then—a final thread of hope that the man I loved was still somewhere inside this monster. Tears streamed down my face as the full weight of his betrayal crashed over me.
"How could you?" I sobbed. "That was our baby. Our child."
"Don't be dramatic," Legend said, rising from his chair. "It was barely a pregnancy. And Kyla's life is at stake."
Kyla. Always Kyla.
"I want to call my sister," I said, reaching for the hospital phone. "I need someone here. Please."
Legend intercepted my hand. "Your sister is worried about your mental state, Aliana. Everyone is. I've explained how unstable you've become—burning down our home, making threats against Kyla, now this emotional outburst."
"That's not true," I protested. "I never threatened Kyla!"
"That's not what your text messages show," he replied coldly. "The ones you deleted, but I recovered. The police found them very concerning."
Realization dawned like ice water in my veins. He'd been planning this—systematically cutting me off, creating a narrative of instability. My phone, my emails, my friends... he controlled it all.
"No one is coming to save you, Aliana," Legend said quietly, his voice almost gentle now. "The sooner you understand that, the better off we'll all be."
As he walked out, leaving me alone with my grief and pain, I stared at the ceiling and made a silent promise to myself and my lost child. Somehow, someday, I would escape this nightmare. And when I did, Legend Evans would pay for everything he had taken from me.
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