The lights in the hospital were too bright.
They pierced my closed eyelids, turning the dark into a bright white haze that wouldn't go away. The air smelled sharp and clean, and it made your throat hurt. It reminded you that your home was a place where things went wrong before they went right, if they ever did.
"Miss? Could you please hear me?"
It was a woman's voice. Calm. Businesslike.
I made my eyelids open.
The ceiling swam above me, and the edges were blurry. My eyes had a hard time catching up. A light curtain hung to my left. A machine kept beeping close to my head.
I nodded in a vague way.
"You lost a significant amount of blood," the doctor stated, holding the chart in her palm. "You were brought in at the right time."
Right on time.
The phrase echoed strangely in my head.
My lips were dry. It felt like I had swallowed glass, and my throat was tight. "The baby?" I asked.
The doctor stopped.
It only took a second, but it was enough to make my spine tingle.
"For now, the fetus is stable," she said softly. "But this was a threatened miscarriage." You're under a lot of mental and physical stress right now. We might not be able to protect the pregnancy if we get another shock like this.
Another shock.
I looked at her and let the words sink in slowly.
Another shock meant facing the truth.
Another shock hit Lucien Drake.
He was a shock incarnate.
The doctor went on, "You need to rest." "Don't worry. No fighting. No stress from emotions. " Stay away from anyone or anything that could make you frustrated."
Trigger.
I almost smiled.
If only it were that easy.
When she left, the room was quiet again, except for the monitor next to me that kept beeping. I lay still, afraid that even deep breathing would hurt the life inside me.
My hands moved on their own and rested protectively on my lower abdomen.
I stayed like that for a long time.
My phone buzzed on the table next to my bed.
I didn't grab it right away.
I already knew what it was going to say.
Still, after a moment, I turned my head to look at the screen.
Lucien Drake sent $50,000,000.
That was it.
There is no message.
There is no question.
Don't worry.
It's only money.
I stared at the computer, hoping for something else to show up, like a delayed text or a sign that he had asked about how I was doing.
Nothing came.
I flipped the phone over.
The monitor beeped all the time, without caring.
The city had already learned by the time the sun rose.
I didn't need to check social media or news sites to be certain. The looks on the nurses' faces when they thought I wasn't paying attention were proof. I could hear the quiet sounds that followed me down the hall. In the interest that lasted a little too long.
"That's her."
"The one from last night."
"At the banquet, Drake divorced her."
People were having fun with Lucien Drake's divorce.
I looked out the window of my hospital room and saw the city move as if nothing had happened. There were cars that went by. People rushed down the paths. People were going about their business as usual, signing deals and having meetings.
Mine had already been taken down.
When the nurse told me I could go home that afternoon, I felt both happy and scared. I would rather not stay here, but I also didn't want to go.
A black car that looked familiar was parked on the street outside the hospital.
The entrance had a faint glow from the Drake family crest.
For one scary second, my heart lied to me.
I thought he had come on his own.
Thereafter, the driver got out.
"Mrs.—Miss," he said easily, handing me a wrapped package. "Mr. Drake asked me to bring this."
That was it.
No looking in the eyes.
No pity.
I carefully opened the envelope.
There was only one piece of paper inside.
Notice to Leave the Property
I was asked to leave the Drake house right away. I had already packed my things, and they will be sent to the temporary address at the bottom.
No signature.
There is no explanation.
No personal message.
I closed my fingers around the page.
So, the house was never mine either.
When I got back, the mansion seemed colder.
The temperature hadn't changed; it was the people inside who had.
The staff would rather not pretend anymore.
"Your things are upstairs," one of them replied curtly. "We've already put everything in boxes."
No hellos.
No politeness.
I walked slowly down the hallways, and the sound of my footsteps on the clean marble floors echoed. I finally understood how cold everything seemed. How the space had never really made me feel welcome.
There were portraits of Drake's ancestors on the walls. The men and women in the portraits looked down sternly, as if they were daring anyone to fail them. The family motto was carved into dark wood above the stairs.
Strength beats feelings.
It fit perfectly.
I carefully put my things in the bedroom into boxes that matched. There was nothing in my closet. Lucien's place looked clean and beautiful, like I had never been there.
I took the framed picture off the nightstand.
The day of our wedding.
Lucien stood next to me, tall and calm, with a blank look on his face. I remember telling myself that it was just nerves. Later, the warmth would come.
I carefully put the frame in a box with the face down.
There were footsteps behind me.
Lucien walked into the room.
He said, "You're still here."
"I was in the hospital," I said softly.
He thought about it for a moment and then nodded once, as if that made everything clear.
He told me, "I've made arrangements for your stay." "The document has the address."
I looked at him.
I asked, "Did you ever plan to stay married?"
His forehead was slightly wrinkled, but not because he felt guilty.
He said to me, "This marriage served its purpose." "There's no need to make things more difficult now."
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
He said plainly, "You needed money." "I wanted stability during the talks, and I believed we both would benefit from it."
I smiled a little.
"Why does it feel like I'm the only one paying for it, then?"
There was a long silence between us.
First, Lucien looked away.
He said, "I don't like talking about my feelings." "It's done." Don't take too long.
"I won't," I said.
He stopped and said, "Please call my assistant if you need anything."
Not him.
Not him.
I picked up my bag and walked past him.
He didn't stop me.
The ride in the cab from the Drake estate was calm.
As the iron gates closed behind me, something in my chest let go of a tightness, like a knot finally coming undone.
I put my hand on my stomach.
I said, "I'm sorry." "I couldn't keep you safe any better."
The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, worry crossed his face, but he didn't say anything.
I stayed in a small hotel on the edge of the city that night.
The room was clean, but it didn't feel like home. The bed is firm. The silence is too much.
I didn't get any sleep.
I saw blood on the bathroom floor every time I closed my eyes. I heard laughter echoing through a beautiful hall. I could feel the cold weight of Lucien's lack of interest sink deeper into my bones.
My phone vibrated right before morning.
A number I don't know.
Do you really think you can hide his child forever?
My fingers got cold.
Another message came rapidly.
Some mistakes are hard to forget.
The sky outside began to lighten, but it was pale and cruel.
Fear crept in slowly, cold and sharp, wrapping around my chest.
Because someone knew.
The person in question would not stay quiet.