Chapter 1

At my husband’s birthday party, he kicked me so hard I lost our baby.

My own brother stood by, eyes cold, and spat, “You deserved it!”

Later they framed me and had me thrown in prison.

Three years behind bars—my child gone, my womb taken, even my last kidney beaten until it failed.

The day I was released, they knelt in front of me and begged me to come home.

But I no longer have a home—only a body on the brink of collapse and a heart colder than hell.

This time—it’s their turn to have nowhere to run.

……

The champagne flutes sparkled under the crystal chandelier, but all I could see was Vivienne's perfectly manicured hand pressed against her cheek.

"She hit me!" Vivienne's voice cracked with theatrical precision. "Aria actually slapped me!"

My seven-month pregnant belly felt like lead as every eye in the ballroom turned toward me.

"I didn't—" I started, but Damien was already moving.

"Don't lie!" His face twisted with rage I'd never seen before. "Everyone saw you!"

"Damien, please, the baby—"

His foot connected with my stomach before I could finish.

The pain exploded through my abdomen like shattered glass.

I crumpled to the marble floor, my hands instinctively wrapping around my belly. "The baby! Damien, please, the baby!"

Another kick landed on my side, then another.

"You made Vivienne lose her baby!" Damien's voice seemed to come from underwater. "You don't deserve yours!"

Warm liquid pooled beneath me, soaking through my silver dress.

Blood.

So much blood.

"Help me," I whispered, reaching toward the crowd of frozen faces. "Someone please..."

Damien grabbed Vivienne's hand, his eyes cold as winter steel. "Let's go. She's just being dramatic."

"Wait!" I screamed, my vision blurring. "Don't leave me!"

The ballroom doors slammed shut.

Snow drifted through the open terrace doors, landing on my face like frozen tears.

My phone was somewhere in my clutch, somewhere I couldn't reach.

The chandeliers above began to dim, or maybe that was just me.

The baby. Please, God, save my baby.

My fingers clawed at the marble, leaving red streaks.

The music had stopped, but I could still hear Vivienne's laugh echoing in my ears.

Everything felt cold.

So cold.

The chandeliers above blurred into stars.

Someone was screaming, but the sound felt distant, muffled.

Was that me?

"Call an ambulance!" a voice shouted from somewhere far away.

But Damien was already gone.

I tried to move, to crawl toward the doors, but my body wouldn't respond.

The silver dress—the one I'd spent weeks choosing, the one Damien said made me look beautiful—was ruined now.

Red bloomed across the fabric like roses.

My baby.

My little boy.

We were going to name him Ethan.

Damien and I had painted the nursery pale blue just last month, his hands covering mine on the roller, his lips pressed against my temple.

"Our son," he'd whispered. "Our perfect little family."

When had everything gone so wrong?

When had my husband's eyes turned cold?

When had his love become violence?

A face appeared above me—one of the waiters, his expression terrified.

"Stay with me, ma'am. Help is coming."

But I could feel myself slipping.

The pain was fading now, replaced by numbness.

Maybe that was worse.

I thought about my parents, dead for twenty years, and wondered if I'd see them soon.

Would they be disappointed in the choices I'd made?

Would they understand why I'd loved a man who could do this?

"Damien..." I whispered one last time, even though he couldn't hear me.

Even though he'd left me here to die.

The waiter's face faded.

The cold marble beneath me disappeared.

Everything disappeared.

And in that final moment of consciousness, I realized something that broke me more than any kick ever could: I still loved him.

Even now.

Even after everything.

I still loved the man who was killing me.

The darkness swallowed that thought along with everything else.