I wanted to scream, to fight back, but I was too tired. My father stormed out, ordering the guards to lock the door again.
Hours passed before Nathan returned. His face was blank, but his eyes—those eyes I once thought were kind—were dark with contempt.
“I want a divorce,” I said, my voice steady even as my hands shook.
Nathan laughed under his breath. “No,” he said simply. “You’re not getting a divorce. You’re going to suffer—as much as I want you to suffer.”
I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “Why are you doing this to me? Haven’t you done enough?”
He stepped closer until I could feel his breath. “You said your stepsister is my mistress, right?” he said quietly, a dangerous smirk curling on his lips. “Well, you’re right.”
Before I could react, the door opened—and Amber walked in. Nathan turned toward her, his eyes softening in a way they never did for me. Then, right in front of me, he pulled her close and kissed her.
It wasn’t a moment of guilt or hesitation—it was deliberate, cruel, a declaration.
Amber smiled against his lips, then turned to me with triumph flashing in her eyes. “You’re such a loser, Emerald,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “A pathetic little bitch who thought she could win.”
They both laughed, the sound slicing through me like a blade.
When I opened my eyes, the world was white. The steady beep of the monitor beside me echoed faintly in my ears. My whole body ached, as though I’d been crushed and stitched back together. The ceiling light blurred, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the air.
“Emerald.”
My mother’s voice broke softly through the fog. She was sitting beside me, her eyes swollen and tired. “Don’t move yet. Just rest for now.”
I tried to speak, but my throat burned. “Mom… what happened?”
She reached for my hand, holding it gently. I felt her tremble before I even saw the tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The baby… you lost it.”
The words sank in slowly, like stones in water. My breath caught; my heart clenched, but no sound came out. I stared at her, hoping she’d take it back, that maybe she meant something else.
But her eyes said everything. The baby—my last small hope—was gone.