A sharp pressure pressed into my chest—confusion first, then disbelief, then something sour and burning that I couldn’t name.
“How?” I demanded hoarsely, more to myself than to Amber. “How could she be pregnant and I didn’t see it? I lived with her. I slept beside her. I—”
The words tangled in my throat. “How is that possible?”
My hand unconsciously pressed to my forehead. “Why didn’t the doctors tell me? Why didn’t anyone—”
Amber’s voice softened. “You weren’t at the hospital, Nat… you never stayed. You always left before the doctors could update you.”
Her words struck deeper than I expected, twisting something inside me.
I didn’t know. Because I wasn’t there.
My mind reeled—images clashing together:
Emerald clutching her stomach the night I hit her.
Her pale face in the hospital bed.
Her trembling hands.
Her silence.
And then—
The baby she lost. A baby I never knew existed.
My throat tightened painfully. “She… she lost it?” I whispered. “She lost… my child?”
I didn’t know what to do until the elevator dinged open. But neither of us moved. I felt something cold settle into my bones—something heavy and choking and wrong.
My pulse hammered in my ears.
Before I could speak, footsteps rushed toward us. Mr. Santos appeared—pale, sweating, out of breath.
“Sir! Miss Amber!” he gasped. “There’s another problem!”
Amber snapped, “What now?!”
The butler looked ready to faint.
“It’s… it’s young Lorenzo.”
Amber froze.
My stomach dropped.
“What about my son?” she whispered.
“Lorenzo is missing,” Mr. Santos said, voice trembling. “He’s not in his hospital room. The nurses said—someone took him.”
