Chapter 2

Kathy's POV

The next morning, I slipped out of the mansion and bought a pregnancy test from the pharmacy.

Two bright red lines stared back at me.

I clutched that plastic stick, my heart soaring as if Damian had already changed his mind.

When I returned home, the living room was in chaos.

Susan's suitcases lay open in the foyer while two maids carried my clothes out of the master bedroom's walk-in closet, stuffing them carelessly into garbage bags.

Trina sat slouched on the couch cracking sunflower seeds, the television volume deafeningly loud.

"Oh, look who decided to come back," she said without even lifting her eyes. "Why didn't you just die out there and save Damian the trouble of kicking you out?"

I walked through the living room toward the study.

Damian was on a phone call, his tone cheerful. "Yes, that shipment is fine. We'll sign the contract next week... Mm, Susan's coming too."

I stood in the doorway, waiting for him to hang up.

"Damian," my voice trembled, "I'm pregnant."

He turned around.

His gaze lingered on my face for a second. Then a derisive laugh rolled from his throat.

"Kathy," he set down his phone, "you're getting more pathetic by the day."

"It's true," I held out the pregnancy test, "look."

He swatted it away.

The test clattered onto the carpet and rolled under his desk.

"You think you can tie me down with a baby?" He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "Who knows whose bastard that is? You've been running around plenty lately, haven't you?"

"Damian!" Susan's voice cut in.

She rushed into the study and threw herself into his arms, her shoulders trembling. "What did she say? A baby? Damian, I'm so scared... is she trying to use a child to get rid of me?"

"Nonsense!" Trina's shriek exploded in my ears.

Before I could turn around, a vicious slap struck my left cheek.

My ears rang. I staggered against the wall as my lower abdomen clenched sharply.

Nausea surged up my throat. I lunged for the wastebasket in the corner, retching violently as stomach acid mixed with blood seeped from the corners of my mouth.

"Acting! Still acting!" Trina grabbed my hair. "Cursed woman! Think you can have Damian's child? Not a chance!"

Damian pulled her away and grabbed my arm roughly.

"Listen," he lowered his voice, each word like a blade, "two choices. One, get rid of it and take the money. Two, if you won't leave, fine—stay here and serve Susan and me."

I looked up at him. "The baby is yours."

"I don't believe that," he released me, "choose."

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. "I'll stay."

From that day forward, my movements were restricted to the third-floor guest room and the first-floor kitchen.

At noon, I went into the kitchen to make porridge.

"Let me help you," Susan said, reaching for the pot lid.

Her wrist twisted.

The entire pot of boiling white porridge tipped over, splashing across the back of my hand.

Searing pain exploded. I screamed and jerked my hand back.

Blisters formed before my eyes.

"Oh my," Susan covered her mouth, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. This pot is so slippery."

Damian came into the kitchen at the sound, glancing at my red, swollen hand.

"Useless," he frowned, "wasting food."

"Damian, my hand hurts," my voice shook, "could you call a doctor..."

"Call what?" Trina burst in. "What are you whining about now? When I gave birth to Damian, I wasn't nearly as dramatic as you!"

"Keep carrying on and you won't eat tonight."

Late that night, I sat on the concrete floor of the guest room balcony.

My left hand was wrapped in strips torn from an old T-shirt. The blisters had burst, and the seeping fluid had dried the fabric to my skin.

My right hand rested gently on my lower abdomen.

It was slightly rounded, still soft. But there was a heartbeat there, connected to mine.

Did I still love Damian?

I didn't know. But I remembered the way he first kissed me in the back of a taxi on a New York winter night, fumbling to brush the snowflakes from my eyelashes.

But what if? What if when the baby was born and he saw that little face, would his heart soften? Would he remember that we'd once had happy times together?

Above the balcony, the master bedroom window was open.

The wind carried Susan's hushed laughter, followed by Damian's voice: "Don't worry, sweetheart. Soon."

I froze, then quietly stood up and pressed myself against the wall, craning my neck upward.

"That baby has to go," Susan said. "If she keeps it, it'll be a ticking time bomb. Don't worry, I know people. The medication is very safe—it'll look just like a natural miscarriage..."

My blood turned to ice.

I stepped back and my foot caught on a dry branch.

The next second, the balcony door was violently shoved open. Susan charged out. "You were eavesdropping?"

"I wasn't—"

She didn't listen, shoving both hands hard against my chest.

I tumbled backward.

My vision spun. My back hit the edge of the steps, then my waist, finally my head. I rolled down three steps and crashed heavily onto the balcony's tile floor.

Agony exploded from my lower abdomen and quickly spread through my entire body.

Warm liquid gushed between my legs.

I curled up, my fingers desperately pressing against my stomach, only to feel sticky wetness.

"Ah... help me..." I called hoarsely.

Footsteps thundered toward me.

Damian and Trina rushed onto the balcony.

"What happened?" Damian asked.

"She—she suddenly rushed at me to hit me," Susan threw herself into his arms, her voice tearful. "I was so scared, I pushed her instinctively. Is she trying to frame me?"

Trina crouched down and lifted the hem of my nightgown.

She looked for a moment, then frowned. "She's bleeding."

"Serves her right," Damian's voice came from above. "Can't even stand properly and still tries to hurt people?"

Pain consumed my rationality. I reached out to grab his pants leg. "The baby, save the baby, please."

He kicked my hand away.

"Damian," Susan suddenly leaned softly against his shoulder, covering her own abdomen, "my stomach hurts a little too. She scared me."

"What?" Damian spun around abruptly. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know, it just hurts a little," her eyes reddened, "my period is several days late too. Could it be...?"

Pure joy burst across Damian's face.

He scooped Susan up in his arms without even glancing at me. "Mom, call the doctor! Hurry!"

Trina quickly stood up. "Yes, yes, I'll call right now! Susan, don't worry!"

"What about her?" Susan nestled in Damian's arms, pointing at me.

Damian's steps paused for one second.

"Drag her to the guest room," his voice was ice cold. "Don't let her die here—it's bad luck."