Chapter 2 Death Sentence

He grabbed his phone quickly, his face flushing as he glanced at the screen then back at me.

“It’s just boring work stuff, conference venue logistics for the Paris trip.”

I nodded slowly. “Oh, I understand.”

He studied my face for a moment longer before kissing my forehead again. “I need to make a quick call about this, I’ll be right back.”

I watched him leave the bedroom and heard his footsteps going downstairs, then the sound of the patio door sliding open.

Through the air vent I could hear his voice clearly.

“Vivian, she almost saw your text message, I told her it was about the conference and she believed me like always, you need to be more careful with what you send when I’m with her.”

There was a pause.

“No, she’s too trusting, she never questions anything I say, that’s what makes this so easy.”

Another pause.

“I know, just five more days until Paris and then we never have to hide again, I promise you Vivian, you’re the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted to marry.”

I sat on the edge of the bed listening to every word, my hands clenched in my lap.

Damian came back upstairs a few minutes later with a smile on his face. “Sorry about that, work emergencies never stop, but I promised you I’d always be your safe haven, the one person you could always count on no matter what happened, that I would take care of you for the rest of our lives.”

I believed those words once, I gave him everything I had, when he suggested we keep our marriage private I didn’t question it, he explained that revealing our relationship too early could complicate some business deals his family was negotiating.

Every time I got pregnant Damian seemed genuinely excited, he would make plans for the nursery and research the best pediatricians in the city.

When complications arose and I needed medical procedures, he insisted on paying extra for the best pain management available and would clear his schedule to be there when I woke up.

I thought it proved how much he cared, I thought it showed he wanted our babies as much as I did, but now I understood he just needed me sedated and compliant so he could hand over what Vivian required for her experiments.

I blamed myself for years, convinced my body was defective, sobbing apologies to him after each loss while he comforted me, the whole thing makes me sick now.

That evening when we got home I told Damian I had a terrible headache and needed to lie down, while he was in the living room watching television I took my laptop into the bathroom and locked the door.

I researched clinics that performed procedures without requiring spousal notification and found one across state lines, I scheduled an appointment for two days from now and used my emergency credit card to book a bus ticket for the day he was supposed to leave for Paris.

Around ten that night Damian knocked on the bedroom door where I was pretending to sleep.

“Aria, I need to tell you something, I have an important international conference in Paris starting in five days, I’ll be gone for about six weeks handling some deals.”

Six weeks for a wedding and honeymoon obviously, I sat up slowly. “Damian, I’ve been feeling really off lately, dizzy and nauseous, could you possibly skip this trip and stay with me.”

His jaw tightened and annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Aria, you know I’ve been working toward this partnership for two years, I can’t just abandon it because you’re feeling under the weather, take some vitamins and rest, I’ll call you every night from Paris.”

The last bit of hope I had been clinging to evaporated, I nodded without looking at him. “Okay, sorry I asked.”

Damian’s mood improved immediately and he sat on the bed, running his hand down my arm as he leaned closer.

“Aria, your hormone panels from last month looked really good, the doctor said you’re healthy enough to try again, let’s make another baby tonight, I can’t wait to be a father.”

The audacity of it was almost funny, I shifted away from him. “I don’t think tonight is good, I read an article that said conception rates are lower when the woman is stressed or anxious, maybe we should wait until I’m feeling better.”

Damian knew I researched everything obsessively when it came to pregnancy so he accepted this excuse, he kissed my forehead and went back to the living room.

I waited until I heard him on a work call before getting out of bed, his briefcase was sitting on the dresser and something made me open it, underneath some folders I found a tablet I had never seen before.

My pulse quickened as I turned it on, the home screen displayed a photo of Damian with his arm around Vivian at what looked like a ski resort, I guessed his password on the second try, it was Vivian’s birthday combined with their college graduation year.

I opened his email application and started reading, the first message I clicked on had an attachment, a clinical photograph that I recognized immediately, one of my miscarried babies.

Damian had written to Vivian:

[Sample is packaged and being sent to your laboratory via overnight courier, extraction was performed three hours ago so viability should be optimal.]

My stomach turned as I continued reading.

[You’ve already used all of the previous samples, not a problem, Aria is pregnant again, I’ll arrange for the termination in about eight weeks, you’ll have new material by mid-September, your work is so important and I’m honored to support it however I can.]

Another email:

[Vivian I miss you, when does your fellowship end, I’m keeping my life on hold until you’re ready to come back permanently, Aria is just a temporary situation that serves a practical purpose.]

I pressed my hand against my stomach feeling waves of nausea, this pregnancy was a death sentence.

I opened the tablet’s photo storage and found albums organized by year, hundreds of images of Damian and Vivian together going back to what looked like high school, prom photos, college parties, beach vacations, fancy restaurants, each album had captions like “My Everything” or “Soulmates” or “Forever Mine.”

Seven years I had been married to him and he had spent most of that time traveling to visit her.

I found a notes application and opened it, inside were dozens of documents all related to wedding planning, detailed budgets for venues in Paris, lists of guests with their dietary restrictions, sketches of floral arrangements, appointments with jewelers for custom rings, every element personally researched and chosen by Damian for his real wedding to Vivian.

I opened the most recent document titled Final Wedding Budget.

The total at the bottom made me gasp out loud.

Twelve million dollars.

The same amount Damian told me two months ago we couldn’t afford when I asked if we could finally buy a house instead of renting.

Suddenly footsteps sounded right outside the bedroom door.

Before I could react, the door opened wide.