Chapter 2

In the dead of night, the searing, tearing agony of my water breaking hit without warning.

I clamped my teeth down hard on the corner of the duvet.

Once the first wave of brutal contractions subsided, I gripped the edge of the bed and pushed myself up.

I didn't bother calling out to Carter on the other side of the door. Instead, I picked up the landline and dialed 911.

Grabbing the hospital bag I had packed weeks ago, I braced against the wall, taking one agonizing step after another out of the room.

The living room reeked of spilled alcohol.

Carter was passed out cold on the rug.

Clutched tightly in his limp hand were the crushed remnants of my phone.

Outside the villa, the siren wailed as flashing red and blue lights illuminated the living room windows, washing across his sleeping face.

He merely turned over with a disgruntled groan, mumbling drunkenly:

"Chloe... stop teasing..."

I pulled my eyes away and walked out the front door without a backward glance.

At the hospital triage desk, the intake nurse gave me a bewildered, sympathetic look as I stood there completely alone.

"Where’s your family, ma’am? Why are you carrying your bags by yourself in labor?"

"He’s dead," I replied evenly, signing my name on the consent forms.

The nurse paused, asking nothing more, though the pity in her eyes deepened.

I lay in the delivery suite alone, enduring the crushing torture of active labor.

With every contraction, it felt as though a serrated saw was dragging across my lower back and pelvis.

Suddenly, the room door was pushed open.

Chloe stood there, draped in an oversized men’s dress shirt.

I recognized it immediately—it was Carter’s favorite custom designer shirt.

Across her exposed collarbone were fresh, undeniable love bites.

Chloe held up her phone, which was on an active call. Carter’s name was glowing brightly on the screen.

"Hey Nina, heard your water broke?" She looked down at me, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

I gripped the bedsheets with white knuckles, unwilling to waste a shred of breath on her.

Chloe shoved the phone right in front of my face and deliberately tapped the speaker icon.

Carter’s slurred, sleep-heavy voice filtered through the line.

"Chloe... who the hell are you calling in the middle of the night..."

"Carter, sweetie, it sounds like Nina’s at the hospital giving birth. Shouldn't you come see her?" Chloe cooed, her tone dripping with sweet malice.

A beat of silence hung over the line, followed by a cold, irritated scoff.

"Ignore that crazy bitch. She’s just using labor pains to beg for my attention."

"Let her push. Once she’s done, she can crawl back home and apologize on her own knees!"

Another vicious contraction ripped through my abdomen.

I bit into my lower lip until it bled, refusing to let out a single whimper.

Chloe hung up the call, her grin widening smugly.

"Did you hear that, Nina? Carter says he’s sick and tired of your pathetic, lifeless face."

"Seriously, what’s the point of clinging to that wedding ring? You can't even get your husband to show up when you're giving birth."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, flashing the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist.

"Carter bought this for me at the hotel boutique last night. Gorgeous, isn't it?"

I looked her dead in the eye.

Then, I reached up and hit the red emergency call button by the headboard.

"Bed three, what's the emergency?" A nurse rushed in within seconds.

"I don't know who this woman is. She’s trespassing and harassing a laboring patient. Get her out."

The nurse’s brow furrowed, and she immediately radioed hospital security.

"What do you think you’re doing?! I’m Hayes Enterprises' executive assistant! Don't you dare touch me!" Chloe shrieked.

The security guards ignored her flailing and dragged her out by her arms.

Her venomous curses echoed down the corridor:

"Nina, you deserve to be thrown away like trash!"

The medical team wheeled my gurney toward the delivery room.

I shut my eyes, my mind helplessly replaying a memory from five years ago.

Back then, Carter had carried me on his back through a torrential downpour all the way to the emergency room.

He had wept outside the trauma bay, swearing to the heavens that he would never let a single tear fall from my eyes for the rest of our lives.

*Waaaah—*

With a sharp, piercing newborn cry, I opened my eyes.

In that exact second, the very last ember of hope I harbored for Carter Hayes was extinguished forever.

The boy who carried me through the rain had died a long time ago, buried under the rot of time.