Chapter 2 - The Fall and the Floor
The world spun out of control.
My hip hit the sharp edge of the marble console table first, a excruciating jolt of pain firing up my spine. Then I tumbled onto the cold floor, landing heavily on my side.
A terrible, breathless gasp tore from my throat as my abdomen struck the hard hardwood.
For a second, there was no sound—only the high-pitched ringing in my ears and the blinding white light of agony radiating from my stomach.
"Daniel..." I wheezed, my hand instinctively dropping to cover my belly. "Daniel, the baby..."
Above me, Daniel stood looking down, his face entirely devoid of emotion. He didn't kneel. He didn't reach out his hand. He simply adjusted the cuffs of his dark blue jacket, his eyes cold and empty.
"Look what you made me do," Daniel said softly, his voice devoid of a single drop of remorse. "You just had to throw a tantrum, didn't you?"
Beside him, Margaret looked down at me, her hands folded neatly in front of her robe as if she were inspecting a piece of trash that had blown onto her porch.
"She fell because she was reckless," Margaret said smoothly, setting the narrative before the blood had even cleared from the room. "She tripped over her own feet. You didn't touch her, Daniel. I saw the whole thing. She slipped."
"Yes," Daniel agreed, taking a deep breath and looking at his mother. "She slipped. She’s been so clumsy lately."
"The baby..." I sobbed, a sharp, terrible contraction seizing my lower abdomen, dragging a scream from my throat. "Call... call an ambulance! Daniel, please!"
"Call an ambulance?" Margaret sniffed. "And have the neighbors watching? Have paramedics spreading rumors through the district? Absolutely not. We'll take her to the private wing at St. Jude's. Dr. Harrison is on our payroll there. He knows how to keep things quiet."
"No!" I cried out, terror gripping me tighter than the physical pain. "Not Dr. Harrison! Call 911!"
Dr. Harrison was Margaret’s personal friend, the chief of obstetrics at the private clinic where Daniel’s family held major board seats. If I went there under their control, I would have no voice.
I scrambled on my knees, trying to reach my purse on the table above me.
Daniel stepped on my hand.
His leather shoe pressed down against my knuckles, pinioned against the floorboards. Not enough to break bones, but enough to hold me completely immobile.
"You're going to St. Jude's, Emily," Daniel whispered, leaning down so close I could smell the lingering scent of red wine on his breath. "And you're going to tell them you fell down the stairs because you were dizzy. If you say anything else... if you utter a single word about Jessica, or about my mother, or about this receipt..."
He leaned closer, his fingers gripping my jaw so tightly my teeth bruised the inside of my mouth.
"...I will have you declared mentally unfit. I have two psychiatrists ready to sign the evaluation papers based on your 'severe prenatal depression' logs I’ve been keeping for three months. You won't just lose this house, Emily. You will lose the baby before you ever get to hold it."
Horror, pure and paralyzing, drowned out the physical agony.
He had been planning this.
The logs. The psychiatric evaluations. The refinancing papers. This wasn't a sudden escalation of a fight over a receipt. This was a calculated, months-long execution of my complete destruction.
"Please..." I whispered, tears streaming down my face, dripping onto his shoe. "Daniel... please don't do this..."
"Get her up," Margaret ordered, pulling her robe tighter around herself. "Put her in the back of the SUV. I'll call Jessica and tell her to clear Daniel's calendar for tomorrow."
Daniel lifted his shoe from my hand. He grabbed me under my armpits, violently hauling my heavy, trembling body to my feet. Every movement sent sharp spikes of agony tearing through my pelvis, but I forced myself not to scream again. I had to save my strength. I had to survive the ride.
He dragged me out the front door into the freezing rainy night.
The cold water hit my face, shocking my senses back into sharp focus. As Daniel shoved me into the back seat of his luxury SUV, slamming the heavy leather door shut, I looked back at the house through the rain-streaked window.
Margaret stood on the porch, watching us leave with a serene, terrifying smile on her face.
May you like
I pressed my hand against my lower belly, feeling the faint, weak flutter of my unborn child against my palm.
Hang on, I prayed silently into the dark, cold interior of the moving vehicle. Please, little one, just hang on. I will get us out of here. I promise you, I will make them pay for every second of this.
