"More pillows, Maria. My back is killing me."

Chloe's voice echoed from the living room the second I unlocked the front door.

I pushed the heavy oak panel open and stepped into the foyer.

My mother-in-law, Beatrice, sat on the velvet sofa. She held a porcelain bowl, carefully spoon-feeding chicken broth to the woman who had destroyed my marriage.

"Drink up, darling," Beatrice cooed, wiping Chloe’s chin with a napkin. "My grandson needs his nourishment."

"What is going on here?" I asked.

Beatrice didn't even flinch. She kept her eyes on the bowl.

Chloe smiled, leaning back against the cushions. "Sophia. You're out early. Ethan said you needed a few more days of bed rest."

"This is my house," I said, dropping my keys onto the console table.

"Actually, it's Ethan's house," Beatrice corrected. She finally looked at me, her expression sour. "And Chloe is carrying the Miller heir. She needs a stress-free environment."

"I'm his wife. I'm pregnant too."

Beatrice scoffed. "A clump of cells, Ethan told me. And who knows if it's even his?"

My hands balled into fists. "Excuse me?"

"You heard her," Chloe chimed in, resting a protective hand over her swollen belly. "Ethan told us how you suddenly produced a lab report right after he asked for a divorce. It’s pathetic, Soph."

"I didn't fake anything," I shot back. "And you are leaving. Now."

"She stays," a deep voice interrupted.

I spun around. Ethan stood in the doorway of his home office, a file folder in his hand. He didn't look guilty. He looked entirely inconvenienced.

"Ethan, tell her to pack her bags," I demanded.

"No." He walked over to the sofa and kissed the top of Chloe’s head. "Chloe stays. Her apartment has black mold, and she’s halfway through a high-risk pregnancy. She needs proper care."

"She needs to get out of my home!"

"Keep your voice down," Ethan snapped. "My mother is right. This house is in my name. If you can't handle Chloe being here, you know where the door is."

The sheer audacity paralyzed me.

"Dinner is served," Maria called out from the dining room, keeping her head bowed. The maid refused to meet my gaze.

Ethan offered Chloe his hand, helping her up from the sofa. "Come on, babe. You need to eat."

They walked past me, leaving me standing alone in the foyer.

I followed them into the dining room. I refused to be chased out of my own life.

We sat at the mahogany table. Maria served roasted lamb and vegetables. The clinking of silverware filled the tense silence.

"The nursery needs to be repainted," Chloe announced, cutting into her meat. "That pastel yellow is awful. I want a rich navy blue. For our boy."

"Whatever you want," Ethan said, pouring her a glass of sparkling water.

"Our boy," Chloe repeated, staring directly at me. "The future CEO. It's so important for a son to inherit the legacy. Don't you agree, Sophia?"

I ignored her, staring at my plate.

Chloe didn't stop. "A little girl, or a... complication... wouldn't get a dime. Only the true heir matters."

I slammed my fork down. The silver clattered violently against the china.

"Shut your mouth, Chloe."

"Sophia, stop it," Ethan warned.

"She is sitting at my table, eating from my plates, and threatening my child!" I yelled.

"She's stating facts," Ethan fired back. "My son gets the company. That was always the deal with my father. You're being completely unreasonable."

"Unreasonable? I almost lost my baby yesterday because you shoved me into a metal rail!"

"You tripped," he said coldly. "And if you can't behave, you can eat in the guest bedroom."

"Guest bedroom?" I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You're moving me out of the master suite?"

"Chloe needs the space," Beatrice interjected, sipping her wine. "Her back hurts."

I pushed my chair back and stood up. "You are all sick. Every single one of you."

I turned and walked out of the dining room.

Thunder rattled the windows at midnight. I couldn't sleep. The guest bed felt like a slab of concrete. The air in the house was suffocating, thick with the scent of Chloe’s sickeningly sweet perfume.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The sliding glass door leading to the back patio stood slightly ajar. A cool breeze drifted in, smelling of impending rain.

I stepped outside onto the concrete to catch a breath of fresh air.

*Click.*

I spun around. The heavy glass door was shut.

Chloe stood on the other side, her hand resting on the lock. She wore my silk robe.

"Chloe, open the door," I demanded, my voice muffled by the thick glass.

She smiled, a wicked, triumphant grin. She raised a glass of warm milk to her lips, took a sip, and mouthed the words: *Goodbye, Sophia.*

She turned off the patio lights and walked away.

A drop of water hit my cheek. Then another.

Within seconds, the sky ripped open. Freezing rain pounded against my thin pajamas.

I banged my fists against the glass. "Ethan! Maria! Help!"

The wind howled, drowning out my screams. The temperature plummeted instantly.

I ran to the side gate, but a heavy padlock secured the iron bars. Ethan had locked it yesterday.

"Help!" I screamed again, pounding on the living room windows.

The house remained completely dark. No one came.

My teeth chattered. My head spun. The doctor's warning echoed in my ears. *One more shock... you will lose this child.*

A sharp cramp seized my lower abdomen.

I hugged my stomach, sinking to the wet, freezing concrete. The rain lashed against my back.

"Please," I whimpered into the storm. "Not my baby."

The world tilted. The cold seeped into my bones, dragging me down into total darkness.

"Sophia."

A warm hand pressed against my cheek.

I opened my eyes. The sterile white ceiling of the hospital greeted me again. The steady beep of a heart monitor filled the quiet room.

Damien leaned over the bed.

His dark hair was completely soaked, plastered to his forehead. Water dripped from his black trench coat onto the linoleum floor.

"Damien?" My throat burned.

"You're safe," he said, his voice tight. "Your fever broke an hour ago."

I panicked, grabbing my stomach. "My baby?"

"Holding on," he promised, his jaw clenching. "Barely."

"How did you find me?"

"I drove to the villa to drop off the legal files. I found you passed out in the mud by the patio." A muscle ticked in his cheek. "Ethan didn't even know you were outside."

"She locked me out," I whispered. "Chloe."

Damien pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. He didn't break eye contact.

"I stayed all night," he said. "I watched your fever spike. I watched the doctors fight for three hours to keep your child alive."

"Thank you."

"I don't want your thanks, Sophia." He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "I want your permission."

"Permission for what?"

He reached into his wet coat pocket and pulled out his phone.

"To ruin them. Right now."

He tapped the screen and turned it toward me.

"Give me the word," Damien murmured, "and Ethan loses everything by morning."