While William went back to being a doting partner to Grace, I quietly slipped out of the house and through the front gates. But I had barely made it out when bright headlights blinded me.

I recognized the car and shakily made my way toward it, feeling hopeful again. But before I could reach the car, two guards appeared behind me.

They grabbed me before I could scream loud enough and roughly dragged me back inside the villa.

Inside the bedroom, William pushed me face down on the bed and pinned my hands down while one of the guards held my legs in place.

Without warning, the doctor was ordered to drive a massive needle through my spine.

“No sedatives, sir?” He asked William, sounding nervous.

William didn’t even spare me a glance. “She can handle it.” He answered dismissively.

The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Goldberg, spinal fluid extraction is delicate. If done incorrectly…if she moves… it could seriously damage her nerves. She may be paralyzed.”

William’s voice was cold. “Your only job is to get good stem cells. Grace’s condition can’t wait. And if Nicole becomes paralyzed, it’ll be her own fault for moving in the first place.”

The doctor turned to me, horror in his eyes. “Madam, please… try to stay very, very still.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat was tight with rage and disbelief. My husband was willing to put my life at risk for his mistress. I turned my face away, refusing to give William even one glance.

The moment the needle touched my spine, white-hot pain bloomed through my entire body.

My legs convulsed. My jaw locked shut from the effort of not screaming and trying to stay as still as possible.

I heard the doctor whisper urgently, “Her pressure’s crashing. Her body can’t take much more.”

Then came William’s voice, calm and ruthless. “Double the extraction. Grace needs a lot more.”

The doctor looked panicked and sweaty. “Sir, she could be paralyzed. She needs a hospital.”

“I said do it. Do it right now!”

I interrupted the doctor before he could say something again. My voice came out cracked and hollow. “Fine. Take what you want. But when this is over… just let me go.”

William finally looked at me then. For a moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze.

Maybe guilt.

Maybe disgust.

More likely, disappointment.

He opened his mouth, maybe to scold me, to call me dramatic, selfish and cruel. And to ask why I would want to leave my marriage over such a small thing.

But Grace’s soft voice rang out from the master bedroom. “William…”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

___

Two days later.

I woke up in a hospital bed, my lower back aching, limbs slow and heavy.

William sat nearby, absentmindedly flipping through papers.

When he noticed I was awake, he set them down and approached with a bowl of porridge, as emotionless as a robot.

“I’ll feed you,” he said.

I turned my face away. “I’ll do it myself.”

He didn’t argue. He just watched as I forced down a few bites. He even looked relieved that he didn’t have to feed me.

Then he asked, “Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked at him and said plainly, “Please pass me my phone.”

His jaw tightened. He stared at me for a moment before gesturing to the nurse to pass it over.

When I checked the screen, I saw missed calls, too many to count.

“Who’s been calling you?” William asked suddenly, his voice too calm.

He never used to care about things like this. It triggered my annoyance.

I didn’t even blink. “It’s not someone you know.”

He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and leaned in closer, a cold edge in his eyes.

“Nicole, how long do you plan to keep acting like such a spoiled brat? I give you a little bit of freedom, and you go the extra mile.”

In the past, I’d get scared and shrink at his anger. I’d try to apologize, beg and make peace.

But not this time.

I pointed to the phone buzzing on the table. “You should answer that. It’s Grace.”

The second her name left my lips, his entire demeanor changed… shoulders softening, mouth twitching into a smile. It was almost like magic.

He didn’t say a word to me. He stood and stepped into the hallway to take her call.

The moment the door shut, my phone rang.

I answered immediately.

A voice burst through, breathless. “Nicole? You didn’t show up. Did you change your mind?”

“No… I didn’t. Something just came up.”

“Something came up? You sound really awful. No. No, this isn’t right. I’m flying back home tonight.”

“You don’t have to come. All I need is a few more days and I’ll be there.” My voice was low as I cut off the person on the phone.

By the time William returned, I was just ending the call.

He paused in the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly. I must’ve looked different… lighter somehow. There was a faint smile on my lips, one he hadn’t seen in months.

But instead of asking, he simply glanced at his watch. He had just spoken to Grace, promising he’d be home in time for her private prenatal massage.

So, he said nothing.

He assumed the call had been from my cousin—the only person from my old life I still had. He never once suspected I’d built something else in the silence he left behind.

Without meeting my eyes, he collected a file from the chair beside me. “There’s a board meeting I need to prep for. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

I nodded, even though we both knew it was a lie.

Tomorrow never came.

Instead, the only updates I received were indirect. Mutual acquaintances sent videos, photos and even headlines.

William and Grace , arriving hand-in-hand at art galas. Her laughing in his arms, him standing behind her protectively, showing her off like the ultimate prize.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I sat alone on the edge of my bed, watching the clock. No car came. No message. Not even a reminder to pick up my things.

I checked social media out of reflex and there it was—his latest post.

Nine images. All golden sunlight and perfect romance.

William and Grace, standing barefoot in a wheat field, her in a flowy white dress, his hands cradling her stomach. In one shot, he kissed her temple. In another, he knelt before her like she was some god.

My fingers hovered over the comment section. I typed without pausing.

[Wishing you both happiness. Hope the baby looks like her mother— sweet and innocent.]

I hit post and set the phone down.

Ten minutes later, it rang. William. I let it buzz until it stopped.

Thirty minutes after that, I signed my own discharge papers and walked out without a word.

As I passed the OB-GYN wing, I heard a familiar laugh.

There they were. William, seated beside Grace, his arm slung across the back of her chair. Her hand rested gently on her stomach as the nurse smiled at them from behind the desk.

“I swear, Mrs. Goldberg, your husband is a dream,” the nurse gushed. “He even asks for a heating pad so the gel won’t be cold during the ultrasound. So thoughtful.”

The women waiting nearby glanced over with admiration, envy in their eyes.

My hand drifted unconsciously to my own stomach.

There had been life there once. A heartbeat. A chance.

I remembered the hospital lights. The cold. The blood. There was so much blood.

I remembered dialing William through blurry vision, needing only to hear his voice. But Grace had been the one to pick up instead.

She had answered from the shower, grinning, with my husband all smiles behind her.

“Mrs. Goldberg,” she’d said sweetly. “I was feeling a little too hot, so William’s just helping me cool off.

I hadn’t said a word. I hung up.

Moments later, William had called back, voice sharp, holding a teary-eyed Grace in his arms like she was the one who had been wounded.

“You’re unbelievable,” he spat. “Always creating drama. Always wanting attention.” Then quieter, crueler: “You couldn’t even hold on to your child. Do you really think you deserve anything?”

And finally, words that burned like acid: “Honestly, I wish you had died instead. It would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

Now, standing there in that hallway, I turned to leave.

But William spotted me first.

“Why are you just standing there like a stray?” he snapped.

Startled, I stepped back. “I didn’t know you were here. I—I wasn’t following you.”

“Stop babbling.”

His tone cut deeper than I expected.

From beside him, Grace stood with a syrupy smile. “Mrs. Goldberg,” she said, placing a hand over her bump. “I’ve been meaning to thank you again—for the stem cells. My baby’s doing so much better now.”

She looked up at William. “Shouldn’t we offer to drop her off? She must be tired from walking around alone.”

William glanced at me, then back at her. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

The ride back was stiff and silent. As I shifted in my seat, something brushed my hand near the console. I reached down and pulled it free.

It was a deep red colored bra. Scented with a heavy floral perfume.

I didn’t say a word.

But Grace gasped dramatically.

“Oh! That must’ve been from the other night. William, you always forget to clean up after we’re done.”

William laughed lowly as Grace playfully smacked him. He murmured a soft apology, taking all the blame, brushing it off like some harmless misunderstanding. But as he held her, his eyes flicked toward me, scanning my face for a reaction.

He was met with nonchalance. I didn’t show any sign of jealousy, not even a frown. The same tight, uncomfortable feeling he’d felt at the hospital came back. A weight pressing down on his chest, leaving him restless.

“Nicole,” he said curtly, “you’ve been on your phone the entire time, it’s a bit rude.”

There was a bite in his voice. One he didn’t even bother to hide.

“Chatting with your cousin again?” he added when I didn’t respond. “Or is it someone I don’t know about?”

I had just finalized my one-way ticket and locked my screen.

“Just checking the weather,” I said, my tone steady.

My answer only deepened his scowl. Without warning, he snatched the phone from my hand.

“What’s the password?”

I looked at him, deadpan. “Our wedding anniversary.”

Seven years of marriage. And he didn’t remember our wedding date, even though it had only been a few days ago.

He typed once. Then again. And again. The phone locked after too many failed attempts.

I didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

The rest of the drive was tense and silent.

When we reached the estate, William was all softness again—toward his darling Grace. He helped her out of the car like she was made of glass, murmuring something about her nausea. His hand never left the small of her back.

He ordered the cook to prepare her favorite comfort food. As he passed through the hallway, he saw me walking alone toward the guest room, my suitcase dragging behind me.

He paused. For a moment, something flickered across his face—regret? Guilt? He pushed it down.

“Find out what Nicole wants and make that too,” he said to the cook. “We’ll all eat together tonight.”

Upstairs, I opened the guest room closet and was met with what could only be described as horror.

Every outfit I’d left behind was bathed in red. Someone had poured what looked like blood or red paint all over my clothes.

Thankfully, I had tucked my passport safely in my suitcase earlier.

I let out a slow breath and started putting on my shoes, determined to leave before anyone noticed.

But just as I turned around, Grace appeared in the closet.

She leaned against the large shoe rack. Her eyes roamed over me in disdain.

“Well, look at you,” she sneered. “Still hanging around like a roach that just won’t die.”

She stepped closer, her smile sugar-coated and venomous.

“You know, it’s kind of pathetic. Everyone laughed behind your back when I took your place—your husband, your house, your status. And here you are, crawling back in like a beggar.”

Then, tilting her head mockingly, she added, “Didn’t your mother die last month?”

The mention of her stung like a slap.

Grace clucked her tongue. “Poor thing. Guess she was the last one who actually cared if you lived or died.”

She pulled out her phone and shoved the screen in front of me. “Remember how you begged William to be there with you at her funeral? He was with me, oh the sunset was extra beautiful that day.”

The photo showed them on a dock, backlit by golden light, his lips pressed against her forehead.

That same day, I had sat on the floor of our hallway, crying into a voicemail he never returned.

Something in me snapped.

I slapped the phone from her hand. It hit the floor with a clatter.

She lunged toward me, but I grabbed her wrist and pushed her back. And before I knew it, she was pushing the shoe rack toward me.

I screamed in terror as I hit the floor with the shoe rack pressing me down.

Somewhere in the chaos, I heard shouting.

“Nicole!”

William’s voice, followed by the hurried footsteps of the servants.

Grace immediately laid on the floor and started moaning in pain as she heard his voice. She was such a snake.

“William… help me…”

He didn’t hesitate. He cast me a single glance as I laid there with the weight of the shoe rack over me, and then swept her into his arms and turned away.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t even know if I was still alive.

___

When Grace finally fell asleep an hour later, he searched the entire house, but it was way too late.

I had already boarded a flight to London, limping as I made my way onto the plane.

Just before the plane doors closed, my phone buzzed.

A single message from William.

[I don’t have time to play games, Nicole. Come home.]

I turned the screen off.