The ambulance came, and the paramedics got me on the stretcher.

Lying in the ER with an IV in my arm, I shot a text to Phoebe.

[Phoebe, I'm getting a divorce.]

After they discharged me, I stayed home for a few days, thinking I'd finally get some peace. Then my phone started blowing up.

Drained, I answered. Alfred's voice was ice-cold.

"I'm picking you up for dinner."

Before I could respond, he hung up.

Might as well play nice until the divorce was final. I got dressed and went out.

The second he saw my face, something clicked in his expression.

"I forgot to grab your ointment. The restaurant's near the hospital—I'll take you there first."

"No need. It's been days. I'm fine."

He sighed, almost relieved. "Thought so. It's been seven years. If you're still hurting, it's all in your head."

I let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. Seven years."

Seven years ago, I used everything I had to shove Alfred out of that burning building. A falling beam crushed me under the flames.

Three broken ribs. A fractured tailbone. Even now, the slightest bump sent pain shooting through me.

I never told him. Never wanted him to feel guilty. But the pain wasn't in my head—it was real.

If he had ever truly loved me, if he had ever cared... wouldn't he have noticed?

As Alfred drove, he started his usual excuses. "Vivian was shaken up after I saved her. I stayed a little longer to make sure she was okay. Don't overthink it."

I stared out the window. "I'm not. She's your secretary. Makes sense you'd stick around."

Apparently, my indifference hit a nerve. He suddenly slammed the brakes, and my earphones tumbled under the seat. I bent down to grab them—only to spot a swimsuit stuffed underneath.

A month ago, that would've wrecked me.

Now? I just picked it up and tossed it onto the back seat.

Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, that? Probably Vivian's. She must've left it after a swim lesson."

I just nodded and kept watching the scenery blur past.

At the restaurant, the couple at the next table kept sneaking glances our way. Eventually, the girl worked up the nerve to approach.

"Aren't you the CEO from Vivian's posts? Wow, you look even better in person!"

Alfred barely looked up. "You need something?"

She grinned, lowering her voice like we were in on some big secret. "So... are you and Vivian dating?"

Alfred glanced at me, still calmly eating, then turned back to her with a smile. "Yeah. Vivian and I are together."

A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, but I didn't react.

The girl hesitated, frowning. "Then... who is she?"

Without missing a beat, Alfred said, "My maid."

As the girl walked away, she kept glancing back at Alfred, reluctant to leave. "I'll always support you and Vivian! You have to get married!"

Alfred watched them go, then casually dropped a scoop of ice cream onto my plate. "Babe, don't take it to heart. The CEO Falls in Love series on Vivian's socials is blowing up—it's great for the company. You have no idea how happy it makes her. If I shut it down, she'll be upset."

I barely looked at him. "I don't care. You don't need to explain."

Another sharp pain ripped through my stomach. I clutched my abdomen, my face paling.

On the drive home, his phone rang again.

"Mr. Johnston, can you pick me up from the pool? I'm wearing something way too revealing—it's impossible to get a cab. Please, please?"

Vivian's voice was sickly sweet, practically dripping through the speaker.

Alfred chuckled. "Alright, alright, I'm on my way."

After hanging up, he grabbed my hand and kissed it. "Babe, let's go pick up Vivian together. That way, you won't overthink things."

"Alfred, you can't go. My stomach hurts—I need a hospital. Now."

His expression darkened instantly.

"Hannah, can you stop being so dramatic? I wanted to take you with me so you wouldn't make a fuss, and now you're pulling this act?"

"I'm not acting! I need to go to the hospital—I'm serious, it hurts!"

"Oh, come on. At least make it convincing."

Suddenly, I felt a rush of warmth between my legs.

"I'm pregnant," I forced out, my voice shaking. "And I'm in pain. This could be a threatened miscarriage—we have to go to the hospital now."

Alfred didn't believe me. His face twisted in fury.

"Oh, so now you're pregnant? You lie to me about everything—and now you're using this? We've been married for four years. Have we ever used protection? And yet, you never got pregnant—not once! But the moment I go to pick up Vivian, suddenly you're carrying my child?"

His anger boiled over, and he slammed the brakes.

"Get out! Didn't you say you're bleeding? That your stomach hurts? Then go! Stop wasting my time—I need to pick up Vivian."

"Fine. I'll go."

I reached for the door handle, but he yanked me back.

"I've spoiled you too much. You're getting real bold, huh?"

"Let's get a divorce, Alfred."

He froze. "Divorce?"

I nodded. "Phoebe already drafted the papers."

His grip slackened. He just stared.

"Hannah Hill, are you serious? No one's gonna want a pretentious woman like you."

"I've thought it through. Goodbye."

I pulled the door open.

The second he realized I was actually leaving, he floored it.

The world blurred. Then pain—sharp, searing.

Bystanders screamed. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and endless.

Alfred didn't even look back.

The crimson spread, blooming like silent, twisted flowers.