He Made Me Take the Blame for His Mistress's Crime

The night of our engagement party, my fiancé's first love drove drunk and slammed into me. The wheels rolled hard over my belly.

Then the car stopped. The engine roared, and it reversed, and rolled over me again.

My fiancé came running. He spared me a single glance.

A man who couldn't stand a speck of dirt on himself, he crouched down and stripped off his suit jacket to wrap the scraped skin on Flora Pruitt's arm.

I dragged my last strength into one hand and caught the hem of his trousers.

"Jerome Henson. My stomach—"

He took out a bottle of liquor.

"Flora's name's in the engagement notice. She can't get a DUI."

He pinned my jaw shut and forced the liquor down my throat.

"Flora barely touched you. She has a clotting disorder, she needs a hospital, now."

"When the police get here, you confess and behave. After you're out, the Henson name is still yours."

The burn poured down my throat and surged through my whole body, like everything inside me had caught fire.

My mind began to slip.

I drifted in the black sky, weightless, holding the hand of my unborn baby.

Baby tugged at the hem of my dress.

"Mama, where's Daddy going?"

"Doesn't he want us anymore?"

My throat went dry.

"No. We don't want him anymore."

"……"

Baby bowed that little head.

A long moment passed before the eyes lifted again, careful, and gave my dress another tug.

"Mama, I haven't met Daddy yet."

"I want to follow him and look at him. Can I?"

The words caught in my chest.

All I could do was nod, stiff.

"Okay."

Jerome, who never broke a single rule, tore through the streets and blew through one red light after another.

He rushed into the hospital, that always-perfect hair of his soaked with sweat, strands of it plastered to his forehead.

He didn't care. He just kept his head down, soothing Flora in his arms, walking fast enough to outrun death itself.

Baby tipped that small face up at me, eyes full of confusion.

"Mama, why is Daddy so nice to the lady?"

Something twisted in my chest.

"The lady is Daddy's good friend. She's hurt, so Daddy has to take care of her."

Once she was settled, Flora leaned into Jerome's arms and cried, tears spilling right on cue.

"Jerome, I didn't mean to."

"I just saw the two of you getting engaged, and it hurt so much, I only wanted to drive away. I didn't know I'd hit her."

Jerome patted her back, slow and gentle, his voice carrying a tenderness I had never once heard from him.

"I know. You're too sweet, too kind to ever do something like that on purpose. It's not your fault."

Baby balled up two tiny fists, cheeks puffed out with anger.

"The lady's lying. She did it on purpose."

"She drove over Mama's tummy two times. It hurt so much, so much."

My nails dug deep into my palm.

Flora seemed to remember something.

"Jerome, you've only looked after me. Won't she be angry?"

"I saw it earlier, there was so much blood between her legs."

Jerome didn't even crease his brow. His voice was certain.

"Nancy Fox's always been sensible. She won't fuss over something this small."

"That blood is just her period. She forgot to bring pads, that's all."

I went still with shock.

He remembered when my period came. I'd thought he never paid attention to any of it.

A flicker of jealousy crossed Flora's eyes.

"Jerome, you're so thoughtful. You even remember that."

Jerome let out a soft laugh.

"Her period falls on the same day as yours. Hard not to remember."

A nail snapped clean off against my palm.

Out in the hall, a sudden scramble of noise broke out.

Threaded through it, someone shouting, "Save her, hurry!"

Jerome's face darkened. He was about to lose his temper.

A nurse said, low,

"That woman from the car crash earlier, it's awful. I think her last name was Fox?"