The day I went into labor, Howard Delgado called to say he'd been kidnapped.

I dragged myself off the operating table and staggered to the address he'd sent, bleeding with every step.

In my panic, I took a wrong turn—and that's when I saw him.

Howard. Perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him.

He stood in a shadowed corner with his buddies, laughing.

"Howard, isn't she giving birth today? You really lured her out here? Aren't you worried about the baby? This is, what, the tenth time? Don't you think we're going too far?"

"Yeah, man. The first time, you told her rivals had kidnapped you. She went alone. They told her it was her finger or your life—and she didn't hesitate. Snapped her own pinky. She used to love playing piano. Hasn't touched one since."

"The second time, you said someone ambushed you. She brought her little brother. He got hit by a car. He's been in a vegetative state ever since—"

"Shut up."

Howard's familiar growl cut through the air.

"You think I want this? But I failed Yvette when I married someone else. This is the only way to make her happy. What choice do I have?"

"But the baby... that's your own flesh and blood—"

"It's fine. There'll be other babies."

I collapsed against the wall, clutching my stomach as pain ripped through me.

Blood soaked through my clothes, pooling beneath me.

I laughed—a broken, hollow sound.

Howard... there won't be another baby.

You could have just told me you loved her.

I would have let you go.

1.

I woke up in a hospital bed.

"Mia Gilbert, you're finally awake..."

I turned toward the voice.

Howard sat beside me, disheveled, covered in grass stains and dirt like he'd crawled through hell to reach me.

His warm, steady hands tucked the blanket around me.

I noticed the bruises mottling his knuckles—purple and fresh.

He really committed to the act this time.

Ten fake kidnappings. He'd taken real beatings to sell every one.

He must have felt my gaze. Like always, he pulled his hands back, hiding them behind him.

"Mia, don't worry about me. I'm fine—"

"How did they let you go?"

I cut him off. This time, I didn't scramble to check his wounds. Didn't cup his face in my hands. Didn't cry over him.

Howard froze.

But he recovered fast, eyes reddening on cue.

"I got on my knees and begged them. I told them my wife was having our baby today. That I had to be there. That all I've ever wanted—my whole life—was to have a child with her..."

"The baby's gone, isn't it?"

My hand drifted to my stomach. Flat. Empty.

I cut off his performance mid-sentence.

Nine times before this, I'd believed every word. Every time, my heart had shattered for him.

Now, knowing the truth, all I felt was nausea. And a despair so complete it left no room for tears.

Howard sensed something had shifted.

He dropped to his knees beside my bed and grabbed my hand.

"I'm sorry, Mia. This is all my fault—"

I wrenched free of his grip.

"Howard. I want a divorce."

Once, I'd blamed him—for being reckless in business, for constantly putting himself in danger, for dragging me into one crisis after another.

But even then, I never thought about leaving. Because I loved him. The kind of love that's buried in your bones. I would have died for him without hesitation.

Now? Love had curdled into hate.

And I was finally free to walk away.

"No." His voice cracked. "I won't agree to it."

I didn't understand. I didn't care to.

"Fine. Then I'll have my lawyer file the papers."

Howard went still.

He stood frozen, staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

A long silence stretched between us.

When he finally realized I wasn't joking, something vicious flickered in those fathomless eyes.

"Mia, your brother is still in the ICU. You know that. Half the hospitals in this city answer to the Delgado name. The other half used to belong to your father—but your father died three years ago..."

"You bastard."

Humiliation and hatred surged through my chest. My hand shot up to slap him.

But the moment I raised my arm, the wound tore.

Blinding pain ripped through my lower abdomen, radiating outward until my whole body screamed. The gauze around my waist bloomed crimson, soaked through in an instant.

"Mia..."

Howard saw the blood. He was at my side in a heartbeat, gathering me into his arms.

"I'm sorry. I know it's my fault—I failed to protect our child. I swear to you, nothing like this will ever happen again. I'll run the business properly from now on, I promise."

His voice dropped, soft and coaxing. "You said it yourself, Mia. We're each other's only family now. Don't leave me..."

He must have thought he had me again.

After I drifted off, Howard left.

The moment he stepped out, his assistant's voice carried through the door.

"Howard, I don't understand. She already asked for a divorce. Why won't you agree?"

A long sigh. Then Howard's measured reply:

"Old Mr. Gilbert only died three years ago. His remaining connections are still out there. If I divorce her now, I lose too much leverage."

"Then what you said about it being the last time...?"

"I meant it. That was the last time. It won't happen again."

I buried myself under the covers, shoving my fist into my mouth to muffle the sobs clawing up my throat.

So that's what it had always been. From the very beginning—nothing but use. Not a shred of real feeling.

After Howard's footsteps faded, silence blanketed the hallway.

With trembling hands, I found my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart.

"Dad... come back. I know I was wrong."

A long pause. Then a low voice on the other end:

"Alright."

The line went dead.

I curled into a ball under the blankets and wept—ugly, heaving sobs that shook my entire body.

All that stubborn pride, all those years of pushing him away... and I hadn't even managed to make myself happy.

In the end, I still needed my father to come save me.

But his answer let me finally breathe. I closed my eyes and let exhaustion drag me under.

I woke to chaos outside my door.

My eyes had barely opened when the door burst inward.

A hulking man stormed in, club in hand. Before I could scream, it cracked against my skull.

White-hot pain exploded at the back of my head.

Then—nothing.

"Hey! Wake up!"

A bucket of ice-cold water hit my face.

The world spun violently. I forced my eyes open, gasping.

I was in the abandoned warehouse. Rusted beams overhead. The stench of mildew and motor oil. And standing in front of me—the same man who'd broken into my hospital room.

"Mr. Delgado." He held up his phone, angling the screen toward my face. "This your wife?"

Howard's panicked voice crackled through the speaker. "Yes—yes! Who are you? Let her go now!"

The man lit a cigarette, a slow smirk curling his lips.

"Sure, I can let her go. All you have to do is cooperate, Mr. Delgado. I'll release her right this second."

"Cooperate—fine! How much? Name your price! I'll pay anything—even shares in Delgado Group! Whatever you want!"

My heart stuttered.

Howard was a self-made man. Power was everything to him. You could bleed him for money and he'd recover. But his shares? Those were sacred.

And yet he'd just offered them up without hesitation.

A bitter laugh echoed in my mind. I truly didn't understand him.

Maybe this was just another one of his tricks...

"Money's boring. Let's play a game, Mr. Delgado."

The man's mocking voice cut through my thoughts. He waved at the surveillance camera overhead.

"Bring her in!"

Two minutes later, a familiar shriek pierced the air.

I slowly turned my head. Yvette Henson. They'd taken her too.

My heart sank. This wasn't a trick after all.

"Howard, save me!"

Yvette burst through the door screaming like a woman possessed.

The man aimed his phone at both of us.

"Mr. Delgado, all of Kingston City says you're a devoted man. Well, now both your women are here. Pick one."

"Let them both go! I have money—"

Before he finished, the man backhanded Yvette across the face.

Then he grabbed my hospital gown and ripped it open.

"Stop stalling, Mr. Delgado! If you won't choose, you lose them both. Two minutes. Give me your answer!"

"Howard! Save me!"

Yvette's sobs filled the room.

I knew—I knew—Howard wouldn't choose me.

But something possessed me to speak anyway.

"Howard, I've saved you so many times. Just this once... save me back?"

On the screen, Howard's gaze flickered between us. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Time's up, Mr. Delgado..."

The man's hand reached toward Yvette's clothes.

"Stop!"

Howard's eyes blazed red as he roared.

"I choose her!"

His eyes squeezed shut as he pointed at Yvette.

Bitterness flooded through me. I should have known.

"Very good, Mr. Delgado. Come collect her yourself."

The call ended. They dragged Yvette away.

Then the man tore the rest of my hospital gown to shreds.

While Howard retrieved Yvette from the next room, the man took what he wanted from me.

Through the thin walls, I heard her voice—coy, simpering.

"Howard, I was so scared. Thank god you chose me. I love you so much..."

"It's alright. You're not hurt, that's what matters. This is my fault—I made enemies, and they came after you."

They cooed at each other like newlyweds.

Not a single word about me.

I don't know where I found the strength, but I screamed toward the door.

"Howard... save me..."

My voice tangled with the sounds of what was being done to me.

The flirting outside went silent.

But no one answered.

The engine roared to life. The sound faded into the distance.

My heart plummeted into an abyss.

Blood filled my mouth. I bit down harder, repeating the words like a mantra:

Howard Delgado, what you've done to me today—I will repay you a thousandfold.

I lost track of time.

When the sky began to lighten, the man finally tired. He dressed himself, glancing back at me with something like pity.

"You know, you used to be somebody's princess. Why'd you have to pick a heartless bastard like him?"

He left, satisfied.

I swallowed my nausea, gathered the shredded remains of my gown, and stumbled out of that hell.

But when I pushed open the door, I realized—

The real hell was waiting outside.

A sea of reporters had surrounded the abandoned factory.

The moment I stepped out, hundreds of cameras and microphones thrust into my face.