Chapter 7

Ayla Warner POV:

A deafening crash echoed through the night. Craig and Ashley, locked in their embrace, startled. Craig's head snapped up. He looked towards the broken window, then down at the ground below.

His face drained of color. He saw me, crumpled on the cold, hard earth, a spreading pool of crimson beneath me.

"Ayla?" he whispered, his voice laced with a strange mixture of shock and disbelief. He rushed to the window, peering down. "What... what have you done?"

Pain, a searing, all-consuming flame, consumed me. Every breath was agony. My body was broken, shattered. I tried to speak, but only a choked gasp escaped. I could feel the life slowly draining out of me.

My eyes, however, were still blazing. I looked up at him, lying there, broken, but my gaze was filled with an unyielding hatred. He saw it. He recoiled.

Then, the wail of sirens pierced the night, growing louder, closer. Red and blue lights flashed through the trees, painting the scene with an eerie, urgent glow.

With a final, desperate surge of strength, I found my voice, hoarse and ragged. "You... you monster," I rasped, each word a shard of glass in my throat. "You did this. You... you killed our baby. You destroyed Jaylee. You tried to destroy me. You... will pay."

Then, darkness claimed me. Again.

When I next awoke, I was in a different bedroom. Not the sterile hospital room, but a familiar one. My own bedroom. The one I shared with Craig. The windows were sealed shut with heavy, wrought-iron grates. The door was locked from the outside.

Craig sat by the bed, just as before. But this time, his eyes weren't red-rimmed with faux remorse. They were cold, hard, filled with accusation.

"So, you called the police, Ayla?" he said, his voice flat. "You actually tried to ruin me, didn't you? After everything? What is wrong with you? Your jealousy is pathological."

I stared at him, my mind clear despite the throbbing pain throughout my body. "I didn't call anyone, Craig."

He scoffed. "Please. Don't play innocent. The police showed up, asking questions. Thankfully, I smoothed it over. Said you were distraught, hallucinating after the miscarriage." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "But this ends now. You want to push me? Fine. But you're only pushing yourself away. Further and further."

My heart felt nothing. No anger, no pain. Just a hollow, empty space where emotions used to be. The Craig I knew was truly gone. There was only this stranger, this cruel, warped person. And he was completely deluded.

"You're the one who pushed me away, Craig," I said, my voice calm, steady. "You're the one who's become unrecognizable."

He laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Me? Unrecognizable? Ayla, you're the one who's lost it. You withdrew my entire research team from the 'Innovators' Summit'! Ashley had to perform under immense pressure because you sabotaged her! You deliberately tried to make her look bad!"

"I did no such thing," I countered, my voice weary. "My team pulled out because they refused to participate in your charade. They saw Ashley for what she was: a fraud. And they saw you for what you've become: a puppet."

His face flushed with anger. "How dare you! They pulled out because you brainwashed them! You told them to! You're a vindictive, manipulative woman, Ayla! And I'm done with it." He stood up, towering over me. "You need to reflect on your actions. And you're going to do it right here. Until you understand what you've done, you're not leaving this room."

My blood ran cold. "Are you... are you imprisoning me, Craig?"

"Imprisoning?" He scoffed again. "Don't be so dramatic. I'm simply giving you space to think. To recover. To come to your senses." He picked up my phone from the bedside table. "You won't be needing this. No more calls to the police. No more attempts to ruin my life."

He turned and walked towards the door.

"Craig, no!" I cried, trying to scramble out of bed. But my body, still weak and aching from the fall, refused to cooperate. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor with a pathetic whimper.

He didn't even look back. The door swung shut with a heavy thud, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoing through the silent room.

I pounded on the door, screaming his name, but there was no response. Just the chilling silence of my solitary confinement.

Heavy wooden planks were nailed across the outside of my window, blocking out the light, sealing me in. My prison was complete.

Days bled into weeks. A maid, a taciturn woman with eyes that avoided mine, brought me food three times a day. She never spoke, just placed the tray on a small table and left, locking the door firmly behind her. Craig never came.

But I heard them. Ashley's high-pitched laughter, her sweet, manipulative voice. Craig's deep, resonant chuckle. Sounds of a happy home. My home. My prison.

A strange peace settled over me. The pain, the anger, the desperate hope for reconciliation – it all faded, replaced by a cold, quiet resolve. I didn't love him anymore. I didn't even hate him. He was just... irrelevant. A barrier to my future.

One morning, as the maid opened the door with my breakfast tray, I moved. Quick as a flash, I darted past her, out into the hallway.

I heard the familiar sound of laughter coming from the living room. I crept closer, drawn by a morbid curiosity.

There they were. Craig and Ashley. She was curled up on the sofa, her head nestled against his shoulder. He was stroking her hair, a picture of domestic bliss.

Ashley looked up, her eyes widening as she saw me. A flicker of triumph, quickly masked by feigned innocence. "Oh! Dr. Warner! You're out! How wonderful! I was just telling Craig how much I missed you." Her voice dripped with saccharine sweetness.

Craig looked up, his face impassive. He made no move to get up, no move to embrace me. He just watched.

A wave of nausea washed over me. I felt nothing but disgust. I turned to leave, to find an exit.

"Dr. Warner, wait!" Ashley cried, scrambling off the sofa. She rushed towards me, her hand reaching out, trying to grab my arm. "We need to talk! About all the misunderstandings!"

I recoiled, my flesh crawling at her touch. "Don't," I said, my voice cold and flat. "Don't touch me."

She ignored me, her grip tightening. "Please, Ayla! We can fix this! Craig and I still care about you!"

A red mist descended. All the suppressed rage, all the humiliation, all the betrayal, burst forth. My hand moved on its own accord.

SLAP!

The sound echoed through the silent mansion. Ashley's head snapped back, a bright red mark blooming on her cheek.

SLAP!

Another one, even harder. Ashley reeled, stumbling backward, her eyes wide with shock and terror.

"There," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. "Now I've actually hit you. No more accusations. No more lies. This is real." I pointed a shaking finger at her. "And this is just the beginning. You and Craig. You think you've won? You think you've destroyed me? You have no idea what's coming."