Chapter 4

I woke up in a private clinic.

White walls, the smell of antiseptic.

A nurse checked my vitals, her face impassive.

Then a doctor came in.

"Miss Vance, you're pregnant."

Pregnant.

Marcus's child.

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Another chain binding me to him, to this nightmare.

Marcus appeared later, dressed for an evening out.

A tuxedo.

"I have to attend a gala with Seraphina," he said, avoiding my eyes. "You'll be safe here. I've left guards."

He didn't mention the baby. He didn't ask how I felt.

He just left.

His priorities were clear. Seraphina first. Always.

I lay there, numb.

Mama Willow gone. My home destroyed. My locket desecrated. My blood stolen.

And now, a baby.

A cleaner came in, an older woman with kind eyes.

She saw the despair on my face.

While pretending to mop, she whispered, "The fire escape, third window down the hall. Unlocked."

She pressed a small, folded bill into my hand. "For a cab."

A flicker of hope.

I waited.

When the guard outside my door went for coffee, I moved.

Down the hall, the window, the fire escape.

The night air was cold on my skin.

I found a cab.

"Take me to the Atherton Grand," I said. The gala.

I had to see them. I had to understand.

I slipped in through a service entrance.

The ballroom glittered. Music played.

And there they were.

Marcus, smiling, attentive.

Seraphina, radiant, on his arm.

She was wearing a diamond necklace.

A stunning piece, intricate, unique.

I knew it. Marcus had designed it.

For me. Years ago. He' d shown me the sketches, his eyes bright with love.

"For my Elara," he'd said.

Now it adorned Seraphina's throat, a symbol of my replacement, of his complete betrayal.

The Watcher, even without the locket, felt like a raw wound inside me.

I hid in the shadows, near a staff room.

I heard voices. Clinic staff.

"Mr. Thorne's instructions are clear. Involuntary termination tomorrow morning."

"Reason?"

"Mental instability. He has the paperwork signed."

My baby. He was going to take my baby.

Terror, cold and sharp, pierced through my numbness.

The Watcher' s silent scream echoed in my head. It wanted out, it wanted to act.