Chapter 3

Andrew' s face went from shock to fury in a heartbeat. "Maria? What the hell are you doing here?"

Jennifer pulled Molly behind her, her eyes narrowed with hate.

I ignored them. My focus was entirely on Andrew. "The vial," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "The last one. I need it for Gabrielle."

Andrew scoffed, a nasty, dismissive sound. "That folk nonsense? You still believe in that garbage?"

"It saved your life," I insisted, taking a step forward. "Please, Andrew. She's our daughter."

"Jennifer' s care saved my life," he spat back, gesturing to his mistress. "Her connections got me the best surgeons. Your dirt water did nothing. You' re being hysterical."

"I am not hysterical!" My voice rose, cracking with desperation. "I am begging you for my daughter's life!"

"You're embarrassing yourself," he sneered. "And you're ruining Molly's birthday."

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like claws. He dragged me from the patio, through the lavish living room, and into his home office. The other guests averted their eyes, pretending not to see, not to hear. They were his people, part of his world.

He slammed the office door shut. A large American flag hung on the wall behind his desk, a symbol of the power he worshipped.

"You think you have some power, don't you?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. "This 'gift' of yours? You're nothing. A relic from a backwards town I had to pretend to find charming."

He shoved me hard. I stumbled back, hitting the edge of his mahogany desk. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

"You come into my home, making demands?" He advanced on me, his eyes wild. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "You are my wife. You will do as I say."

He assaulted me right there, in front of the flag, his actions filled with a brutal need to humiliate me, to shatter any illusion I had of my own worth. He wanted to prove that my 'blessed' status meant nothing, that he was the one in control.

When he was done, he straightened his tie and smoothed his suit jacket. He looked down at me, crumpled on the floor, with utter contempt.

"Fine," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'll go to the hospital. For one hour. Then you will do exactly as I told you."

He walked to a small, hidden safe behind a painting. He spun the dial, opened it, and pulled out a small, dark glass vial. The last vial. The last hope.

He held it out to me, dangling it between his fingers.

"Here. Take your magic potion."

I reached for it, my hand trembling. My fingers were just about to close around it when the office door burst open.