Chapter 4

Anya Warner POV:

I woke to the smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. The world swam into focus slowly, the bright white of a hospital room ceiling sharp against the blur. Pain was a dull, persistent throb that radiated through my entire body. I tried to move, but a sharp agony in my ribs made me gasp.

My first thought was the baby. My hand flew to my stomach, a desperate, frantic movement.

"Easy, easy." A calm voice cut through my panic.

It was my father's head of security, a man named Marcus. He was standing by the door, his expression grim.

"The baby?" I choked out.

"The baby is fine," he said, and I sagged back against the pillows, relief so potent it felt like a drug. "You're lucky. A few cracked ribs and severe bruising. The doctors say you're tougher than you look."

I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath. Then I heard voices from the hallway. Hamilton's voice.

"You're sure no one saw?" he asked, his tone low and urgent.

"Positive, sir," another voice replied. "The logs show a standard system malfunction. I've already prepared the report for the insurance company. As for Kacey... the security footage from the control room was 'accidentally' wiped for that time frame. There's no proof she ever touched the console."

"Good," Hamilton said, a note of relief in his voice. "Excellent work. Keep it quiet."

The acid of betrayal burned the back of my throat. He wasn't just covering for her. He was actively burying the evidence. He knew she did it. He knew she tried to kill our child, and he was protecting her.

My fingers twitched. Marcus saw it. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod and melted back into the shadows of the room just as Hamilton walked in.

His face was a mask of concern. He rushed to my bedside, taking my hand in his. His touch felt like a brand.

"Anya, my God," he breathed, his thumb stroking my knuckles. "You're awake. You scared me half to death."

I just looked at him, my eyes cold and empty.

"The doctors just told me," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes shining with fake joy. "We're... we're pregnant, Anya. We're having a baby. I'm going to be a father."

He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head away. His lips brushed my cheek, and I had to fight the urge to wipe the spot clean.

"The simulator," I said, my voice raspy. "It wasn't a malfunction. Kacey tampered with it."

Hamilton's hand tightened on mine for a fraction of a second before he relaxed it. He helped me sit up, fluffing the pillows behind me with practiced care.

"Honey, I know you're upset," he said, his voice soft and patronizing. "The crash was terrible. I had the tech team run a full diagnostic. It was a faulty guidance chip. These things happen with experimental tech. I've already fired the head of the department. It won't happen again."

He smiled, a reassuring, confident smile that had once made my heart flutter. Now, it made my blood run cold. He was so good at this. So convincing.

My mind flashed back to the data breach. To the way he had looked at me then, his eyes full of panic and fear. He had begged me to help him, to take the blame. He had sworn he believed in my innocence, even when the evidence was stacked against me. But now, I saw it with horrifying clarity. He had never believed me. He had just used me. He saw the doubt in the board's eyes, the suspicion, and he let me fall to save himself.

And now he was doing it again. He was choosing the "cleaner" option. Kacey, with her pristine record and adoring smile, over me, the liability with a criminal past and his inconvenient child.

A cold, hard resolve settled in my heart. I was done waiting. I was done being his ghost.

That night, when Hamilton had left to "deal with the press," I made a call. Marcus had an untraceable laptop and a secure connection ready for me in minutes. It took me less than an hour to access Glass Innovations' deep servers. I found the 'wiped' security footage from the simulation center. It wasn't wiped, just buried under layers of encryption. Child's play.

The video was damning. It showed Kacey at the control console, her fingers flying across the keyboard, a smug little smile on her face as she deliberately corrupted the simulation's core files.

I didn't send it to the police. I sent it to every major tech blog, gossip site, and news outlet in the country. The file was titled: "Glass Innovations Executive Kacey Nolan Attempts to Murder Founder's Partner and Unborn Child."

The internet exploded.

By morning, Kacey Nolan was the most hated woman in the tech world. #CancelKacey was trending worldwide. Sponsors were pulling out of Glass Innovations. The stock was in freefall.

I watched the chaos unfold from my hospital bed, a grim sense of satisfaction settling over me. It was a start.

The next evening, Kacey showed up at the hospital, her face tear-stained and swollen. She tried to get to my room, but security stopped her. Through the partially open door, I saw her run to Hamilton, who was waiting down the hall. He pulled her into an empty room.

Curiosity, a dark and bitter thing, got the better of me. I slipped out of bed, my ribs screaming in protest, and crept down the hallway. I pressed my ear to the door.

"-don't know how it got out," Kacey was sobbing. "Hamilton, you have to believe me, I didn't do it! Someone is framing me! It was her, it must have been Anya!"

I expected Hamilton to soothe her, to lie, to manage the situation. But what I heard next shattered the last remaining fragments of my heart.

"I know you did it, Kacey," he said, his voice soft, almost a caress. "And I don't care. I'll fix it. I promised I would protect you, and I will."

There was a soft sound, a sound I knew all too well. The sound of a kiss.

"But what about her?" Kacey's voice was muffled. "What if she-"

"She is nothing," Hamilton said, his voice suddenly hard as steel. "She is an outsider. She always has been. You are the one who matters. You are the future Mrs. Glass."

I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a cry. My shoulder bumped into a metal medical cart. It rattled loudly, the sound echoing in the silent hallway.

The door flew open. Hamilton stood there, his eyes wide with alarm. He saw me, and for a split second, I saw raw panic on his face before the mask of concern slammed back into place.

"Anya! What are you doing out of bed?"

I didn't answer. I just stared at him, my vision blurring with tears. I saw Kacey peeking over his shoulder, her expression a mixture of fear and triumph.

I turned and fled, ignoring the searing pain in my side, ignoring his calls behind me. I ran back to my room and slammed the door, my heart a ragged, bleeding mess in my chest.

An outsider.

After seven years of building his world, I was an outsider.

The words echoed in my head, a cruel mantra of my own foolishness. I remembered a time, years ago, when he' d gotten into a fight for me, shielding me from a rival who had insulted me. He' d come back, bruised and bleeding, and roared at me with a fierce possessiveness, "Don't you ever let anyone talk to you like that! You are mine! You are the heart of me!"

Now, he was the one calling me nothing. The heart of him had been transplanted, and I was just the scar tissue left behind.