1. The End of a Dream

The scent of antiseptic burned her nostrils. The fluorescent hospital lights above were too bright, almost blinding, as she forced her heavy eyelids open. A sharp, agonizing pain coiled in her lower abdomen, making her breath hitch. Her hands trembled as she reached down, pressing against the thin hospital gown covering her stomach. It was flat. Empty.

No.

A sob clawed its way up her throat. She could feel the sting of IV lines in her wrist, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the sterile silence around her. But none of it mattered.

“My baby…” she whispered, her voice hoarse, breaking on the last word.

A nurse standing beside her stiffened. Pity flashed across her face before she glanced at the doctor at the foot of the bed.

The doctor exhaled. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t save the baby.”

The world tilted.

No. No, no, no.

Her fingers clutched the thin sheet, twisting the fabric as if she could anchor herself, as if she could hold onto something—anything—to stop the overwhelming weight of grief from suffocating her.

"We called your husband,” the doctor continued, his voice measured, clinical, unaffected by the way her entire soul was shattering. "Since he’s listed as your guardian, we needed his consent for the procedure. He told us to save you.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, bitter and sharp like glass shards slicing through her throat. Of course, he did.

She turned her head away, blinking rapidly to fight the sting in her eyes. The last thing she remembered before collapsing was strong, muscular arms wrapping around her. For a fleeting moment, she had thought—hoped—it was him. That he had come for her. That he had cared.

But it had been a lie. Just like everything else.

She squeezed her eyes shut, images of the past few hours playing behind her eyelids like a cruel film reel.

---

Hours Earlier

The city skyline stretched beyond the glass windows of the high-rise building as she stepped into his office. The sharp click of her heels against the marble floor echoed in the quiet hallway, her heart pounding in her chest.

She had come straight from the hospital. The words of the doctor still rang in her ears:

"You need to consult your husband immediately. He’s your closest family. This pregnancy is dangerous. If you keep the baby, it could cost you your life."

She had barely registered the secretary standing in front of the office doors, trying to stop her.

“Mrs. Carter, he’s in a meeting,” the woman had said, her expression uncertain.

She hadn’t cared. She needed to see him. She needed him to tell her everything would be okay.

Ignoring the secretary’s protests, she pushed the heavy wooden doors open—

And her world ended.

Her husband stood by the desk, his hands tangled in another woman’s hair. Their lips locked in a kiss so deep, so intimate, it twisted the knife lodged in her chest.

Time froze.

The oxygen drained from her lungs.

She must have made a sound because her husband—her husband—pulled away, turning to face her. His expression wasn't one of guilt. He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, annoyance flickered across his sharp features. “What are you doing here?”

Not I can explain.

Not It’s not what it looks like.

Just cold, detached disdain.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Her heart thundered in her chest, nausea rolling through her stomach.

The woman beside him—a beautiful brunette with long legs and painted red lips—smirked before stepping away, adjusting her dress as if nothing had happened.

As if she was nothing.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “I… I came to tell you something important.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if she were an inconvenience. “If this is about the baby, don’t bother.”

Her blood turned to ice. “What?”

“I know about the complications,” he said, his voice void of any warmth. “I spoke to your doctor. He told me everything.”

She stared at him, searching for the man she had married. The man who had once held her close at night, whispered promises against her skin.

“I don’t understand,” she choked out.

He met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw it. The indifference. The finality.

“I’m done, sweetheart,” he said coolly. “You can’t get over your parents’ death. You can’t even carry a pregnancy properly.”

Her breath hitched.

“So, do yourself a favor,” he continued, walking toward his desk. “Sign the divorce papers. Drop the pregnancy. And move on.”

A trembling sob broke past her lips. “Please,” she whispered. “I love you. I need you.”

He turned his back to her. “I don’t need you.”

The words shattered something inside her.

She stumbled backward, her hands numb at her sides. The walls of the office—her father’s office, the empire he built—closed in on her, suffocating her.

The security guards hesitated. They knew who she was. The daughter of the man who built this company. The woman who had handed everything to the man who was now throwing her away like garbage.

But even they couldn’t help her.

She stepped outside, the cold night air biting at her skin. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers barely working as she dialed her driver’s number.

A sharp pain pierced through her stomach.

She gasped, her vision blurring, the ground tilting beneath her.

Her knees buckled.

The phone slipped from her grip.

And before she could register anything else, strong arms caught her just as the world faded to black.

---

Present

Tears burned her cheeks as she lay in the hospital bed.

It was over.

Her marriage. Her baby. Her father’s legacy.

All gone.

But as she clenched her fists, as she forced herself to swallow the pain threatening to drown her, something shifted inside her.

This wasn’t the end.

No.

This was only the beginning.

And whoever had caught her before she hit the ground… whoever had held her when she had no one left…

She would soon find out exactly who he was.