Chapter 4

Linnie's POV

That was the exact moment the truth crystallized. To Ansel, neither I nor the child we lost would ever hold a candle to Tamsin.

As my voice echoed down the sterile hospital corridor, Tamsin slapped a hand over her mouth, fake sobs tearing from her throat.

"Linnie, I knew it! You still blame me. I never meant for you to lose your pregnancy. I’m literally giving you my own baby to make things right. Will nothing ever be enough for you?"

Without missing a beat, she began to shake, folding in half and clutching her belly.

All the color drained from Ansel’s face. He lunged forward, gathering her against his chest. "Tam, hey—don't scare me. What's wrong?"

"Ansel, it hurts... It hurts so bad..." she whined.

A sharp, unexpected jolt of satisfaction flared in my chest.

Then footsteps pounded down the linoleum. Mom and Dad skidded around the corner.

"Tam! Sweetheart, hold on! Mom and Dad are here!"

They barreled right through me. Mom shoved me so hard I went down, my palms skidding across the polished tile, tearing the skin raw and burning.

Dad stood over me, his eyes bulging with disgust. "Linnea, what is wrong with you? Are you trying to kill your own sister? After everything she’s sacrificed to spare your feelings! She offered you her unborn child because you’re barren, and you pull this stunt?"

The way they instantly closed ranks around her made my blood run cold.

Ignoring the sting in my hands, I forced myself to my feet.

"You're all delusional," I said, my voice steady. "I wouldn't take her kid if you paid me. I already have a perfectly healthy, beautiful daughter of my own. I'm done watching this pathetic soap opera."

A flash of pure venom darted across Tamsin’s eyes before the tearful mask slid right back into place.

"Linnie, please stop lying. The doctors told us you can never conceive. I know how much you hate me. You tracked me down here just to stress me out—you want me to miscarry! And what about Ansel? How can you do this to his baby?"

The last shred of my patience snapped. "Save the theatrics, Tamsin. I don't have time for your bullshit."

Ansel suddenly positioned himself defensively in front of her.

"Mom, Dad... maybe we need to take Linnea back to the house. Lock her in for a few days. If we don't, her jealousy is going to get the best of her. She’s going to hurt Tam and the baby."

I stared at him, bewildered. "Ansel, are you out of your psychotic mind?"

But Mom was already nodding frantically. "He's right. Her envy is making her toxic. All she cares about is destroying Tam. We need to isolate her."

Dad was already taking slow, menacing steps toward me. "I still have those old handcuffs in the garage. We’ll keep her chained up until the delivery. Once the baby is safe, we’ll cut her loose."

Panic spiked in my chest. I spun around and sprinted for the exit.

I didn't even make it past the elevators before they were on me. Three sets of hands locked onto my arms and clothes. I thrashed wildly, my heels skidding against the floor.

"Let go of me! This is kidnapping!"

"We're doing this for your own good, Linnea!" Dad hissed.

I screamed bloody murder, but they shoved me into the empty stairwell before anyone could intervene. They were ruthless. My elbows and knees slammed hard into the heavy steel fire door, scraping the skin until hot blood began to trickle down my limbs.

"Ansel, get your hands off me!" I shrieked. "I will press charges on all of you! This is false imprisonment. My husband and daughter are downstairs right now! You won't get away with this!"

From the doorway, Tamsin let out a sharp, gloating giggle. "Still keeping up the fairy tale, Linnie? Even now?"

Ansel sneered, shoving me down another step. "You’re delusional. All you ever think about is how to steal me back from Tam. What husband? What daughter?"

By the time they hauled me out into the damp, echoing parking garage, my strength was completely spent. I fought a losing battle, watching helplessly as they hoisted me up and brutally shoved me into the trunk of Dad's sedan. Dad reached up, ready to slam the lid shut.

"Get your filthy hands off my mommy!" a tiny, piercing voice suddenly shrieked across the concrete pillars.

Before my family could even turn, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows. Lorcan.

His face was a mask of pure, lethal ice. Without breaking stride, he slipped a hand inside his tailored jacket, drew a sleek handgun, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot deafened the garage. A perfectly aimed bullet tore right through the fabric of Dad's cuff, obliterating the button but missing his flesh by a fraction of a millimeter.

Dad screamed, jerking his hands away from the trunk in absolute terror.

Lorcan kept the smoking barrel leveled, his voice a low, terrifying drawl.

"You were planning to lock up my wife? I’m dying to know where, exactly, you found the nerve."