Chapter 3

BRONWYN

He caught my wrist before I reached the door. One tug and I stumbled into his chest.

He wrapped both arms around my waist and held on like he was drowning. His tears soaked through my shirt.

"Bronwyn, you're right here," he whispered against my neck. "But you feel so far away."

His breath was ragged. "Let's have a baby. Give me a child, and you'll have to stay."

I kept my eyes on the floor. I didn't feel a thing.

Something like panic flickered across his face.

We had a baby once. I'd wanted that baby more than I'd ever wanted anything.

Then Ophelia got sick. The hospital blood bank was short on B-negative—her type, and mine. I was eleven weeks pregnant.

Darius drove me there himself.

"It's just a blood draw, Bron. Nobody dies from giving a little blood."

On his orders, they drew far more blood than a pregnant woman could survive. The cramps started while the needle was still in my arm. I lost the baby right there.

After that, my body just gave up. I bled. I spiked a fever that wouldn't break. I spent a week in a hospital bed, while Hugo and Genevieve spent that same week at Ophelia's bedside. They never even checked on me.

Darius stopped by once, for five minutes.

"We're young. We'll have another one. Just focus on getting better." He kissed my forehead. "I'm going to go check on Ophelia. Wait for me."

I waited until the day they discharged me. He never came back.

All of it came back to me now, and I was too numb to feel it.

His shirt smelled like her perfume. Gardenia. It slid into my lungs like a snake, and my stomach turned over. I twisted out of his arms and gagged.

He went rigid. His arms fell away.

"What's wrong? Do you need a doctor?"

I didn't answer. The silence stretched on and on.

"Bronwyn... Ophelia getting pregnant was a complete accident." He swallowed. "I asked her not to go through with it. But her doctor said he might be the only child she'd ever be able to have."

I nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

Then I looked up at him. "I don't feel well. You should go be with them."

That did it. His jaw locked—and then his eyes landed on the suitcase by the closet.

"You're planning to run again. Aren't you?" His voice dropped. "Think about Althea before you do anything stupid. Can you live with what happens to her?"

I didn't fight him. I just smiled a little.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The door banged open. Genevieve stormed in.

"Bronwyn, why did you put peanuts in Ophelia's and Milo's smoothies? You know she's allergic!"

I looked up. "I didn't."

"Don't you dare lie to me. The staff said you made them."

Her hand cracked across my face. My head snapped to the side, and my cheek caught fire.

Hugo stood in the doorway, his lip curled. "Sixteen years with a diner waitress in the middle of nowhere, and this is what we got. No manners. No conscience. You'd poison a child to get ahead."

Behind him, Ophelia leaned against the doorframe, pale and teary.

"Mom, Dad, maybe she didn't mean it..." Her voice wobbled. "And even if she did, I understand. Of course she doesn't want me and Milo here—"

She broke off. The color drained from her face.

"Oh God. It hurts. My stomach—"

At her feet, Milo burst into tears, reaching up for his mommy.

Darius moved like a switch had flipped. He scooped up Milo, got an arm around Ophelia, and rushed them both toward the stairs.

"Ophie, you're going to be fine. Both of you. Hey—we still have that concert to take him to, remember? Coolest parents in the whole arena."

My heart must have died somewhere along the way. It didn't even hurt.

Then the house was empty. Just me, and the sting in my cheek reminding me I was supposed to cry.

My phone buzzed. Linnea.

"Flights are booked. Elisar signed. Three days from now, you and Althea land in San Diego, safe and sound."

My fingers trembled around the phone. Good. This time, I'd really be free of them.

The second I hung up, it rang again. Teresa, Althea's aide. She sounded terrified.

"Ms. Meritt, Althea's crashing. And they just pulled every doctor off the cardiac floor!"