Chapter 2

• This time, I didn’t fight the treatment. When they handed me the meds, I swallowed them. Whatever the doctor said, I did.
• In the two years we’ve been married, Hank had kept pushing for a baby. He said he loved kids.
• My periods had been a mess before. I'd seen a bunch of doctors, swallowed who knew how many pills, and finally gotten pregnant after all that.
• By then I’d already started losing sleep—nights on end, eyes wide open till dawn.
• The doctor had told me to get my emotions under control or it’d be bad for the baby.
• I didn’t listen. I thought once there was a baby, Hank would go back to how he used to be.
• I lost the baby anyway, and I didn’t even get to see my mother for one last time.
• Guess that was God tapping me on the shoulder, telling me I couldn’t keep living like this.
• After a few days on the meds, that tight knot in my chest finally started to loosen.
• I stopped lying there waiting to die. I fished out my phone and called a lawyer I knew.
• “Draft me a divorce agreement. Split the assets per the law.”
• With only two days left of my hospital stay, I called Hank again.
• He picked up instantly, which actually surprised me.
• He switched to video. The background was our master bedroom. He had on a bathrobe, hair still dripping.
• He clocked the hospital room behind me and the gown. He arched a brow, voice dripping with sarcasm.
• “Done with the act yet? You really checked yourself into a hospital to make me cave? Not afraid you’ll actually catch something?”
• He shifted to the side. The closet door behind him wasn’t closed all the way, and it flashed Emma’s bare upper body.
• The young nurse changing my dressing couldn’t take it anymore. She spoke up.
• “Sir, your wife had a miscarriage after—”
• Hank didn’t even catch the rest. He jerked upright, and his tone flipped—so panicked his voice shook.
• “What? You were pregnant? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me!”
• “Stay put," he hissed. "I’ll drop the project I’m on and come get you right now. Don’t move.”
• He looked so freaked out you’d think he wasn’t the one calling me a faker five minutes ago.
• I didn’t answer. I just hung up.
• Half an hour later, the door swung open.
• It wasn’t Hank. It was Emma.
• She toted a Chanel bag and cradled a huge bouquet of red roses, all smiles as she walked in.
• “Margot, something urgent came up at Hank’s company. He couldn’t get away, so he asked me to come check on you first.”
• She raised the bag and flowers up to my line of sight. “These are my anniversary gifts from Hank. You don’t really use this kind of stuff, so I brought them over for you. Not like I need them.”
• She set the flowers on the nightstand and deliberately flipped her hair to show the hickeys on her neck, like she was flaunting how hard they’d just gone at it.
• I shut my eyes and forced the anger back down.
• Emma leaned in, her voice low so only the two of us could hear.
• “Margot, seriously. You know Hank likes women who are independent and mature, and you keep picking fights every damn day.”
• Her gaze dropped to my belly, her tone full of bite.
• “It's better that the baby’s gone. Saves the kid from turning out like you—annoying as hell.”
• I slapped her, hard, with everything I had.
• She clutched her cheek and the tears came fast. Her voice jumped an octave, all wounded and innocent.
• “Margot, I know you blame Hank for not spending time with you, but he’s doing it for this family.”
• She shuddered dramatically. “He’s strict with you for your own good, hoping you’ll grow up and help take the load off him one day.”
• She stepped closer, tears clinging to her chin, about to fall.
• “I get that you just lost the baby and you’re upset, but you can’t take it out on me.”
• “Stop throwing tantrums," she even added. "Hank’s swamped every day. Can you please be an adult?”
• I ignored her. “Get out.”
• My voice was ice.
• Emma suddenly lunged and grabbed my hand—the one without the IV. I yanked back on reflex.
• She used my pull to throw herself backward and slammed into the nightstand.
• The water glass on it crashed to the floor and shattered.
• The bouquet of red roses dropped too, petals scattering everywhere.
• She sat on the floor and looked up at me with teary eyes.
• “Margot, I came out here to see you of the goodness of my heart. I know you’re upset about the miscarriage, but how could you push me?”
• Right then, the door to the room burst open.