Chapter 8

• Elena's POV
• I moved my hand under the sheet to touch my stomach.
• It was tender, but there was no cramping. No blood. The nurse had told me earlier, while I was drifting in and out of consciousness, that the baby was fine.
• Liam didn't know. And after what he just said, he would never know.
• "So," Liam checked his watch. "The doctor says you can be discharged tonight. It's just a fracture. We're going home."
• "I'm not going home with you," I said.
• Liam's face hardened. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper so Sophia wouldn't hear, or maybe he didn't care if she did.
• "Yes, you are," he said. "Marcus just called. He said if you cause a scene or try to separate from me right now, he'll pull your sponsorship. Your visa expires in three weeks, Elena. Without the Glaciers, you're deported."
• I looked into his eyes. There was no love there. Only calculation.
• "You need me," Liam said, patting my uninjured hand condescendingly. "So let's stop the drama. Put on a smile. We're walking out of here as a united couple. For the team."
• He straightened up and turned back to Sophia. "Ready to go, Soph? I'll drive you home first, then I'll come back for Elena."
• "Okay, Liam," Sophia smiled sweetly. She cast one last look at me, a look of pure triumph, and took his arm.
• They walked out.
• I was left alone in the sterile silence.
• I reached for my purse on the bedside table. My fingers brushed against the velvet box hidden inside. Noah's ring.
• I wanted to put it on. I wanted to call him. I wanted to fly away on his jet and leave this hell behind.
• But I couldn't.
• Not yet.
• If I left now, I would be the "crazy ex-wife" who abandoned her hero husband. I would be deported. I would lose my career, my reputation, everything.
• And Sophia would win. She would live in my house, raise her child with my husband, and laugh about how she crushed me.
• No.
• I gripped the bedsheet.
• I would go home. I would play their game. I would smile for the cameras.
• But I would be watching.
• Liam thought I was just "tough." He was about to find out that I wasn't just tough.
• I was unbreakable.
• Returning to the house felt like walking back into a prison cell, except this one was decorated with velvet drapes and expensive art.
• Liam played the role of the doting husband perfectly as he helped me out of the car. He supported my uninjured arm, guiding me up the steps.
• "See?" he said, unlocking the door. "Home sweet home. No reporters. Just us."
• I stepped inside. The air was stale. The scent of Sophia's perfume, a cloying vanilla musk, still lingered in the foyer. She had been here. Recently.
• "I need to lie down," I said, heading for the stairs. My head was still throbbing from the concussion.
• "Wait," Liam called out. "I... I need to talk to you. About our future."
• He walked over to the kitchen island where I had left my purse earlier. He was holding a piece of paper.
• My heart stopped.
• It was the appointment slip from the Eastside Women's Clinic. I must have dropped it when I was fumbling for my keys, or maybe he had gone through my bag.
• "I found this," Liam said, his expression unreadable.
• I braced myself. He knows. He knows I tried to abort his baby.
• But then, his face softened into a look of pity that was even worse than anger.
• "Eastside Clinic," he read. "I looked it up. They specialize in... difficult cases. Fertility issues."
• He looked at me, shaking his head sadly. "Is that where you were going? To see why you can't get pregnant?"
• I stared at him. The slip clearly said Consultation, but he had filled in the blanks with his own narrative. He was so convinced that I was "broken" that he couldn't imagine any other reason for me to visit a clinic.
• "I..." I started to speak, but he cut me off.
• "It's okay, Elena," he said, walking over to hug me. I stood stiff as a board in his arms. "I know you want a baby. I know how hard you've been trying. It must be devastating for you to fail, month after month."
• Fail.
• He was talking about failure while his mistress was pregnant with his child.
• "But," Liam pulled back, his eyes gleaming with a strange, manic excitement. "Maybe this is a sign. Maybe God closed this door to open a window."
• "What are you talking about?" I asked warily.
• "Mike," Liam said. "You know... my old army buddy who died last year? Well, I found out something tragic. He had a girlfriend. And she... she passed away in childbirth recently."
• I watched him weave the lie. It was impressive, in a sick way.
• "She left behind a baby," Liam continued, grabbing my hands. "A little boy. He's in the system, Elena. Alone. No parents. Just like Mike."
• "And?"
• "And I think we should adopt him."