chapter 3

Time stretched and snapped back. When I finally lifted my head, my face was a settled mask of resolve.

"That won't be necessary. I'm divorced. This child is mine alone. You can tell me the instructions."

It had come at the worst possible time. But it was here. I would keep it.

The doctor's brow furrowed.

"But your partner was just here. He's next door—with the other woman."

My mind, cold and sharp, supplied the image at once—Juan and Lois.

But what happened to Lois?

I moved, a ghost drifting toward the sound. Then froze.

There she was. Nestled against Juan's side, a portrait of bliss.

"Juan, we're having a baby. The timing is perfect."

"Thank you, Lois. You've made me a father. You and this child… you're my entire world."

My eyes dropped to her hand resting possessively on her belly. The world didn't shatter—it vaporized. A silent, white-hot detonation behind my eyes.

He kissed her cheek softly.

His tenderness was a blade.

It twisted deep in the cavity where my heart used to be.

They stood together, a perfect unit. The expectant couple.

And I—the wife of ten years—was already erased.

Lois's gaze flicked to me over Juan's shoulder. She pressed closer, her next words a deliberate dart aimed at my soul.

"Of course, everything that old woman couldn't give you, I can. I'd give you my life if you just keep loving me."

"Don't mention her. She's like a corpse in bed. No wonder she can't have a baby. You're... better."

"Juan," she breathed, ripe with possession. "Kiss me now. I want you."

I couldn't listen anymore. I fled back to my room, my body trembling, a leaf in a storm of my own making.

Something inside me didn't just break—it was rent in two. The last thread of hope snapped.

Sorry, my little one. The thought echoed in the ruins. It was just you and me now.

The doctor said I was threatening to miscarry. I needed to stay for observation.

Since the divorce, I'd been living in the hospital, in this sterile room, with nothing but the hum of the machines for company.

Lois was housed next door. Juan attended to her, a faithful hound, his presence a constant shield.

The message was clear—her only threat was me.

I had no energy for their theater. But the performance wasn't done with me.

I was asleep when I felt it—the primal, skin-crawling awareness of a presence. A dark shape loomed by my bed.

I jolted awake. There she stood. Lois.

She didn't flinch. Her calm was practiced, as if she'd stood over sleeping women a hundred times before.

"You're awake. Just checking on you. Don't get too worked up."

She glided toward the door, then paused—a predator with a parting gift.

"Oh, and by the way, I forgot to tell you. You've really trained your husband well. I'm very impressed."

I didn't rise to it. I simply watched her, my gaze flat and cold.

A reaction would be a reward for creatures like her.

"Lois." I let the name leave my lips, slow and deliberate. "Don't celebrate too soon. The game is far from over."