"Move!"

Damien's voice cut through the chaos.

The crowd parted instantly.

I could barely see him through my tears.

My vision was fading.

The pain in my stomach felt like someone was twisting a knife inside me.

"Damien..."

I wasn't even sure if I said his name out loud.

Then everything went dark.

________________

The first thing I heard was the steady beep of a heart monitor.

The second thing I heard was someone arguing.

"Mr. Blackwood, you need to calm down."

"Calm down?" a man's voice snapped. "If something happens to her because your staff couldn't get her into surgery fast enough, you'll have a lawsuit bigger than this hospital."

I knew that voice.

Damien.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

The room was dim.

White walls. Medical equipment. The smell of antiseptic.

A hospital room.

My hand immediately flew to my stomach.

Panic hit me.

The baby.

A nurse noticed I was awake.

"Mrs. Parker?"

My heart nearly stopped.

"My baby."

The nurse quickly smiled.

"Your baby is okay."

I burst into tears.

Actual sobs.

Relief crashed into me so hard I couldn't breathe.

The nurse gently squeezed my shoulder.

"You need to stay calm. You experienced severe stress and minor placental bleeding."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you were lucky."

Lucky.

The word sounded ridiculous.

Nothing about today felt lucky.

The door opened.

Damien walked in.

The moment he saw me awake, something changed in his face.

The tension disappeared.

Just a little.

"You're awake."

I nodded.

My throat hurt.

His dark suit jacket was gone.

His tie was missing.

His sleeves were rolled up.

For some reason, seeing him looking less than perfect made him seem more real.

More human.

The nurse quietly left.

Damien pulled a chair closer to the bed.

Neither of us spoke for several seconds.

Finally, I looked around.

"How long?"

"Twelve hours."

My eyes widened.

"Twelve?"

"You were unconscious most of the night."

I swallowed hard.

The memories came rushing back.

The hospital hallway.

Chloe. Ethan.

The push. The blood.

My stomach twisted again.

Not from pain.

From humiliation.

Damien must have noticed.

"Don't."

I blinked.

"What?"

"Don't think about them right now."

Easy for him to say.

My husband had another woman pregnant.

My best friend had been sleeping with him for two years.

And somehow I was supposed to stop thinking about it.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

Damien didn't laugh.

Instead he asked quietly,

"Did you know?"

"No."

The answer came instantly.

Of course I didn't know.

If I had known, I would've left.

I wasn't stupid enough to stay in a marriage like that.

At least I hoped I wasn't.

Damien leaned back in his chair.

His jaw tightened.

He looked angry.

Not at me.

At them.

Somehow that made me feel worse.

"I look pathetic, don't I?"

His eyes immediately met mine.

"No."

"I do."

"Sophia."

"My husband got my best friend pregnant."

The words sounded even uglier out loud.

"And somehow everyone else knew before I did."

"No."

I frowned.

"No?"

"No one knew."

"What?"

Damien folded his arms.

"I didn't know."

I stared at him.

He held my gaze.

And for some reason, I believed him.

Damien Blackwood wasn't known for lying.

Actually, Damien Blackwood wasn't known for much talking at all.

At thirty-two, he'd built one of the largest investment firms in New York.

Most people found him intimidating.

I always found him strangely kind.

Especially because he had never asked for anything in return.

Not once.

The door suddenly opened.

My head snapped toward it.

For one stupid second, I thought it might be Ethan.

It wasn't.

A doctor entered.

He checked my chart.

Then looked at me seriously.

"Mrs. Parker, the baby is stable."

I released a breath.

"But."

My stomach dropped.

"But?"

"You need to avoid stress."

I almost laughed.

My entire life had exploded twelve hours ago.

"Any additional trauma could put the pregnancy at risk."

The doctor's expression softened.

"Your baby survived this time."

The words echoed inside my head.

The doctor left.

The room became quiet again.

I stared at the blanket.

Then at the ceiling.

Then back at the blanket.

Finally I reached for my phone.

Damien immediately noticed.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to call Ethan."

His expression hardened.

"No."

I frowned.

"No?"

"You just got out of surgery."

"I need answers."

"You already have answers."

That hurt because it was true.

Still, I grabbed my phone.

The battery was almost dead.

Several missed calls.

Messages.

Emails.

Most were from unknown numbers.

News reporters.

Friends.

People who had already heard rumors.

There was exactly one message from Ethan.

Hope you're okay.

That was it.

Not I'm sorry.

Hope you're okay.

I stared at the screen.

Then dialed his number.

Damien swore under his breath.

The call connected after three rings.

I closed my eyes.

"Ethan."

Silence.

Then a woman's voice answered.

Not Ethan.

Chloe.

"Hello?"

I froze.

The room suddenly felt colder.

"Chloe?"

A small pause.

"Oh."

The sound of her voice instantly made my skin crawl.

"Sophia."

My grip tightened around the phone.

"Why do you have Ethan's phone?"

More silence.

Then I heard something.

Laughter.

Male laughter.

Ethan's laughter.

Somewhere in the background.

Like he was having a great day.

Like yesterday hadn't happened.

Like I wasn't lying in a hospital bed.

"He left it here."

My stomach turned.

I suddenly understood.

Ethan wasn't with lawyers.

Or handling damage control.

Or worrying about me.

He was with her.

Again.

I hung up.

Immediately.

The room became silent.

I slowly lowered the phone.

Damien didn't ask what happened.

He already knew.

"You see now?"

I nodded.

Then the tears came.

Not loud.

Just quiet tears sliding down my face.

Because somehow hearing Chloe answer his phone hurt more than discovering the affair.

Yesterday could've been shock.

Confusion.

Today there were no excuses left.

My husband had chosen.

And it wasn't me.

Damien stood.

I wiped my face quickly.

Embarrassed.

But instead of leaving, he walked toward the window.

Giving me privacy.

Giving me dignity.

The simple gesture almost made me cry harder.

After several minutes, I finally spoke.

"Why are you here?"

Damien turned.

"What?"

"You've been here since yesterday."

He didn't answer immediately.

Then he shrugged.

"You needed someone."

Such a simple answer.

Yet Ethan hadn't done it.

My husband hadn't done it.

The father of my child hadn't done it.

But Damien had.

I looked down at my hands.

"You should go."

"No."

I blinked.

"No?"

For the first time, a faint smile appeared on his face.

"The doctor said stress is bad for the baby."

I almost smiled back.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen.

His expression darkened instantly.

"What?"

I asked.

Damien hesitated.

A bad sign.

"What happened?"

He slowly handed me the phone.

A celebrity gossip website filled the screen.

At the top was a photo.

Ethan.

And Chloe.

Walking into a luxury hotel together.

Taken less than an hour ago.

The headline read:

NEW YORK CEO EXPECTING BABY WITH MYSTERY WOMAN.

My heart stopped.

Then Damien said the words that changed everything.

"Sophia."

I looked up.

His voice was calm.

Dangerously calm.

"You're going to need a lawyer. If he almost killed your baby, then you can almost kill him too. You know how it works—accidents happen."

The words hung in the air long after Damien said them.

I looked back down at the article.

The photo hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Ethan was smiling.

Actually smiling.

His hand rested against Chloe's lower back.

The same way it used to rest against mine.

The same way he used to guide me through crowded rooms.

The same way he used to touch me before everything fell apart.

I tossed the phone onto the bed.

"I don't want to look at it anymore."

Damien took the phone without another word.

Good.

Because if I saw one more picture of them together, I was going to throw up.

A knock interrupted the silence.

A nurse stepped inside.

"Good news. Your test results look much better."

One piece of good news.

She adjusted my IV.

"The doctor thinks you can go home tomorrow."

Home.

The word immediately made me tense.

Because home wasn't home anymore.

Home was where Ethan and Chloe were.

Home was where my marriage had died.

The nurse must have noticed my expression.

"Everything okay?"

I forced a smile.

"Yeah."

She clearly didn't believe me.

Neither did Damien.

The moment she left, he asked,

"Where are you going after you're discharged?"

I stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't stay here forever."

Unfortunately.

"I'll go home."

Damien's jaw tightened.

"No."

I laughed.

"You know, you're weirdly comfortable telling me what to do."

"Because apparently nobody else is."

That shut me up.

I hated that he had a point.

The room fell silent again.

Eventually I sighed.

"It's still my house."

"No."

I frowned.

"What?"

"It's your husband's house."

The correction felt like a slap.

Not because it was cruel.

Because it was true.

The house wasn't mine.

Not really.

Everything inside had Ethan's name attached to it.

The mortgage.

The deed.

The company that paid for the renovations.

Even the car in the garage technically belonged to him.

I suddenly felt trapped.

For three years, I had called that place home.

Now it felt like someone else's property.

Maybe it always had been.

________________

The next morning, I was discharged.

Damien insisted on driving me.

I argued for exactly thirty seconds before giving up.

Mostly because standing made me dizzy.

The ride was quiet.

New York rushed past outside the window.

People walked to work.

Taxis honked.

Life continued.

Mine felt frozen.

When we pulled into the driveway, I immediately knew something was wrong.

There was an unfamiliar Mercedes parked outside.

Women's luggage sat near the front door.

Several designer shopping bags were piled beside it.

I stared.

"No."

Damien followed my gaze.

His expression darkened.

"No?"

I opened my door before he could stop me.

Pain shot through my stomach as I hurried toward the entrance.

I didn't care.

The front door wasn't locked.

I pushed it open.

Then froze.

A pair of expensive high heels sat near the staircase.

Not mine.

A pink coat hung beside Ethan's jackets.

Not mine.

A purse sat on the entry table.

Definitely not mine.

My pulse started racing.

"No."

I walked farther inside.

The living room looked normal.

At first.

Then I noticed framed photographs.

Photographs that weren't there before.

My stomach dropped.

One showed Ethan and Chloe at a restaurant.

Another showed them on a beach.

One was taken in front of Rockefeller Center at Christmas.

I stared at it.

Last Christmas.

Last Christmas Ethan told me he had an important business trip.

Apparently that trip involved Chloe.

A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Oh."

I turned.

Chloe stood at the top of the staircase.

Wearing a silk robe.

My robe.

The one I bought in Paris last year.

For a second, I couldn't speak.

Because my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

Then Chloe smiled awkwardly.

"Sophia."

I wanted to slap her.

"What are you doing here?"

The question came out colder than I expected.

She touched her stomach.

"I live here now."

The words hit harder than the affair.

Because this wasn't sneaking around anymore.

This wasn't hiding.

This was replacement.

She wasn't trying to steal my husband.

She already had.

"What did you just say?"

Chloe swallowed.

"Ethan thought it would be better for the baby."

I laughed.

A short, ugly sound.

"What baby?"

Her hand moved across her stomach.

"Mine."

The hallway suddenly felt too small.

Then another voice appeared.

"What's going on?"

Ethan walked out of the kitchen.

Coffee mug in hand.

Looking perfectly relaxed.

Like none of this was insane.

Like his wife hadn't nearly lost their child forty-eight hours ago.

His eyes landed on me.

Then Damien.

Immediately his expression hardened.

"What is he doing here?"

I stared at him.

That was his first question?

I almost laughed.

"Ethan, are you serious right now?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Damien folded his arms.

"She needed a ride."

Ethan scoffed.

"I can take care of my wife."

The irony was almost impressive.

I stepped forward.

"No, you can't."

His eyes snapped toward me.

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable.

"Sophia."

"No."

I pointed upstairs.

"Did you move her into our house?"

"Our house?"

Chloe looked away.

Coward.

Ethan sighed.

"It's temporary."

"Temporary?"

"She's pregnant."

"So am I!"

The words exploded out of me.

Silence.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

I could feel tears threatening.

Not now.

I refused.

Not in front of them. Not again.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be."

I just stared at him.

Harder?

My husband had moved his pregnant mistress into our home.

And somehow I was the problem.

I suddenly understood something.

Ethan didn't think he was wrong.

Not really.

He thought I'd get angry.

Cry.

Then eventually forgive him.

Just like always.

That realization hurt more than the betrayal itself.

Because it meant he never respected me.

Not even a little.

Then another voice entered the conversation.

Ethan's mother.

Great.

Just what I needed.

Margaret Parker stepped into the foyer carrying a tray.

She smiled when she saw Chloe.

"Sweetheart, your vitamins."

Then she noticed me.

The smile disappeared.

"Oh."

I looked between them.

Ethan. Chloe. Margaret.

The happy little family.

And suddenly I understood something else.

I didn't belong here anymore.

Maybe I hadn't for a long time.

Margaret handed the vitamins to Chloe.

"Make sure my grandson stays healthy."

I instinctively touched my stomach.

Nobody had ever said that about my baby.

Nobody.

Something inside me finally broke.

Not loudly. Quietly.

Like a thread snapping.

I turned around.

"Sophia."

Ethan called after me.

I kept walking.

"Sophia."

Still walking.

Then his hand grabbed my wrist.

I spun around immediately.

"Don't touch me."

The words surprised even me.

Because I meant them.

Every single syllable.

For the first time since the affair began, Ethan looked shocked.

Good.

Maybe he should be.

I pulled my arm free.

Then looked directly into his eyes.

"You chose her."

"Sophia—"

"You chose her."

His silence was answer enough.

I nodded slowly.

Then turned toward the door.

Damien opened it before I reached it.

Outside, fresh air hit my face.

I took a shaky breath.

Then another.

And another.

Behind me, Ethan shouted,

"Where are you going?"

I stopped.

Without turning around, I answered.

"I don't know."

Because for the first time in three years...

I truly had nowhere left to go.

And that terrified me.

As I stepped toward Damien's car, neither of us noticed the figure watching from the second-floor window.

Chloe.

Smiling.

Because she thought she had won.

What she didn't know was that the war hadn't even started yet.