A wave of searing pain hit Claire, ripping a cry from her throat. "Finley, don't go! My stomach—"

He stopped and looked at her, his expression cold and unfeeling. "I don't have time for this. Do you even get what it means if Renee's hand scars? She's a celebrity. Stop being so selfish."

He walked off with Renee, never looking back.

Claire watched him go, despair crushing her. The pain spiked, tearing through her.

She turned to people nearby. "Help me... someone, please help my baby—"

A hot rush of liquid spilled down her legs, and the metallic tang of blood hit her nose. She looked down—bright red everywhere.

"No..." Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her face, sheer terror clawing at her heart.

Her baby. She couldn't lose her baby.

"Miss, are you okay? OMG, someone call 911!" A stranger spotted Claire in the pool of blood and grabbed their phone.

By the time she was in the ambulance, the pain was unbearable, her vision swimming. Still, she held on, begging the paramedic.

"Please save my baby. Save my baby. It's only three months... please."

"Don't worry, ma'am. We'll do everything we can," the paramedic reassured her, speaking gently, careful not to cause her more distress. "Do you want us to call someone for you?"

When the call went through, it wasn't Finley who picked up.

"Hello? What is it?" Renee's voice came through.

"Who is this? I need to speak to Claire Carlson's husband immediately. She's hemorrhaging and on the way to the hospital—this is life and death!"

Finley had already dropped Renee off at a hospital. His phone sat forgotten in her bag while he went to pay the bills.

Renee sneered. "Claire's so dramatic. She thinks pulling the baby card will bring Finley back? If I hadn't left three years ago, I'd already be Mrs. Lloyd. He's always loved me. What does she even have on me?"

"Miss, I don't care about your drama. Get her husband now—a baby's life is on the line!"

Claire, barely conscious, caught Renee's voice from the loudspeaker. Her plea was weak, trembling. "Renee, I'm not competing with you. Please, tell Finley to come. I'm losing my baby..."

"I don't buy it. But fine—let's see who matters more: me or your baby."

Claire kept begging, her voice cracking, but Renee turned to Finley. "It's Claire. She says the baby's in trouble and wants you to go back."

Finley didn't hesitate. "Ignore her. She's lying again. Your hand's more important. The doctor will be here soon—don't worry."

His words hit Claire like a death blow, tearing her heart apart. Her vision blurred with tears, and the world slipped away.

The paramedic tried to speak, but Finley hung up. When he called back, the phone was off.

"This is insane!" the paramedic muttered, gripping Claire's hand. "Stay with me—we'll do everything we can!"

But the pain said it all. She knew her baby was gone.

When Claire woke, the antiseptic stung her nose, burning her eyes. The sterile air felt suffocating.

The doctor approached with a sympathetic look. "You're still young. You'll have other children."

Claire stared at the ceiling, her hand drifting to her now-flat stomach. Tears streamed silently.

No one else would ever understand. The Lloyds had pressured her to get pregnant, overjoyed when she finally did. But now? The baby was gone.

Their father killed them.

She doubted the Lloyd family would care about her anymore.

"Where's the baby's father? I called him to come take care of you," the doctor asked.

Claire blinked, her voice weak. "The baby doesn't have a father."

The doctor frowned. "That can't be right. You're married, aren't you? But I've never seen your husband at any of your checkups. And now, with something this serious? Nothing?"

Claire froze. It hit her: every single prenatal appointment, she'd been alone.

When she first told Finley she was pregnant, he acted thrilled. Promised he'd come to the first ultrasound. But then Renee showed up.

From that moment, it was like Claire didn't exist. Every time she mentioned a checkup, he dodged her, always too busy. She knew where he really was—spending time with Renee.

She stayed quiet for the baby's sake. But now? The baby was gone. So was her reason to keep enduring this.

She was done. Seven years of chasing him, and she had nothing left.

"If no one's here to handle this, you'll need to sort out the payment," the doctor said, handing her a form.

Claire pushed the blanket aside, forcing herself out of bed.

And then she saw them.

Finley. And Renee.

He was hovering over her, his arm steadying her. When he saw Claire, he stepped in front of Renee, protective.

"You followed us here?" Finley snapped. "Renee's hand is already hurt—what more do you want?"

His words hit like ice.

"Don't talk to Claire like that," Renee murmured, leaning against him. "I'm sure she's just here to apologize." She smiled faintly at Claire. "It's okay. I'm not blaming you."

"If you're here to apologize," Finley said, "go get Renee something to eat. Her hand's injured, and she needs to rest."

Claire glanced at Renee's hand. Barely red. Seriously? Meanwhile, she'd just lost her baby, and no one cared.

Her heart felt ache, but she forced a brittle smile, even as her vision blurred.

Words caught in her throat, but Finley noticed something off. He frowned, his tone shifting. "What now? All I'm asking is for you to apologize and get Renee some food. Is that really so hard?"

"No," Claire said, forcing a smile. "It's not too much."

What was there to fight about? Losing the baby had made everything else feel... irrelevant.

"Good." Finley nodded. "Now go home and wait for me. Once Renee's hand heals, I'll come back to you."

The words hit like déjà vu. She'd heard them before—so many times.

The day Renee came back, Claire had scheduled a prenatal appointment. Finley said he was busy, told her to go alone.

She waited at the hospital all day, but he never showed. Instead, she saw him on the news that evening, standing at the airport with a bouquet of yellow roses, grinning as he welcomed Renee home.

A few days later, Claire came down with a fever. Because of the baby, she couldn't take any medication, so she spent the night curled up, sweating through the pain. Finley? He was off on a film set with Renee.

She'd called him, desperate, telling him she felt awful. His response? The same as always. "Wait for me. I'll be back soon."

He didn't come back until the fever had already broken.

It was always like that. Broken promises, over and over, until all the letdowns blurred together.

After one brutal fight, he swore he'd change. Promised he wouldn't leave her for Renee again.

She'd given him five chances.

This was the fifth.

"Renee hasn't eaten yet. If you're not going to get her something, I'll take her myself. Just head home," Finley said, cutting into Claire's thoughts.

"Okay." She turned to leave without another word..

But Finley's gaze snagged on the paper in her hand, his eyes narrowing. "What's that you're holding?"

"Nothing." Claire shoved the paper into her pocket and kept walking, refusing to glance back.

Behind her, Finley called out, "You've got a checkup in a few days, right? Once I deal with Renee, I'll come with you to the hospital."

Her steps faltered, tears slipping down despite her best effort to hold it together.

"We'll see," she said, turning to face him. "But, Finley? Your five chances are up."

"What?" He frowned. "Claire, come on. That was a joke. I never took it seriously—neither should you. Once Renee's hand heals, I'll come back to you. To the baby."

A flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes, but it wasn't enough to stop him from turning back to Renee, guiding her carefully as they left.

Claire watched him go, her heart hollow but her mind resolute. 'That's it, Finley. Your five chances are gone. You'll never get another one.'

Downstairs, she went to pay the hospital bill. While waiting in line, dizziness hit her like a wave, and she stumbled.

A nurse rushed over. "Miss, you look pale. Why are you handling this alone? Where's your husband? Here, let me help you."

"Thanks."

The nurse's kindness was a tiny spark in the icy weight pressing on her chest. A stranger noticed her struggle, yet Finley? His eyes were glued to Renee, blind to everything else.

Claire spent three days in the hospital. Not a single call from Finley.

She doubted he'd even gone home.

"Claire, I'm here to check if you're ready for discharge," the doctor said, walking in with a small group. They examined her while chatting amongst themselves.

"Did you hear? Renee Slutsky, the big celebrity, was here. Burned her hand, I think."

"Just a minor burn. She didn't even need to stay. She left earlier today."

"Who was that guy with her? He's gorgeous! Is he her boyfriend?"

"Not sure, but he treated her like she was the only person on the planet. Lucky girl."

...

Every word hit Claire like a gut punch. Unreal. She was Finley's wife, and he'd spent three days in the same hospital glued to someone else.

"Ms. Carlson, you're all set to go. Is anyone picking you up?"

The doctor's voice was careful, curious. No one had visited her. She'd been completely alone.

"No one." Claire got out of bed, packing her things without a glance at the group.

"Some people really have it tough," one of them muttered as they left.

When Claire got home, the smell of pumpkin soup greeted her. In the kitchen, Finley stood wearing an apron, stirring the pot.

In three years of marriage, she'd never seen him cook. For a second, she wondered if he was trying.

But the moment he saw her, he didn't even let her settle in.

"Why are you just now getting back? You're four or five months pregnant—why are you running around? Can't you just stay home and rest?"

Claire froze, biting back the urge to snap. She wasn't even three months along. Did he even know that?

She let it go. She was too tired for another fight. She turned toward the stairs, all she wanted was to sleep.

Before she reached them, a bright, chirpy voice called out.

"Finley, is the soup ready? I'm starving!"

Claire's eyes narrowed. 'He brought her home.'

"Almost done, little foodie. Come eat," Finley said, setting a bowl of pumpkin soup on the table.

He slid another bowl toward Claire.

"You should eat too," he added.

Claire didn't move. "Why is she here?"

Renee turned to her, all fake sweetness. "Claire, my house is being renovated, and I had nowhere else to go. Finley was kind enough to let me stay. You don't mind, do you?"

Finley waved it off. "Don't worry about it. This is my house, not hers. I don't need her permission."