The clatter of pots and pans from downstairs yanked me from a shallow, dreamless sleep. Sunlight, weak and watery, filtered through the heavy drapes, doing little to dispel the chill that had settled deep in my bones. Graham was in the kitchen. It was an unusual sound. He rarely cooked, preferring catered meals or my own carefully prepared dishes.

I dragged myself out of bed, each movement stiff and heavy. When I walked into the kitchen, he stood by the stove, flipping something in a pan with an air of theatrical domesticity. He was wearing an apron patterned with cartoon chefs, an absurd image that almost made me laugh if my heart hadn't felt so hollow. The scene felt staged, a desperate attempt at normalcy.

He turned, his face breaking into a wide, almost too bright, smile. "Good morning, sleeping beauty! Look what your amazing husband made for you!" He gestured proudly at a plate piled high with what looked suspiciously like burnt pancakes and undercooked sausages.

My stomach clenched, not from hunger, but from the sheer fakery of it all. "It looks delicious, Graham," I said, my voice carefully neutral, a practiced mask of affection. The lie slipped easily, a testament to the years I' d spent perfecting this role.

He beamed, clearly pleased with himself. He leaned down, placing a quick, possessive kiss on my temple. "See? I told you I could do it when I put my mind to it. You just need to have faith in me, babe." He patted my head, a gesture I once found endearing. Now it felt condescending.

He settled into his chair, pulling out his phone. I watched him, a cold knot forming in my chest. He scrolled through social media, a faint smile playing on his lips, oblivious to the burnt offering he' d just presented. He was waiting for something. Or someone.

A few minutes later, he excused himself, mumbling something about a "very important work call" and disappeared into his study. My fork clinked against the plate, the sound echoing loudly in the sudden silence. I pushed the food around, a faint metallic scent clinging to the air. It wasn't just burnt. It smelled off.

I waited until I heard the low murmur of his voice from the study, then quietly rose. My training had given me an acute sense of hearing, a skill I' d honed for precision in quiet labs. It also meant I could often catch snippets of conversations not meant for my ears. I crept closer to the study door, pressing my ear against the polished wood.

"...yes, my love," Graham's voice was soft, laced with an intimacy that felt like a punch to the gut. It wasn't the casual "babe" he used with me. It was something deeper, more possessive. "I miss you too. So much."

My blood ran cold.

"Of course, I remember that night," he chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves. "How could I forget? You were incredible."

A pause. Then, his voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "No, no, Elise is perfectly oblivious. A bit dim, honestly. She just... does whatever I tell her to. She' s too caught up in her little graduate student world to notice anything."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Oblivious? Dim? He had no idea the extent of my "little graduate student world." And no idea how devastatingly aware I was.

"She' s useful, though," he continued, a calculating edge to his tone. "The investment in her research was a smart move. Keeps her busy, keeps her quiet. And she' s... cooperative. Exactly what I need right now."

My vision blurred. Useful. Cooperative. That' s all I was to him. A means to an end.

"Meet me at the apartment tomorrow," he whispered, excitement coloring his voice. "Elise will be at the lab all day. We'll have the whole place to ourselves. Just like old times."

My heart, already fractured, felt like it was turning to ice. The apartment. Our sanctuary. The place he had sworn was "ours."

I stumbled back, leaning against the cold wall for support. My eyes landed on a small, framed photo on the hallway table – a picture from our wedding day. We stood beneath a shower of rose petals, smiling, eyes full of promise. It was a beautiful lie.

A sudden, uncontrollable rage surged through me. My hand shot out, sweeping the photo frame off the table. It crashed to the floor, the glass shattering. The sound echoed through the silent house, sharp and violent.

Graham's murmuring stopped abruptly in the study. A moment later, the door creaked open. He appeared, his eyes wide, then narrowed as he spotted the broken frame.

"Elise! What happened?" He hurried over, not to me, but to the shattered glass. "My grandmother gave us this! Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. I gestured vaguely at the shards. "It slipped."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Well, we' ll have to get it replaced. It was a vintage piece, you know. Very valuable." He looked at me, a trace of annoyance in his eyes. "Be more careful, babe."

He reached out, trying to pull me into a hug. I stepped back, my eyes fixed on his. A faint tremor ran through me.

"Graham," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Who is coming over tonight?"

His eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. "What are you talking about, Elise? No one's coming over tonight." He forced a smile. "Just you and me, celebrating my successful call!"

My blood ran cold. He was lying. Right to my face. The sheer audacity.

"Actually," he continued, his tone shifting, "Keeley is coming by. Just for a quick chat about the institute. You know, professional stuff."

My breath hitched. Keeley. Here? In our home? The blatant disregard, the open disrespect. It was a slap in the face.

"She's such a brilliant scientist," Graham enthused, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. "And she knows so much about genetic research. I thought it would be good for you to meet her. You could learn a thing or two."

Learn a thing or two from Keeley? The "prodigy scientist" who dropped out of grad school and built a fake persona? The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.

Just then, the doorbell chimed, a bright, cheerful sound that seemed cruelly out of place. Graham's face lit up. He practically bounced to the door, throwing it open with an eagerness he hadn't shown me in months.

Standing on our doorstep was Keeley Nguyen. She was even more stunning in person, a picture of flawless elegance. Her eyes, identical to my own, sparkled with an almost predatory amusement as they swept over me. She was wearing a silk dress, a vibrant crimson that clung to her curves. It was the same dress Graham had bought for me on our first anniversary. I had never worn it, deeming it "too flashy."

"Graham, darling!" Keeley purred, her voice dripping with an artificial sweetness that made my teeth ache. She embraced him, a lingering, intimate hug that spoke volumes.

Graham, still holding her, turned to me, his smile fixed. "Elise, this is Keeley. Keeley, this is my wife, Elise."

Keeley finally detached herself from Graham, her gaze raking over me, a silent assessment. "Ah, yes. The lovely Mrs. Harvey. I've heard so much about you." Her smile tightened at the edges. "Graham mentioned you're a... graduate student, I believe? How quaint."

My jaw clenched. Quaint. She dismissed my entire existence with a single word.

"Perhaps," Keeley continued, her voice syrupy sweet, "you could make us some tea, darling? All this academic talk makes one terribly thirsty."

A vein throbbed in my temple. Make us tea? In my own home? The audacity was breathtaking.

"I think I'll pass," I replied, my voice dangerously calm. "I'm not feeling particularly hospitable tonight."

Keeley's eyes widened in mock surprise. She turned to Graham, her lower lip trembling slightly. "Oh, Graham. Your wife is... so direct. I just wanted a simple cup of tea."

Graham's face darkened. He shot me a furious glare. "Elise, that's incredibly rude! Keeley is our guest." He turned back to Keeley, his voice softening. "Don't mind her, Keeley. She's just a little stressed with her studies. I'll get you some tea."

He walked towards the kitchen, leaving me standing there, exposed and humiliated. He always chose her. Always sided with her, even against me. My shoulders slumped. The anger was quickly replaced by a chilling realization: he wouldn't defend me. He never would.

Suddenly, Keeley stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "You know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Graham only married you because you look so much like me. He told me. He said you were a convenient replacement."

My stomach dropped. It was true. All of it. The confirmation was a fresh wound, twisting in my gut.

Before I could react, Keeley lunged, her hand darting out towards my phone, which I had unconsciously clutched in my hand. "What's on there? Evidence, perhaps? Something to ruin my reputation?"

I tightened my grip, pulling back. "It's nothing that concerns you."

"Oh, but it does!" she hissed, her face contorted in a mask of fury. "You think you can just record things and get away with it? I'll destroy you!" She clawed at my hand, her nails digging into my skin. The pain was sharp, but the shock was greater. She was actually attacking me.

Just then, Graham re-entered the living room, a tray with tea cups in his hands. He stopped dead, his eyes widening at the sight of Keeley struggling with me.

"Keeley! What's going on?" he exclaimed, dropping the tray with a crash. China shattered against the marble floor. He rushed forward, not to me, but to Keeley, pulling her protectively into his arms.

"She attacked me, Graham!" Keeley wailed, clutching her hand and pouting dramatically. "She tried to hit me! And she has something on her phone! She's trying to frame me!"

Graham turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury. "Elise, what the hell is wrong with you? Attacking our guest? Have you completely lost your mind?" He looked at Keeley' s hand, where a faint red mark was already forming. "Oh, my poor Keeley! Did she hurt you?"

He cradled her hand, his face etched with concern. My own hand throbbed, a deep cut bleeding freely from where Keeley' s nail had torn my skin. But he didn't even glance at me. He didn' t care.

A cold, dead sensation spread through my chest. The betrayal was absolute. My vision swam, my head spinning. I couldn' t be here. Not one more second.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice flat, distant, as if it belonged to someone else. I turned, stumbling towards the door.

"Leave? Where do you think you're going?" Graham snapped, his voice sharp with command. "You're not going anywhere until you apologize to Keeley!"

I ignored him, my mind a blur. I just needed to escape this suffocating room, this suffocating lie. As I reached the front door, Graham stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Elise, stop this ridiculous behavior!" he demanded, his voice hardening. He reached out to grab my arm.

"Don't touch me," I warned, my eyes flashing. The raw pain was giving way to something colder, harder.

He paused, then sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Look, babe, I know you're upset. But let's not make a scene. Come on, let's just talk about this later. Here, have some water." He offered me a glass from the shattered tea tray, retrieved from the floor.

My throat was parched, and without thinking, I took a large gulp. The water tasted oddly sweet, cloying. A wave of dizziness washed over me, disorienting and sudden. The room spun. My knees buckled. Darkness enveloped me, swift and absolute.

A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes, a constant, irritating rhythm fighting against the fuzzy edges of my awareness. My mouth felt dry, my limbs heavy and sluggish. A strange, sickly sweet scent permeated the room, clashing with the familiar, expensive cologne Graham always wore. It was a woman's perfume, one I didn't recognize.

I heard voices then, hushed and intimate, close by. Graham's low murmur, followed by a soft giggle. Keeley. My stomach clenched.

"She's out cold, right?" Keeley's voice, light and airy, carried clearly. "You made sure she wouldn't wake up?"

"Don't worry, my love," Graham's voice was laced with a tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "She won't stir. She's heavy enough to sleep through anything." A pause. "Besides, she's so pathetic when she's like this. So weak."

Weak? Pathetic? My eyes, still closed, burned with unshed tears. The pain of his words was a dull echo in my drugged state.

"Good," Keeley purred. "Because you're mine, Graham. Only mine. You promise?"

"Always," he breathed, a sound of absolute devotion. "You're my one true love, Keeley. She means nothing to me. Just a convenient distraction."

A convenient distraction. The words hit me like a physical blow, even through the fog. My last shred of hope, that perhaps there was some misunderstanding, some explanation for his cruelty, evaporated. It was gone. Replaced by a vast, echoing emptiness.

I felt a tremor in the bed, a soft rustle of sheets. A wave of nausea washed over me. My body, despite its drugged state, recognized the familiar intimacy that was beginning to unfold beside me. The sounds, the movements, the oppressive scent. My heart hammered, but it was a cold, detached beat. I was numb. Utterly, completely numb.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fog in my brain began to lift. My limbs felt less heavy. I could feel the rough texture of the sheets against my skin. I could hear more clearly now, the voices more distinct.

"Are you sure she doesn't have anything on her phone?" Keeley asked, her voice laced with a sudden anxiety. "That recording from earlier... if she got anything, it could ruin me. Our contract is ironclad, Graham. If my reputation takes a hit, it's a huge financial penalty."

Graham chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Relax, Keeley. I took her phone. And she's too stupid to do anything clever with it anyway. She's just a naive little graduate student. What could she possibly have that would matter?"

My breath hitched. My phone. My old burner phone. It was tucked between the mattress and the headboard, where I' d hidden it before he came back into the room. But my work phone… the one with all the research data… that was still in my pocket. I had to protect it. It contained the cure. His cure. My life' s work.

I shifted slightly, testing my motor skills. Still sluggish, but improving. Keeley's voice was closer now. I heard the rustle of her dress. She was getting out of bed.

"Where is it?" Keeley demanded, her tone sharp. "Her work phone. She was holding it earlier. Give it to me."

"Keeley, relax," Graham mumbled, still half-asleep. "It's probably in her bag or something. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter!" she hissed, her voice rising in panic. "What if she recorded something important? The institute might be involved! I can't afford any more scandals!"

I felt a hand fumbling at my side, probing my pockets. My heart leaped into my throat. I had to act. With a surge of adrenaline, I clamped my hand over my pocket, protecting the device.

"What are you doing?" I said, my voice raspy, surprisingly loud.

Keeley shrieked, jumping back. "She's awake!"

Graham jolted upright, his eyes wide with shock. "Elise? How... how are you awake?"

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Keeley. She lunged again, her eyes wild, desperate. "Give it to me! Give me that phone!"

I twisted away, rolling off the bed. My head swam, but I held onto the phone with a death grip. Keeley grabbed my arm, her nails digging in, trying to pry my fingers open. We stumbled, a chaotic dance of panic and desperation. The room tilted. I heard a sickening crack.

We crashed through the railing of the second-story balcony.

A terrifying sense of freefall. The air rushed past my ears. My mind, even in its drugged state, instinctively moved to protect. My arms flew to my abdomen, shielding the fragile life growing within me.

A jarring, bone-shattering thud. Pain exploded through my body, a white-hot agony that consumed everything. I gasped, a ragged, desperate sound.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Graham. He was scrambling, not towards me, but towards Keeley, who lay whimpering a few feet away, clutching her arm. "Keeley! Are you hurt? My darling, are you okay?"

He didn't even look at me. Not once. I was a crumpled heap of pain and despair, bleeding onto the cold stone patio, and he looked right through me. The abandonment, the utter indifference, was a final, crushing blow.

My world went dark.

When I next opened my eyes, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I was in a hospital bed, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to the throbbing pain in my lower abdomen. The digital clock on the wall read 3:47 AM.

Graham sat in a visitor's chair, his head bowed, his face pale and drawn. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. A flicker of something-regret? guilt?-crossed his face.

"Elise," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Thank God you're awake. You gave me such a scare." He pushed himself up, coming to my bedside. "You fell. It was an accident. Keeley... she accidentally knocked you."

An accident. His words were a sickening lie. "Don't," I rasped, my voice weak. "Don't lie to me."

He flinched. "Elise, please. Let's not make a big deal out of this. You're going to be fine. Just a few bruises, a minor concussion. The doctors said you'll recover completely." His words were rushed, dismissive, glossing over the horror of what had happened.

My gaze hardened. I would not let him control this narrative. I would not let him dismiss my pain. I would recover. And then, I would destroy him. I would protect my assets, every penny of the Morton legacy he so carelessly dismissed. I would initiate a strategic separation, then divorce him, cutting him out of my life, utterly and completely.

Graham sighed, running a hand through his hair. He walked to the door, pulling out his phone. "I need to make a call," he mumbled, stepping into the hallway.

His voice was low, but I heard it. "No, no, darling, don't worry. Elise is fine. She's just... being dramatic. She wanted something, some kind of settlement. But I'll handle it. She's not getting a dime."

He was offering me money to smooth things over. To dismiss the violence, the betrayal, the loss. My teeth clenched. He thought he could buy my silence, my forgiveness. He was wrong.

"My phone," I said, my voice stronger now, when he re-entered the room. "Where is it?"

He hesitated, avoiding my gaze. "Your... phone? Oh, it probably got damaged in the fall. Don't worry, I'll buy you a new one. The latest model."

"The contents," I pressed, my voice a cold steel blade. "The data on my work phone. If anything happens to that, Graham, I will hold you personally responsible. It's not just my reputation on the line. It's something far more important."

His expression shifted, from feigned concern to cold suspicion. "What are you talking about? What could possibly be so important on your graduate student phone?"

"You'll find out," I promised, my voice devoid of emotion. "You'll find out exactly what's on it."

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "Are you threatening me, Elise? After everything I've done for you?"

"I'm stating a fact," I countered, meeting his gaze head-on. "And if you continue to make this difficult, you'll regret it."

"Difficult?" he scoffed. "You're the one being difficult! You're a gold-digger, Elise, pretending to be some innocent academic. I see you now. You're just trying to extort money from me!"

I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. "I want to be discharged," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Now."

He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Fine. But don't think for a second you're getting away with this."

He walked out, muttering something under his breath. A nurse came in, her face grave. She held a clipboard, her eyes filled with a deep, unsettling pity.

"Mrs. Harvey," she began, her voice soft. "We... we did everything we could. But the fall... and the impact... you've suffered a miscarriage."

The world tilted again. Miscarriage. The word echoed in the sterile room, raw and devastating. My baby. Our baby. Gone. The life I' d instinctively protected, the tiny flicker of hope I' d unknowingly harbored in my darkest hour, extinguished.

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, tracing a path down my temple. But it wasn't a cry of despair. It was a tear of grim resolve. There was no going back now. No compromise. No second chances.

I reached beneath my pillow, pulling out my old burner phone. With trembling fingers, I deleted the damning message from Corbett, the one confirming Keeley' s identity. The one proving Graham's betrayal. No one would ever have this. No one would ever truly understand the depth of his cruelty.

A cruel, dark comfort settled over me. There was nothing left to lose. No innocent life to protect in secret. Only the cold, hard path of retribution.

Graham returned, a bouquet of gaudy red roses clutched in one hand, a small, velvet box in the other. He tried to offer me a placating smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze flickered nervously around the sterile hospital room, avoiding mine.

"Babe," he said, his voice overly bright. "I got these for you. And this." He presented the velvet box. Inside, a diamond pendant, sparkling under the fluorescent lights. "A little something to make up for... everything."

I looked at the roses, then at the pendant, then at him. His face was a mask of forced sincerity. "I don't want them," I said, my voice flat. "I want to go home."

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Of course. Let's get you discharged."

As we made our way to the car, my vision, still a little blurry, caught a glimpse of movement near a parked car. Keeley. She was leaning against the hood, casually scrolling on a tablet. Her eyes, however, were fixed on me, a faint, mocking smile playing on her lips. She made no effort to hide. She was waiting for me. For us.

"Is that your device?" I asked, my voice cutting through the strained silence in the car. "The one with my intellectual property on it?"

Keeley merely raised an eyebrow, a picture of insouciance. "My dear, I have no idea what you're talking about." She looked at Graham, her smile innocent. "Do you, darling?"

Graham cleared his throat. "Elise, please. Don't cause a scene. Keeley was just helping me organize some files." He reached into my bag, pulling out another small, heavy velvet box. "Here, I also got you this. A new watch. It's the latest model, imported from Switzerland. You'll love it."

I looked at the watch, then back at Keeley, who continued to smirk. "My data, Graham. I want to know where it is. If anything happens to it, I will sue you both. For intellectual property theft, for professional misconduct, and for everything else I can think of." My voice was low, but each word was sharp, precise.

Keeley laughed, a tinkling, brittle sound. "Sue us? Oh, honey, you really think you have a leg to stand on? You're a nobody. And besides," she turned to Graham, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, "Graham, darling, are you really letting her threaten us like this? She's clearly unstable."

Graham's eyes narrowed. He looked at me, then at Keeley, then back at me. He was clearly torn, but his loyalty, as always, leaned towards the woman he was utterly obsessed with. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for my arm.

"Elise, don't push this," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You're being irrational."

I shook his hand off. "Irrational? Is it irrational to protect my life's work? Is it irrational to demand accountability for being drugged and thrown from a balcony?"

Keeley gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in exaggerated shock. "What is she talking about, Graham? She's making things up! She's clearly delusional!"

"She's lying!" Graham roared, his face contorted in a mask of rage. He took another step towards me, his eyes blazing. "You're a liar, Elise! A manipulative, deceitful cheat!"

My breath hitched. "What are you talking about?"

"This!" Keeley shrieked, pulling out her phone. A photo flashed on the screen. It was a picture of me, in the hotel room, with Corbett. My hand was on his shoulder, a tender, innocent gesture. But the angle, the framing, it twisted the image into something scandalous. "She's been having an affair! With her 'brother'! She's been cheating on you this entire time, Graham!"

Graham stared at the photo, his face turning a sickly shade of white, then scarlet. His eyes, initially filled with shock, quickly morphed into a terrifying fury. "You... you cheated on me?" His voice was a low growl, laced with disbelief and a chilling rage. "After everything? After I gave you everything?"

"That's not what it looks like!" I protested, my voice rising. "Corbett is family! He's my guardian's son! He's always been there for me!"

"Family?" Keeley shrieked, clinging to Graham's arm. "Oh, please! Everyone knows how these 'family' relationships work in your elite circles! She's been sleeping with him, Graham! She's been using you for your money while she had a secret lover!"

Keeley's words, laced with venom, inflamed Graham's already simmering rage. His face was a mask of pure hatred. He lunged at me, his hand shooting out. The slap echoed through the quiet street, a sharp, deafening crack. My head snapped back, a searing pain exploding across my cheek. I stumbled, falling to the ground.

"You disgust me!" Graham snarled, his eyes burning with a cold fury. He grabbed my arm, wrenching me up. "You lied! You cheated! I gave you my name, my home, my future, and you threw it all away for some illicit affair!" He dragged me towards the house, his grip like iron bands around my arm. "You're a disgrace! A manipulative whore!"

"I didn't cheat!" I cried, the words tearing from my throat. "I never cheated on you! You're the one who-"

"Silence!" he roared, his voice echoing in the now empty street. "You will pay for this, Elise. You will regret the day you ever crossed me." He shoved me into the living room, towards the small, dimly lit utility room beneath the stairs. "You lied to me about your parents! You lied about everything! I thought I knew you!"

He flung me inside, the door slamming shut with a resounding thud. The room was small, dark, and suffocating. The air was thick with the smell of dust and disuse. My body ached, my head spun. The betrayal, the physical violence, the false accusations-it was all too much.

From outside, I could hear Keeley's voice, sweet and triumphant. "Oh, Graham, darling, she's probably secretly recording us in there! She's always been so calculating! She knew how important your cure was. She knew that data was worth millions!"

"She was planning to sabotage you, Graham!" Keeley continued, her voice rising in feigned indignation. "She was going to steal the data, steal your cure, and sell it to your rivals! She confessed it to me! She said she knew exactly how to tweak the algorithms, how to make it look like my data was the faulty one! She said she'd make sure you'd lose everything, especially with your condition progressing. She even mentioned something about your family being furious if something went wrong with the cure she was working on!"

My blood ran cold. She was confessing everything. Everything she had done, she was now twisting and attributing to me. My fingers fumbled for the small, almost invisible recording device I always kept in my bra. A habit from my days in dangerous field research, a hidden safeguard. It was still there. Still on. Capturing every word.

The hours crawled by in the suffocating darkness. Graham occasionally pushed a plate of dry bread and a bottle of water through a small slot in the door, but he never spoke. He never met my eyes. His silence was colder, more condemning than any accusation.

Finally, the door creaked open. Graham stood there, his face grim. "Are you going to admit your lies, Elise?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"I have nothing to admit," I said, my voice hoarse. "I am innocent."

His eyes flashed with anger. He grabbed my arm again, dragging me out of the utility room and up the stairs. "Then perhaps a different kind of reminder will jog your memory."

He pushed me into our bedroom, the room that had once been our sanctuary, now a battlefield. The scent of Keeley' s perfume was overpowering here, mingling with the lingering smell of his cologne. The bed, unmade, bore the undeniable signs of recent intimacy.

My stomach churned. A wave of disgust washed over me. "Get away from me," I choked out, pushing him away.

He lunged, grabbing me, forcing my face to the rumpled sheets. "Look at it, Elise! Look at what you lost! Look at what you threw away!" He laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "You think you're so pure, so untouchable? You think you're better than me? Better than Keeley? You're nothing!"

"You're disgusting," I spat, tears of pure contempt streaming down my face. "You're a vile, pathetic excuse for a man!"

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. "You used to beg for my touch, Elise. You used to tell me I was the only one."

"That was before," I whispered, the words heavy with pain, "before you took everything from me. Before you murdered my child. Don't you dare touch me. Not after what you did. Not after what we lost."

My voice cracked on the last word, the raw grief tearing through me.