The master bedroom door stood slightly ajar. A muffled giggle drifted into the hallway, cutting through the quiet afternoon.

I pressed a hand to my swollen belly, easing the dull ache in my lower spine, and pushed the wood panel open.

Damon sat at the edge of our mattress. Mia, his supposedly indispensable secretary, straddled his lap. Her silk blouse lay discarded on my favorite reading chair.

"Get out of my bed," I said.

Damon jerked upward, nearly dumping Mia onto the rug. He smoothed his hands down his trousers. He did not look guilty. He looked annoyed.

"Serena." He swiped a hand across his jaw. "Why are you home early?"

"My doctor's appointment ended an hour ago. Good thing it did." I shifted my gaze to Mia. "Pick up your shirt and get out of my house."

Mia clutched a throw pillow to her chest. She shrank behind Damon's broad shoulder. "Damon, please. She is scaring me."

I laughed. A harsh, ugly sound that did not fit the tears burning my eyes. "You are half-naked in my bedroom, and I am scaring you?"

"Lower your voice," Damon snapped. He stepped in front of Mia, shielding her. "You are being hysterical."

"I am eight months pregnant, Damon! I just caught you cheating!"

"We were just talking," he lied, his tone entirely flat. "Mia was having a panic attack. I was comforting her."

"With your hands under her skirt?"

"You always twist things." Damon grabbed his dress shirt from the bedpost and yanked it on. "This is exactly why I despise being around you lately. The paranoia. The constant nagging."

"Paranoia?" I pointed a shaking finger at Mia. She buttoned her collar, a smug little smile playing on her lips before she hid it behind a tearful expression. "She is in our bedroom!"

"Because she needed a safe space!" Damon shouted.

I recoiled. The sheer absurdity of his words struck me like a physical blow.

"A safe space?" I repeated. "From what?"

"From her abusive ex-boyfriend," Damon said, his jaw tight. "Not that you would care. You only ever think about yourself."

"I am carrying your child!" I slapped my stomach. "I have been vomiting for months, going to appointments alone while you worked late with her. And you say I only think about myself?"

Mia sniffled loudly. "I should go, Damon. I do not want to ruin your marriage."

"You aren't going anywhere, Mia." Damon wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It is pouring outside. You will catch a cold."

"You think I haven't noticed?" I demanded, planting my feet on the carpet. "The late nights? The perfume on your collars? The credit card charges for restaurants I have never been to?"

"Client dinners," Damon countered smoothly.

"You bought jewelry at Tiffany's last week, Damon. Did you buy a diamond necklace for a client?"

Mia's hand drifted to her collarbone. A silver chain sparkled against her skin.

I let out another sharp bark of laughter. "Wow. You did not even try to hide it."

"It was a bonus," Damon said, his voice rising to drown me out. "For her hard work. She closed the Lawson account."

"And opened her legs to celebrate?"

"Shut your mouth!" Damon took a threatening step forward. "You are completely out of line, Serena."

"I am out of line? This is my house! This is my marriage!"

"It is my house," he corrected, his tone turning venomous. "My name is on the deed. My money pays the mortgage. You just sit around all day complaining about your swollen ankles."

"I am growing a human being!"

"Millions of women get pregnant. They do not all turn into raging, jealous monsters."

"Damon, do not fight with her," Mia whimpered, stepping up behind him and resting a hand on his back. "It is bad for the baby's stress levels. I will just leave."

"No." Damon caught her hand and squeezed it. "You stay. She needs to learn she cannot throw a tantrum and get her way."

I stared at the man I married three years ago. His familiar features felt entirely foreign.

"She leaves, or I call the police and have her removed for trespassing," I said.

Damon's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me." I reached into my purse for my phone.

Damon crossed the room in two strides. He snatched the device from my grip and tossed it onto the mattress.

"Enough!" he roared. "I am sick of this behavior, Serena. You use this pregnancy as an excuse to act like a tyrant."

"Give me my phone."

"No. You need a timeout. You need to calm down and realize how psychotic you sound."

"Psychotic?" I shoved his chest. He did not budge. "You brought your mistress into my home. You are defending her over your pregnant wife."

"Mia is a victim!"

"Mia is a homewrecker!"

Smack.

The sound echoed off the high ceiling. My cheek burned. My head snapped to the side.

I touched my face, my fingers trembling. He had never hit me before. Not once.

Damon stared at his own palm for a split second, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Then, his expression hardened into stone.

"You pushed me to that," he muttered. "You refuse to listen to reason."

"Damon..." Mia whispered from the bed, sounding genuinely thrilled beneath her fake concern. "Maybe she just needs some air."

"You are right." Damon grabbed my upper arm. His grip felt like a vise.

"Release me!" I thrashed, but the heavy weight of my belly threw off my balance.

"You are going to cool off outside," Damon said, dragging me toward the hallway.

"Damon, stop! You are hurting me!"

"I am protecting my peace," he shot back.

He pulled me down the stairs. My fuzzy slippers slid on the hardwood floor. I gripped the banister with my free hand, terrified of falling.

"Please, the baby!" I cried out.

He yanked me harder, prying my fingers from the wood. "The baby is fine. You are just using him to manipulate me again."

"You are out of your mind! You are choosing her over your family!"

"You stopped being my family the second you started acting like a lunatic."

"I caught you cheating!"

"I told you, we were talking!"

"She was straddling you!"

"She was dizzy! I was holding her up!"

The sheer audacity of his lies made my stomach churn. "Do you hear yourself? Do you think I am stupid?"

"I think you are crazy." He yanked me down the last three steps.

A sharp pain shot across my lower abdomen. I gasped, doubling over slightly. "Stop. My stomach. It hurts."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Always with the dramatics. The doctor said you were perfectly healthy yesterday."

"It is a cramp, Damon, please."

"Walk." He tugged my arm again.

We reached the foyer. The front door loomed ahead. Outside, thunder rattled the windowpanes. Rain lashed against the glass.

"It is storming, Damon. You cannot do this."

"Watch me." He twisted the deadbolt and shoved the heavy oak door open.

A gust of freezing wind swept into the entryway, soaking the hem of my maternity dress instantly.

"Get out." He pushed me onto the covered porch.

I stumbled, catching myself against one of the brick pillars to keep from falling onto my stomach. Cold rain blasted my face.

"Damon, please!" I turned back, grabbing the doorframe. "My phone. My keys. Allow me to get my coat."

"You do not need a coat to stand on the porch and think about what you have done."

Mia appeared in the hallway behind him. She had my favorite cashmere shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

"I will make us some tea, Damon," she purred.

"Thank you, Mia." He looked back at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Do not bother knocking until you are ready to apologize to her."

"Apologize? I hope you both rot!"

Damon shoved my shoulder one last time. "Enjoy the rain, Serena."

The door slammed shut. The deadbolt clicked into place.

The rain poured in sheets, blowing sideways across the porch. The temperature had dropped ten degrees since I arrived home.

I banged my fists against the heavy wood. "Damon! Open the door!"

Silence answered from the other side.

"Damon!"

My knuckles throbbed. The icy wind cut through my thin cotton dress, raising goosebumps along my arms. I wrapped my arms around my belly, trying to shield my unborn child from the biting cold.

I peered through the frosted glass sidelight. Damon and Mia walked back toward the stairs. His arm rested securely around her waist. He never looked back.

"You bastard!" I screamed, my voice swallowed by a massive crack of thunder.

Water pooled around my slippers, freezing my toes. The sharp ache in my abdomen flared again, tighter this time. A hard, seizing pain that stole the air from my lungs.

I leaned against the brick wall, sliding down until I sat on the wet concrete.

The pain did not fade. It grew sharper, radiating through my lower back.

I looked down through the darkness and the driving rain. A dark stain spread across the hem of my dress, washing away into the puddles around me.

Blood.

"Help!" I slammed my bloody fist against the frosted glass.

The deadbolt clicked. The heavy oak door swung inward. Mrs. Gable stood in the foyer, a dripping umbrella slipping from her grasp. She stared at the red puddle forming around my slippers.

"Mrs. Moreno!" She dropped to her knees. "Oh, dear God, you are bleeding!"

"My baby," I gasped, clutching her shoulder. "He locked me out."

"Maria! Bring towels!" Mrs. Gable hauled me inside, leaving a crimson trail on the white marble floor. "I am calling Dr. Lewis right now."

"Do not tell Damon," I pleaded.

"He drove away ten minutes ago," she said, wrapping a thick towel around my waist. "Hold on, sweet girl. Just hold on."

An hour later, the storm raged outside the guest room window.

Dr. Lewis pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them into the trash bin. "You tore a placental vessel. It is a miracle you did not miscarry on that porch."

"Is my son okay?" I stared at the ceiling, my hands resting protectively over my swollen belly.

"His heart rate stabilized, but he is under severe distress. You need absolute bedrest. No shouting, no walking, no stress. Another shock like this will kill him."

"Thank you, Doctor."

The heavy wooden door flew open, slamming against the drywall.

Damon marched into the room. Mia trailed closely behind him, clutching the sleeve of his tailored suit.

"How much is she paying you to lie, Lewis?" Damon demanded, stopping at the foot of the bed.

"Mr. Moreno." Dr. Lewis stood his ground. "Your wife suffered a severe trauma. She requires peace and quiet."

"She is faking it to manipulate me," Damon sneered. "She probably cut her own leg to stage a scene."

"Get out," I told the doctor. "Before he fires you."

Dr. Lewis grabbed his medical bag. "Call me if the cramping returns, Mrs. Moreno." He hurried past Damon and vanished down the hall.

I pushed myself up against the pillows. "You locked me in a freezing storm. You almost killed your own child."

"You slipped because you were acting like a lunatic," Damon countered. "Take some responsibility for your actions."

"I caught you cheating!"

"You caught us talking!" Damon shouted. "You embarrassed me. You terrified Mia."

Mia whimpered. She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead and leaned heavily against Damon's arm. "Damon, my head is spinning. The shouting... it is making me nauseous."

"Sit here, sweetheart." He guided her to the velvet armchair in the corner.

"Do not call her that in my house," I snapped.

"It is my house," Damon reminded me. "I pay the bills. I make the rules."

Mia buried her face in her hands. Loud, dramatic sobs echoed through the small bedroom. "I cannot do this anymore, Damon. I cannot hide it. The stress is going to destroy everything."

Silence filled the room, broken only by the rain hitting the glass.

"Hide what?" Damon asked, his tone softening instantly.

Mia lifted her tear-streaked face. She looked directly into his eyes. "I am pregnant. I took the test this morning."

Damon froze. His anger melted into absolute shock. "A baby? You are sure?"

"Yes." She sniffled, wiping her nose. "I was terrified to tell you. I thought you would hate me. I thought you would tell me to get rid of it."

"Get rid of it?" Damon dropped to his knees. He grabbed both of her hands and kissed her knuckles. "Mia, this is a miracle. I would never ask you to do that."

I laughed. A dry, hollow sound that scraped the back of my throat. "She is lying. You have known her for three months. It takes time to confirm a pregnancy."

Damon shot to his feet. He pointed a rigid finger at my face. "Keep your jealous mouth shut."

"I am eight months pregnant with your actual child!" I yelled.

"And you use him as a weapon to control my life!" Damon shouted back. "Mia is fragile. She needs peace and quiet, not a toxic environment."

Mia stroked her flat stomach. "My doctor said I am high-risk, Damon. I am so scared to go back to my empty apartment. What if I faint? What if I lose our baby?"

"You are not going back there," Damon promised.

"But Serena hates me," Mia cried, shrinking back into the chair. "She will try to hurt my baby. I should just leave. I will raise this child alone."

"I will never let her near you," Damon vowed.

He marched to the doorway and opened it wide. "Mrs. Gable! Maria! Everyone in the hallway, right now!"

Footsteps echoed on the hardwood stairs. Five staff members gathered outside the door, their eyes darting between me in the bed and Damon standing over Mia.

"Clear out the master suite," Damon commanded. "Pack Serena’s clothes and move them into this guest room."

Mrs. Gable stepped forward, wringing her apron. "Sir? The master suite? Mrs. Moreno just had a hemorrhage."

"One more word and you are fired, Gable," Damon warned. "Mia is moving into the main house today. She is carrying my child."

Maria gasped. Mrs. Gable stared firmly at the floor.

"From this moment on, Mia is my future partner," Damon continued. He pulled Mia out of the chair and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. "You will treat her with the highest respect. Maria, you are now her personal attendant."

"Yes, Mr. Moreno," Maria whispered.

"Throw out all the old bedding in the master room," Damon ordered. "Buy a new mattress. Order organic groceries. If Mia needs a glass of water at three in the morning, you fetch it immediately."

"Understood, sir," Mrs. Gable said, her voice tight.

"Damon, you are too generous," Mia murmured. She rested her cheek against his chest. Over his shoulder, she locked eyes with me. The tears vanished. A cold, victorious smirk stretched her lips.

"You are insane," I told him, gripping the blanket. "You bought her jewelry. You gave her my shawl. Now you are moving your mistress into my home and giving her my bed."

"She is not my mistress," Damon snapped. "She is the mother of my true heir."

"True heir?" My stomach twisted into a painful knot.

"A child born out of love," Damon said. "Not a mistake."

"Get out of my room," I whispered.

"Gladly." Damon turned toward the door, guiding Mia into the hallway. He paused at the threshold and looked back at me. "Rest up, Serena. You will need your strength for the divorce proceedings tomorrow."

I clenched my jaw. "You will not get away with this."

"I already have," Damon said. "And do not think you are keeping my son after he is born. Mia and I will be raising him. You are entirely unfit to be a mother."

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the dark.

"First and last month, plus security," Mr. Vargas said. He tapped a grease-stained clipboard against the peeling laminate counter. "Cash only."

"I told you on the phone, I only have the first month right now." I pressed a hand to my lower spine, shifting my weight to ease the grinding ache in my pelvis. "I just need the keys."

"I run a business, lady, not a charity." He eyed my swollen belly. "You look like you are about to pop. A screaming kid means noise complaints. Noise complaints mean I lose good tenants."

"I do not have anywhere else to go." I pulled a crumpled wad of bills from my coat pocket and slapped it onto the counter. "Take the first month. I will pawn my wedding ring this afternoon and bring you the rest."

Vargas stared at the money. He snatched it up and tossed a brass key onto the laminate. "Rent is due on the first. Late fee is fifty bucks. Do not call me to fix the radiator, it rattles when it heats up."

"Thank you."

Vargas walked out, slamming the thin wooden door behind him.

The apartment smelled of stale cigarettes and damp wood. No furniture. Just a stained mattress on the floor and a single window overlooking an alleyway.

I lowered myself onto the mattress. The springs groaned beneath me.

My cheap burner phone buzzed against the floorboards.

I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Did you sign the papers yet?" Damon's voice crackled through the terrible speaker.

"I told your lawyer I am not signing away full custody of my son, Damon."

"You live in a slum, Serena. My investigator gave me the address." He let out a harsh laugh. "You cannot even afford a crib. What judge is going to give you a child?"

"I will fight you."

"With what money? I froze the joint accounts. You have nothing."

"I have a job interview tomorrow."

"You are a week away from your due date. No one is hiring you." Damon's tone turned sharp. "Sign the papers. If you do, I will send you five thousand dollars. You can buy yourself a decent meal."

"Keep your money."

"Mia is redecorating the nursery today," he added, twisting the knife. "She picked out a beautiful mahogany crib for my son. She is going to be a wonderful mother to him."

"Do not let that woman near my baby!" I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white.

"She is already his mother in every way that counts. Sign the papers, Serena, or I will drag you through court until you are entirely broken."

The line went dead.

I tossed the phone aside and pushed myself up. Pain shot down my legs, sharp and unforgiving.

I needed to see the doctor.

Two hours later, I sat on the crinkling paper of an exam table at the free county clinic.

Dr. Evans pressed a stethoscope to my belly. She frowned, moving the metal disk an inch to the left.

"His heart rate is elevated," Dr. Evans said. "And you have lost three pounds since last week. You are supposed to be gaining weight, Serena."

"I am eating," I lied.

"Crackers and tap water do not count." She pulled the stethoscope away and crossed her arms. "Your blood pressure is dangerously high. Are you getting any rest?"

"I sleep."

"On a floor?" She pointed at the dark circles under my eyes. "Your back is entirely knotted. You are exhausted. This level of stress is going to trigger early labor."

"I can handle it."

"Your body cannot." Dr. Evans grabbed a clipboard. "I want to admit you to the hospital for observation."

"No." I slid off the table, grabbing my coat. "I do not have insurance anymore. My husband canceled it."

"Serena, if you have another hemorrhage, you could both die."

"I said no." I buttoned my coat over my stomach. "Just tell me my son is alive."

"He is alive," she said, her voice softening. "But he is fighting just as hard as you are. Do not push yourself to the breaking point."

"I will not."

I walked the twelve blocks back to my apartment. The winter wind bit through my thin coat. Every step sent a jolt of pressure into my pelvis.

By the time I unlocked the door, my legs shook violently.

I collapsed onto the bare mattress. The radiator hissed in the corner, spitting out lukewarm air.

My stomach tightened. A vicious cramp seized my abdomen, forcing a scream from my throat.

I curled onto my side, clutching the fabric of my dress.

"Just a little longer," I whispered to the empty room. "Stay in there. Please."

A heavy knock rattled the door.

I froze.

"Serena!" a woman's voice called out. "Open the door!"

Mia.

I forced myself to sit up. The cramping eased slightly, leaving me gasping for air. "Go away!"

"Damon sent me," Mia yelled through the wood. "Open up, or I will have his security team break the lock."

I dragged myself across the floorboards and twisted the deadbolt.

Mia stood in the hallway, flanked by two massive men in dark suits. She wore a tailored wool coat and a smug smile. Her own belly barely showed beneath the expensive fabric.

"What a dump," she remarked, stepping into the room without an invitation. She pinched her nose. "It smells like garbage."

"Get out of my home."

"I am here for the papers." Mia snapped her fingers. One of the bodyguards handed her a manila envelope. She tossed it onto the mattress. "Damon is tired of waiting. Sign the custody agreement."

"I told him no."

"You do not have a choice." Mia stepped closer, her eyes flashing with malice. "Did you really think you could win? Damon owns the judge. He owns the lawyers. You are a homeless, penniless incubator."

"I will never give my son to a homewrecker."

Mia's hand lashed out. She slapped me across the face.

The sting radiated through my cheek. I stumbled back, hitting the wall.

"Watch your mouth," Mia spat. "I am Mrs. Moreno now. The wedding is next month. Your son will call me Mom, and you will be nothing but a distant, pathetic memory."

I lunged at her.

The two bodyguards stepped forward, grabbing my arms and pinning me against the peeling wallpaper.

"Let me go!" I thrashed, but their grip was iron.

Mia laughed. She reached into her designer purse and pulled out a pen. "Sign the papers, Serena. Or I will have these gentlemen hold you down while I force your hand."

"You are a monster."

"I am a winner." She pressed the pen against my chest. "Now sign."

Before I could spit in her face, a sickening pop echoed in the quiet room.

Warm fluid rushed down my legs, soaking into my shoes and pooling on the wooden floor.

Mia jumped back, her face twisting in disgust. "Ew. What is that?"

A contraction ripped through my body, ten times stronger than the last. The pain blinded me. My knees buckled, and the bodyguards let go, allowing me to crash onto the floorboards.

My son was coming.

And I was trapped with the woman who destroyed my life.