Roxanne's POV

It's supposed to be a party, but I don't feel very festive. The lights are too bright, the music too loud. And definitely not with Camilla and Reese sitting across the table, giggling about something. She has her hands wrapped around his neck, and he is leaning in close so he can hear her above the music.

The way he used to lean into me.

"This is nice," someone at the table says, bringing his glass to his lips. I think he is one of the investors at Reese's company. A company I poured years of my life into, but only his name glows on the letterhead.

"Congratulations on bagging this grand contract once again, Mr. Beaumont."

Cheers erupt on the table, and glasses clink. I raise mine to join them, desperate to fit the image of the proud wife, because I am truly proud of him. But Reese shoots me a sharp look, shaking his head insistently.

"Alcohol kills chances," Reese announces, like a public service. Heads turn in my direction, watching. He isn't warning me because he cars. He is trying to tell the whole room that he controls me. He is branding me.

And that's rich, coming from him who is already on his third glass of vodka.

Camilla brings her hands to his thighs as she snaps her other fingers for attention. "I read about it in one of my wellness magazines. Remember, Reese, because of my ..."

"I do," Reese replies gently, edging her on. "The doctor listed a bunch of things alcohol causes, and infertility was the first on the list."

The only other woman at the table tilts her head at me. "How long have you been trying, honey?"

The room stirs as her seemingly innocent question gets me even more stares. I can see the sympathy in their eyes. It stings.

"Long enough." I get on my feet, the chair scraping against the ground. "I am going to get a soda." It is either that or I drown from humiliation at this table.

"Roxanne, that is no way to talk to our investor's wife," Reese scolds, jumping to his feet as well. He has a growing frown on his face as he looks at the lady with apology in his eyes.

Apology that instantly turns to rage when he regards me again. "Apologize now, Roxanne."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, grabbing my purse and walking away. I can hear Reese behind me, about to give me another lecture on how to behave in public so people don't think up the ludicrous idea that our marriage has a problem.

Because it doesn't. At least, not to my husband.

But he hasn't gone far away from the table when Camilla suddenly yelp. I turn around when I hear the sound of a glass breaking, just in time to catch my husband running back to her with urgency.

"Oh my God! Camilla!" Worry slips through his lips, and it is so easy to place the distinction between how he treats me and her. "What happened? I was only gone a couple of seconds."

She clutches onto the table for balance as her feet threaten to give up under her. A weak heroine in a stage play. Her hair is slightly in disarray now, almost like she intentionally fell hard enough to create that image.

"I was going... to go after you and ... Roxanne," she pants, using her other hand to hold onto her chest. "I didn't... I didn't want you both to fight because of... of what I said."

I swear, if she holds on to her chest one more time, I might just drag her into the ET myself, but not for the reasons she wants.

"You know you are ill," my husband sighs, helping her up like porcelain. She leans into him, her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. "You shouldn't push yourself, Camilla. You need rest. Do you want to go home?"

She shakes her head at once. "The hotel is boring and I don't want to be there without you."

"No, silly!" Reese pinches her chin playfully. "You are coming home with us."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes find me, feigning guilt. "Does your wife..."

I allow the rest of her words to drown under the music as I continue my journey to the bar. Now, I not only have to suffer through outings with Camilla sitting right next to my husband, where I should be.

I also have to put up with her living in my home.

How splendid!

By the time I reach the bar, I've already swallowed the bitter truth. Not only is Camilla stealing my place beside my husband in public, she is also moving into my home.

"Long day?" A stranger leans on the counter beside me as I wait for my soda. I do not turn to look at him.

"Nothing worse can happen."

"Don't be so sure," he chuckles. I can hear a bass undertone. "I once thought that after a horrible day, until I walked right into my door on my way to my room in the night and ended up with a concussion. It kept me awake all night."

It doesn't bring a smile to my face. "Well, try not to walk into doors tonight."

The bartender slides my soda over. "Do you want to mix it with something stronger?"

I shake my head, grabbing the can with an appreciative smile.

"Driving?"

The stranger is still here. I steal a glance.

Blue eyes.

"No. I guess I'm not really feeling very excited."

"You are at a party!" He says exasperatedly. "Come alive. Take risks. You can order a ride home if you're too inebriated to drive, just in case you are here alone. I'm sure the person who won this contract is doing the same thing."

The question in his words is very audible.

"Doctors are of the opinion that alcohol reduces the chances of fertility."

I can't believe I just said that to a total stranger. But worse, it bothers me more that I found nothing else to rescue me other than Camilla's and Reese's sickening words.

"Just for a night?"

"Yes." I turn around to walk away. "At least, my husband thinks so."

"Oh!" I hear him chuckle behind me. "Married. Got it. Although I have to admit that that has never stopped me."

Ignoring how that makes me feel, I arrive at the table, sighing when I meet Reese and Camilla still here.

"There you are," Reese says, relief wrapped in irritation. "We need to leave."

I stop. "Why?"

"Camilla is feels sick. She thinks she is about to throw up. Let's get her home."

Home. Our home.

"Move it, Roxanne!" My husband barks, lifting her in his arms and heading towards the door. "Grab her bag and shoes on your way out."

Roxanne's POV

"Roxanne, how long does she have to wait?" Reese asks, sauntering into the kitchen where I am bent over the stove, still in my dinner dress, my hair tied up in a knot.

It is past midnight now. My body wails for sleep.

"Roxanne? I'm talking to you."

I turn around, the cooking spoon trembling in my hand. "She asked for wild rice with feta-stuffed bell peppers, along with grilled lamb chops, and fresh mint sauce. That takes over an hour."

"You've been at it for almost two hours," Reese shoots back, then stops. "Don't tell me you are intentionally taking your time just to spite Camilla. She is..."

"Sick! I know!" My voice cracks. "It's all I've heard since she got here. She is pretending, and you are not seeing it."

"There we go again." My husband rolls his eyes and grabs his keys from the kitchen island. "You are just so caught up in your jealousy that you are refusing to see past it."

"Reese..." I cross the space, my hands laying on his chest, pleading. But my skin burns when he steps back, letting my hands fall uselessly.

"Camilla has been my friend for more than twenty years. We grew together and know basically everything about each other. Should I have turned her away when she called for help?"

"That is not what I am saying, Reese." My voice drops as I cross the space to place my hands on his chest. But he steps back in that moment, allowing them to fall limply to my side.

"So, what are you saying? That you will intentionally sabotage her meal even when you know it's what she really needs right now?"

I feel like I'm running insane. Am I doing something wrong? Am I the cruel one here?

"I am in the kitchen, aren't I?" My whisper borders on frustration mixed with the need to be heard. "Honey..."

He sighs, his voice laden with false devotion. "I am just so worried about her, Roxanne. She used to be so healthy and now... I can't leave her like this. I have to do everything that I can to ensure she's better, and she needs to know that she is loved. Can you just do that for me?"

"Okay," I breathe. "I'll take the food to her. It's almost ready."

"Great. I am going to get some drugs from the pharmacy nearby. I shouldn't be long, but just in case I am, keep Camilla company while she eats. She doesn't like doing that alone."

I let the complaint die on my tongue and nod instead, watching as my husband walks out. Moving mechanically, I get the dishes ready, having to take them up the stairs one after the other since she has insisted on eating in the bedroom.

Reaching her door, I knock at first, waiting for her help because my hands are all full carrying two huge trays. When she doesn't answer, I bend, using my chin to twist the handle.

Just as the door pushes open, one of the trays topples from my hand, and the lamb chops fall to the floor in a clatter. My hands still shake from the weight of the tray.

Camilla looks up from the bed, where she's scrolling through her phone. She doesn't even look sick. She looks hungry instead. Her perfume is sweet and thick, and it finds its way to my mouth, cloting.

"You can't even do this right," she sneers. "Look at all the mess you made. There's mint sauce everywhere. And do you know how expensive it is to make this food? Or you just waste the ingredients because you have them in the pantry?"

I swallow the pain. If I apologize, she'll eat me next.

"Camilla!" I am really trying to understand here. I am. "I have been in the kitchen for almost two hours, slaving away just to satisfy your demands, and this is what you say?"

She rises from the bed slowly, looking at me like I'm delusional. Her smile cuts, as sharp as glass.

"Did you expect me to hand you an applause or something? I know Reese pays for every single thing in this house, including those clothes you have on. And you weren't even with him when this all started, when he worked out his ass to be where he is today."

I shake my head, desperate. "The Beaumont Enterprise is only what it is right now because of me. Reese cannot deny how helpful I have been in growing his business."

Her laughter slices through me, thin and raw. It strikes me in the chest so hard that I rock in my steps.

"What good has ever come out of you?" She rises from the bed and takes a step in my direction. "Roxanne, you seem to forget that you cannot even carry a baby in your womb. How on earth do you want to..."

Her words carve deeper than any blade and suddenly, the only thing I see is red.

I don't know how it happens, but my hands fly fast in the air, landing on her face. Camilla shrieks like a teenager and grabs the plate on the other tray, flinging it straight at my stomach.

It hits me. Hard.

The tray drops from my hand, just as the pain starts to fill the entirety of my being.

"Serves you right," she whispers, kicking me on the same spot. My hands try to protect my frame, but they end up getting hurt as well. "Next time, know your place and be the nice little wife that you are."

I gasp, agony choking me.

Just then, I hear Reese coming up the stairs at the same time as Camilla. She pushes away from me and plops back on the bed, suddenly screaming. Reese starts running, pushing the door open and almost hitting me in the process.

"Roxanne!" He comes to my side, where I writhe. "What happened to you?"

"It hurts," I wail, holding on tight to my stomach. "It hurts terribly."

"She's pretending!" Camilla moans, her fingers on her temples. "Reese, your wife hates me, and I don't know what else to do to get her to like me."

Reese gets on his feet, rushing over to her side. "What happened? Is your migraine back?"

"Roxanne tried poisoning me." She presses her head against his chest. "I don't know what she made, but it tasted awful. And now, I feel funny."

"Shit!" He turns to me. "Roxanne, you promised!"

I don't remember promising anything, but does that even matter now?

"I need to get you to the hospital," he murmurs, picking Camilla off the bed. "You should clean this up before we get back, Roxanne. And pray that nothing fundamental has happened to her because of what you cooked."

I can barely hear a word my husband says as the pain threatens to pull me under, but I surely hear his footsteps down the stairs, Camilla in his arms.

Roxanne's POV

The house has been silent for more than five minutes. Yet, I am still on the floor, still clutching my stomach.

A lot of thoughts go through my head. What if I die in this bedroom alone, staring at the mess on the floor? What would my husband do when he returns? Will Camilla tell him it isn't his fault he failed to check if I was alright?

I push myself closer to the door with my palms, and that is when I see it.

The smear of blood behind me.

"Oh God!" I whisper, fear mixing with the pain. I shiver from the uncertainty that has wrapped itself around me, but something keeps me pushing. I don't know what it is, but I don't stop using my palm as a propeller until I am outside the door.

My room is at the end of the hallway, and it looks like a lot of getting there while crawling. But I cannot give up now, not when I am so close.

Pain makes me fold into a ball in the middle of the hallway, kicking me until I am gasping for breath. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, pouring down my face.

When the worst of the pain passes, I resume my journey, intent on getting into my bedroom. After what feels like forever, I finally get the door open, reaching for my phone on the nightstand.

"Lennox." My voice breaks as I press the phone against my ear after dialling the only number on my emergency contact list.

"Roxanne?" I can hear the worry slip into his tone immediately. He should be asleep by now, but his voice sounds so alert. "Roxanne, are you fine? What is happening? Where is Reese? What did the fucker do?"

"I'm hurt," I cry, unable to stop myself. "There's ...there's blood everywhere."

Lennox doesn't even ask where Reese is before saying, "I'll be there as fast as I can. Stay on the call with me."

Pushing the phone back on the nightstand without ending the call, I lay my head on the rug and succumb to the pain, allowing it to whisk me away in its arms.

The next time I open my eyes, it is to the sound of something beeping in the background and the sickening smell of antiseptic in the air. There is someone beside me, their elbows digging into the bed.

"Urghh!" I wince as I try to sit up. Everything is spinning around me.

"Easy," a strangely familiar voice whispers. I feel a pair of strong, warm hands pushing me back into the bed. "You only just woke up. You don't have to get on your feet immediately."

"It's too bright," I whisper, closing my eyes. "Can you turn off the lights?"

"Of course." He gets up, just as I hear the door. "You can open your eyes now."

When I do, I find Lennox and a doctor in a lab coat standing by my bedside. There is another person in the room, the one who spoke to me when I opened my eyes. But he is in a far corner now, blending perfectly into the shadow.

"Mrs. Beaumont," the doctor starts. "How do you feel now?"

"Parched," I croak.

He laughs. "Of course." Then moves to the dispenser in the room, grabbing me a cup. I drink from it greedily, taking every single drop in.

That feels much better.

"Now, let's start with the pain." The doctor's voice is back. "Is that gone?"

I nod. I can't feel it again.

"What time is it?"

"6 am," the man in the shadows responds. "You were out for five hours."

"And Reese?"

Lennox looks at me like he's about to lose his shit. "I can't believe you're asking of him when he was the one who put you in here."

"He wasn't," I shake my head insistently. Lennox is my best friend, and he has never been a fan of Reese from the very first day, but they have managed to co-exist as long as they don't bump into each other.

And that is not difficult to achieve since Reese barely lets me go anywhere.

"So who did this?"

I open my lips to speak, but press them shut.

"What about all the blood?" I say instead, looking up at the doctor.

"You were so lucky they got there when they did. The baby is safe."

Baby. That word is like a match, and the only emotion I can feel is pain. Pain from how long my husband has reminded me of my barrenness, pain from when I see movies with babies and the only thing I can think of is how I don't have any.

"What?" I sit up so fast that I feel the blood rushing into my head. A bout of dizziness hits immediately, but I am too overwhelmed by the sudden revelation to give a moment's thought to it.

"I'm not pregnant," I tell the doctor. "My husband and I have been trying for years now,"

He smiles at me. "Well, you're pregnant because we had to do a lot to save your baby. I guess congratulations are in order, Mrs. Beaumont. Do you want me to break the news to him?"

For a moment, I feel weightless, like I am being lifted into the air. And then, the heaviness drops all around me when I replay the doctor's words.

"Don't tell him," I whisper. "I'll do it myself."

For the first time in years, it feels like I am personally making a decision where my body is concerned. The freedom to keep my baby away from him.

Or not.

"You need to spend the night here so we can properly monitor you, but you should be discharged tomorrow morning."

Lennox waits for the doctor to leave before speaking. "Don't tell me you're planning on going back there after this."

"I'm married," I murmur, getting back into bed. "I have to go back to my husband and my home."

"I cannot believe you're saying this!" Lennox gives me one last look before storming out. He will come around. He always does. I know he cares so much for me.

My eyes fall on the shadow still leaning on the wall in one corner of the room. He angles his head. "I'm thankful you didn't listen to me that night." His voice sounds like rainfall under the dark skies.

"What night?"

"Doctors are of the opinion that alcohol reduces the chances of fertility." He repeats my words from the party as he saunters closer. "A very subjective statement, but I'm glad you held on to it."

His face comes into focus.

I can see his piercing blue eyes.

"Hello, Mrs. Beaumont," his lips barely move. "I'm Isaiah."