The insulated bag felt heavy in my hand as I made my way through the sleek glass doors of Anderson Tower. My husband's favorite meal—lemon herb chicken with roasted vegetables—was carefully packed inside, still warm. Eight months pregnant, my movements were slower, more deliberate, but I refused to let that stop me from surprising Everett today.

I smoothed down my maternity dress, a designer piece that had been altered to accommodate my growing belly. Even in my condition, I maintained the elegance expected of an Anderson. Mother had drilled that into me since childhood: "Appearance is everything, Sabrina. Never let them see you unravel."

The lobby buzzed with activity as employees scurried about their morning duties. Several stopped to offer smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes.

"Mrs. Brooks! What a lovely surprise," said Janet from reception, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal.

"Good morning, Janet. Is Everett in his office?" I asked, noticing how quickly she looked away from me.

"Yes, ma'am. He's... he's in a meeting, but I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Something in her tone made me pause. As I approached the elevator, I caught fragments of whispered conversations that died as soon as I drew near.

"...can't believe she doesn't know..."

"...Mina said he promised..."

I placed a protective hand over my belly, feeling a gentle kick from within. My child—our child—would be here soon. Eight years of marriage, and finally, we would have the family Everett had always talked about wanting.

"Probably just worried about me overdoing it," I murmured to myself, dismissing their strange behavior. "They've always been protective."

The elevator ride to the thirtieth floor was swift and silent. My mind drifted to the lunch ahead—a small gesture to show Everett how much I appreciated him. Father had always warned me about marrying someone beneath our station, but Everett had proven him wrong. His devotion had been unwavering, his attention constant. Everyone envied our marriage.

The executive floor was quieter than usual. I nodded to a few familiar faces as I made my way toward Everett's corner office. The door was partially open, and I could hear voices inside—Everett's deep timbre and a softer female tone that belonged to Mina Wheeler, his secretary.

I pushed the door wider, balancing the lunch bag in my now-empty hand.

"Everett, I thought you might be hungry—" The words died in my throat.

Mina was perched on the edge of Everett's desk, leaning forward, her blouse unbuttoned one button too many. Everett sat close to her, his hand resting on her knee. They jumped apart when I entered, Mina's face flushing crimson.

"Sabrina!" Everett stood quickly, smoothing his tie. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Mina slid off the desk, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands. "Mrs. Brooks. I was just bringing Mr. Brooks some documents."

The air conditioning blasted cold air into the room, making me shiver despite my pregnancy. Mina wrapped her arms around herself, her lips trembling.

"It's freezing in here," she complained, shooting a pointed look at me before dramatically draping a silk shawl over her shoulders. "The air conditioning must be set too low."

I frowned, noticing how the cold seemed to bother her so much while Everett didn't seem affected at all. The thermostat on the wall read sixty-eight degrees—cool, but not unusually so.

"I'm sorry if it's uncomfortable," I said, placing the lunch bag on the coffee table. "I can adjust it."

Before I could reach the thermostat, Everett was there, blocking my path.

"Don't touch that," he said sharply.

I blinked, startled by his tone. In eight years of marriage, he had never spoken to me that way.

"Everett?"

"You're making her sick," he accused, nodding toward Mina who had sunk into a chair, looking pale and fragile. "She's been feeling unwell all morning, and now you're deliberately making it worse."

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. "I'm what?"

"Don't pretend you don't see how cold it is," he continued, his voice rising. "You've always been selfish about these things, Sabrina. Always thinking about your own comfort."

I stared at him, bewildered. This wasn't the man who had held my hand through every doctor's appointment, who had painted the nursery himself, who had promised to love me forever.

"Everett, I'm eight months pregnant," I said quietly. "I'm not trying to make anyone sick. I just wanted to bring you lunch."

Mina coughed delicately, drawing Everett's attention back to her. The tender look he gave her made my stomach clench.

"You should go home, Sabrina," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Rest. Take care of yourself."

"But—"

"Now, Sabrina." His voice hardened, and something in his eyes made me take a step back.

In that moment, as Mina watched me with barely concealed triumph, I felt something shift inside me—not just the baby moving, but something deeper breaking apart. The man I thought I knew was gone, replaced by a stranger who looked at me with cold indifference while comforting another woman.

And in that stranger's eyes, I saw the glimmer of a truth I wasn't ready to face.

The look in Everett's eyes changed from cold indifference to something darker, something I'd never seen before. His jaw tightened, and before I could react, his hand shot out, fingers digging into my arm with bruising force.

"You need to learn respect, Sabrina," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Pain shot through my arm as his grip tightened. I winced, instinctively protecting my belly with my free hand.

"Everett, you're hurting me," I whispered, disbelief washing over me. "Think about the baby."

"The baby?" He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the spacious office. "You're so concerned about making Mina sick, but you don't think about how your actions affect others?"

I glanced toward Mina, who remained seated, watching us with an expression I couldn't quite read. Her eyes gleamed with something that looked disturbingly like satisfaction.

"I didn't do anything," I protested, trying to pull away. "Everett, please—"

His grip tightened further, and he began dragging me toward the door. "You need to cool down. Literally."

"Where are you taking me?" Panic rose in my throat as he pulled me into the hallway. "Everett, stop this!"

Employees froze as we passed, their eyes wide with shock. No one moved to help me. No one dared.

"Mr. Brooks," someone called out hesitantly, but Everett silenced them with a glare.

"My wife needs to learn some lessons in consideration," he announced loudly, as if putting on a show. "Family matter."

I stumbled alongside him, my pregnant body making it difficult to keep my balance as he pulled me down the corridor. In my peripheral vision, I caught Mina following us to the doorway, her expression shifting to one of unmistakable pleasure as she watched my humiliation.

"Let go of me," I demanded, my voice stronger than I felt. "This is ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous?" Everett's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he dragged me toward the service elevator. "What's ridiculous is how you've always thought you're better than everyone. The precious Anderson heiress."

The elevator doors slid open, and he shoved me inside. I clutched the handrail as he pressed the button for the basement level.

"Everett," I pleaded, "whatever you're thinking, don't do this. Think about our child."

He didn't respond, his face set in grim lines as the elevator descended. When the doors opened again, the cold air hit me immediately, raising goosebumps on my arms.

"The freezer room will help you calm down," he said matter-of-factly, pulling me toward the heavy metal door at the end of the basement corridor.

"No!" Fear gripped me as I understood his intention. "Everett, you can't! It's freezing in there!"

I planted my feet, refusing to move closer to the door. "Please, don't do this. Our baby—"

"Your baby," he corrected coldly. "You never let me forget whose family you come from. Whose blood runs in its veins."

He yanked me forward, and I cried out as my shoulder slammed against the wall. With a sudden surge of strength born from fear, I tried to break free, but Everett was stronger, fueled by a rage I couldn't comprehend.

"You need to learn," he growled, reaching for the freezer door.

I lunged backward, but he caught me around the waist, lifting me despite my struggles.

"Everett!" I screamed as he dragged me toward the threshold. "Don't do this! I'll die in there!"

"You'll be fine for a few minutes," he said dismissively. "Just enough time to think about your actions."

With one powerful shove, he pushed me through the doorway. I stumbled forward, losing my balance on the slick floor. The cold hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath.

"Everett!" I scrambled back to the door as it began to close. "The baby! Please!"

The last thing I saw was Mina's face appearing beside Everett's, her expression a mixture of triumph and something else—something that made my blood run even colder than the air around me.

The heavy door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through my bones.

"No!" I screamed, pounding my fists against the metal. "Everett! Let me out!"

I pressed my ear to the door, listening desperately for any sound of him returning. Through the thick insulation, I could hear muffled voices—Everett and Mina speaking just outside.

"She'll be fine," Everett's voice came faintly. "She's stronger than she looks."

"We should leave," Mina replied. "I don't feel well."

Their footsteps retreated, growing fainter until I could no longer hear them at all.

"Everett!" I screamed again, my voice breaking. "Don't leave me here!"

Silence answered me. Complete, terrifying silence.

I sank to my knees, the cold already seeping through my clothes. The freezer's motor kicked on with a low hum, and I watched in horror as my breath formed clouds in the air before me.

Eight months pregnant. Our child. My child.

Trapped in a freezer.

And no one knew I was here except the two people who had put me here.

The cold penetrated my skin like tiny needles, each breath a painful reminder that I was trapped. My fingers had gone numb first, then my toes. Now, a different kind of pain began to radiate through my lower back—sharp, insistent.

"No," I whispered, recognizing the sensation. "Not now. Please, not now."

I leaned against the wall, sliding down until I sat on the frozen floor. The baby kicked violently inside me, as if sensing the danger we were in.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears freezing on my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, little one."

The contraction hit without warning—a wave of pain that made me gasp and double over. Eight months pregnant. Too early. Much too early.

"Help!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the metal walls. "Please, somebody help!"

Silence answered me. The freezer hummed steadily, the temperature dropping further. I fumbled with my purse, fingers clumsy and unresponsive.

"There has to be something," I muttered, dumping the contents onto the floor. Lipstick, wallet, keys—useless in my current situation.

Another contraction seized me, stronger than the first. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, tasting blood.

"Think," I urged myself. "Think, Sabrina."

My father's face flashed in my mind—his stern expression, his protective nature. Six months ago, when he'd staged his death to test Everett's loyalty, he'd pressed something into my hand.

"An emergency phone," he'd whispered. "For when you need me most."

I'd been angry then, defiant. "I won't need it. Everett loves me."

Father had just looked at me with that knowing sadness. "Keep it anyway. Hidden pocket of your purse."

I'd forgotten about it until now.

With trembling fingers, I reached into the lining of my purse, feeling for the secret compartment Father had mentioned. There—a small bulge. I tore at the fabric, not caring about the expensive designer bag, and pulled out a sleek black phone.

The screen lit up when I touched it. One number programmed.

"Please work," I prayed, pressing the call button.

It rang once, twice, three times.

"Sabrina?" Father's voice, sharp with concern.

"Daddy," I sobbed, the word escaping before I could stop it. "Help me."

"What's happened?" His voice dropped to that dangerous calm I remembered from childhood—the tone that preceded his most ruthless business decisions.

"Everett," I managed between gasps as another contraction began. "He locked me in the freezer room. I'm pregnant. The baby—"

"Where are you?" The phone rustled as he moved.

"Anderson Tower basement," I whispered, my teeth chattering uncontrollably now. "Freezer room. I'm so cold, Daddy. The baby's coming."

I heard him barking orders to someone nearby—names I didn't recognize, commands issued with military precision.

"Stay on the phone," he ordered. "I'm coming for you."

"Too late," I murmured, feeling darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. "It's too late."

"Fight, Sabrina!" Father's voice cut through the fog. "That child is an Anderson. Fight!"

I clutched the phone tighter as another contraction ripped through me. "I'm trying," I whimpered.

Time blurred. The cold became a living thing, wrapping around me, seeping into my bones. I curled around my belly, trying to preserve what little warmth remained.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to my unborn child. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Father's voice continued, distant and urgent, but I couldn't focus on his words anymore.

The darkness was coming faster now.

Then—noise. Shouting. The metallic screech of the door being forced open.

Light flooded the freezer, blinding after the dim interior. I squinted, making out figures in the doorway.

"In here," someone shouted. "She's in labor!"

Warm hands lifted me. I cried out as they moved me, the pain of the contraction overwhelming.

"Miss Anderson," a voice said close to my ear. "Can you hear me? We're taking you to the hospital."

I tried to respond, but my lips wouldn't form words anymore.

"Sir," another voice called. "She's unconscious."

"Get her in the car," commanded a familiar voice—my father's. "Now!"

As they carried me out, I caught a glimpse of him standing in the corridor, his face a mask of controlled fury. Six months of hiding, of pretending to be dead, and now he stood revealed—for me.

"Daddy," I whispered.

His eyes found mine, and in them I saw the promise of retribution.

"Hold on, Sabrina," he said softly. "Just hold on."

But as the darkness claimed me completely, I wondered if either of us would survive what was coming next.