When I got back to the apartment, the front door was slightly ajar. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I pushed it open slowly.

The sound of soft laughter drifted from the living room.

There, on the custom-made sofa I had picked out, sat Everleigh Hooper. Ignatz was sitting on the coffee table in front of her, feeding her a strawberry. She giggled and leaned forward to kiss him.

It was a perfectly staged, intimate moment. And I had just walked in on it.

Ignatz saw me first. His smile faltered for a second, his eyes hardening. "Gen."

Everleigh looked over, her big, innocent eyes widening. She immediately shrank back against the cushions, making herself look small and scared.

"Gen, can you give us a minute?" Ignatz said, keeping his voice low, as if I were an intruder. "Everleigh isn't feeling well. I'll come to the guest room later."

I let out a short, sharp laugh. "The guest room? Ignatz, this is my apartment. My name is on the lease. If anyone should leave, it's her."

He stood up, his expression turning pleading. "Please, just for tonight. You know how she is. We grew up together, I've always taken care of her. She needs me right now."

He was trying to appeal to the part of me that had always made excuses for him, for their "special" bond.

"I'll get her a hotel tomorrow, I promise," he said, his voice a low murmur. "We'll sort this out."

I didn't say another word. I just turned and walked to the spare bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I couldn't block out the sounds. A few minutes later, I heard their laughter again, louder this time, mixed with the sound of the TV. They were settling in for the night. In my home.

I curled up on the bed, not bothering to change. The tears I had held back all day finally came, soaking the pillow in the dark.

Much later, I heard the bedroom door creak open. A shadow fell across the bed.

"Gen? Are you awake?" It was Ignatz, his voice a guilty whisper.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. He reached out and touched my hair.

"I'm sorry about today," he said, his voice thick. "It's just a lot to deal with. The baby... we'll have another one, Gen. When the time is right, I swear."

I lay perfectly still, my body rigid. He didn't know. He thought I had gone through with it. He was apologizing for the inconvenience, not the monstrous thing he had asked of me. The irony was a bitter pill in my throat.

Suddenly, a sharp scream came from the living room. "Iggy! Iggy, where are you?"

Ignatz shot up from the bed as if he'd been electrocuted. "Leigh?"

"I had a nightmare!" she wailed. "Come back!"

Without a second thought, without another glance at me, he bolted from the room. "I'm coming, Leigh! I'm here!"

For the rest of the night, the sound of his low, soothing voice drifted down the hallway as he comforted her, leaving me alone in the dark.

The next morning, I dragged my exhausted body out of bed. The smell of coffee and bacon filled the air. For a delusional second, it felt like any other morning.

Then I walked into the kitchen.

Ignatz was at the stove, flipping pancakes. Everleigh was perched on a stool, wearing one of his expensive silk shirts, her bare legs dangling. She was laughing as he playfully dabbed a bit of whipped cream on her nose.

They looked like a happy couple in a coffee commercial. I was the ghost haunting the set.

Everleigh saw me and her bright smile vanished. She instantly adopted her frightened-doe look, clutching Ignatz's arm. "Oh. Genevieve. You're up."

"Iggy," she whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "I want orange juice. Freshly squeezed."

"Of course, Leigh. Anything you want," Ignatz said, turning to the fridge without a single glance in my direction.

The moment he was busy with the juicer, Everleigh's entire demeanor changed. The fear melted away, replaced by a smug, triumphant smirk. She looked directly at me.

"He was so disappointed when he thought you were pregnant," she said, her voice a syrupy poison. "He told me he never wanted kids with you. He said the thought of it made his skin crawl."

I froze, my hand on the counter. My head snapped up to look at her. My fingers trembled.

"You think you can win?" she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "I'm Everleigh Hooper. My uncle is one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood. Who are you? A no-name architect he picked up out of pity."

My blood ran cold. I knew her uncle was influential. I hadn't realized how much. That's why Ignatz was so desperate to protect her. It wasn't just love; it was ambition. She was his ticket to a world he craved.

Suddenly, Everleigh let out a sharp cry and slid off the stool, collapsing onto the floor. "Ahh! My ankle!" she shrieked, clutching it. "Genevieve, why did you push me?"

Ignatz spun around, his face a mask of fury. He saw me standing near her, saw her on the floor, and didn't hesitate. He lunged forward and shoved me, hard.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he roared.

I stumbled backward, my hip slamming into the corner of the kitchen island. A sharp, searing pain shot through my side. I gasped, clutching the spot.

He didn't even notice. He was already on the floor, cradling Everleigh in his arms. "Are you okay, Leigh? Did she hurt you?"

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a cold, terrifying hatred. "She's fragile, you idiot! I told you that!"

"I... I didn't touch her," I stammered, the pain making my voice shake.

"Get out of my sight," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't you ever touch her again. I'm warning you, Genevieve."

He scooped Everleigh up into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there, trembling with pain and shock.

My hand went instinctively to my stomach, a silent prayer that the baby was okay.

This was my home. And I had just been declared the enemy.

Ignatz didn't come back for two days. I spent the time in a daze, moving through the silent apartment like a zombie. I took down our pictures, packing his clothes into boxes. I even took off my wedding ring. It slid off my finger with no resistance. I had lost so much weight, I hadn't even noticed.

I dropped it into the trash can. It made a dull, final thud.

Then, a text message from him lit up my phone.

Can you do me a favor? There's a blue velvet box in my top drawer. A courier is coming to pick it up in an hour. Have it ready for him.

I went to his drawer. Inside was a small, elegant box from a famous jewelry designer. I opened it. Nestled on the black velvet was a diamond necklace, the kind of ostentatious piece I would never wear. I remembered him showing it to me online months ago.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he'd said. "I'm going to buy it for the most important person in my life."

I had thought he meant me.

Staring at the necklace, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I closed the box.

When the courier arrived, a young man in a crisp uniform, I handed him the package without a word.

"Ma'am, the destination is the St. Regis Hotel," he said, confirming the details.

"I know," I said, pulling my purse from the hook by the door. I took out the folded divorce agreement. "I'm going with you."

The car ride was silent. The St. Regis was hosting a massive press conference for Everleigh's new movie. As we pulled up, I could hear the roar of the crowd and the frantic clicking of cameras.

I walked into the ballroom. The noise died down instantly. Every head turned. Every camera swiveled to face me. I was wearing a simple dress and no makeup. My hair was pulled back in a messy bun.

Whispers erupted around me.

"Is that her? The stalker?"

"What is she doing here? Look at how she's dressed. No class."

I ignored them all. My eyes were fixed on the stage at the front of the room, where Ignatz and Everleigh were standing, holding hands.

Ignatz saw me, and his face tightened into a knot of anger. "Genevieve? What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed as I approached.

I didn't answer. I just held out the blue velvet box.

"You forgot this," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

Everleigh snatched the box from my hand and opened it with a gasp of delight. "Oh, Iggy! It's beautiful!"

She turned to him, pouting. "Put it on me. Right now."

Ignatz hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting between me and her. Then, his face hardened, and he took the necklace. His fingers brushed against her skin as he fastened the clasp.

Everleigh leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, her eyes locked on me the entire time. It was a declaration of victory.

I stood there, silent.

Then, she did it again. She let out a tiny gasp and staggered, pretending to lose her balance. "Oh!"

"Gen, I warned you!" Ignatz roared, lunging forward to steady Everleigh. He glared at me, his face contorted with rage. "Are you trying to hurt her?"

I said nothing. I just held out the divorce agreement I had been clutching in my hand.

He barely glanced at it. Everleigh suddenly clutched her stomach. "Iggy, I don't feel well. My stomach hurts."

"What?" His attention snapped back to her, all thoughts of me and the papers gone. "Okay, baby, okay. Let's get you to the hospital."

"The papers, Iggy," I said, holding them out again. "Sign them."

"Just sign it so she'll leave!" Everleigh moaned, pressing herself against him.

Without even reading it, he snatched a pen from a nearby table, scribbled his name on the line, and shoved the document back at me.

Then he swept Everleigh into his arms and started pushing his way through the crowd of reporters. "Let us through! It's an emergency!"

I clutched the signed papers to my chest and turned to leave. As I walked away, someone deliberately stuck out a foot.

I went down, hard.

My head hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. The world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain.

I heard gasps from the crowd. Through a haze of pain, I saw Ignatz stop and look back. He took a half-step toward me, his face a mess of confusion.

"Iggy, let's go!" Everleigh whined, tugging on his arm. "She's just faking it for attention."

He looked from me, lying on the floor with blood starting to pool around my head, to her. He hesitated for one more second.

Then he turned and left, disappearing into the flashing lights of the paparazzi.

I lay there, the polished floor cold against my cheek. My vision was blurring. People were staring, whispering, pointing. No one moved to help.

With a groan, I pushed myself up. My head was spinning. I realized my wedding ring was gone. It must have flown off when I fell. The ring that had been so loose on my finger. A symbol of a marriage that had been hollow for a long, long time.

I didn't even look for it.

Ignoring the stares and the cameras, I stumbled to my feet, my legs shaking. I walked, one foot in front of the other, out of the ballroom and into the street.

I flagged down a taxi. The driver's eyes went wide when he saw the blood on my face.

"Hospital?" he asked, his voice full of alarm.

I wiped a smear of blood from my cheek with the back of my hand.

"Yeah," I said, a grim smile touching my lips. "But I'm not gonna die."

The emergency room doctor was gentle as she stitched the gash on my forehead. "You need to be more careful," she said, her brow furrowed with concern. "A fall like that could have been much worse, especially..." She trailed off, glancing at my chart.

Before she could finish, the TV in the corner of the waiting area, which had been murmuring quietly, suddenly blared to life with a "Breaking News" graphic.

My face filled the screen. It was a grainy cell phone video of me on the floor of the ballroom.

"Sources inside the St. Regis claim Genevieve Ball, ex-girlfriend of mogul Ignatz Turner, staged a dramatic fall today in an attempt to win him back," the anchor said in a grave voice. "This comes on the heels of new reports alleging Ms. Ball has a history of erratic behavior and infidelity."

The world went dark at the edges. I gripped the side of the hospital bed to keep from fainting.

Before I could even process the slander, the door to my curtained-off cubicle was thrown open with a deafening bang.

Meredith Turner, Ignatz's mother, stood there, her face a mask of pure fury.

"You little whore!" she screamed, lunging at me. Her hand connected with my cheek in a vicious slap that sent my head ringing.

Before I could react, two large men, bodyguards I recognized, grabbed my arms. They hauled me off the bed, ignoring the doctor's protests.

"What are you doing? She's my patient!"

"Get out of the way," Meredith snarled at her, and they dragged me out of the hospital, my bare feet scraping against the pavement.

They threw me into the back of a black SUV and drove to an old, abandoned warehouse on the industrial outskirts of the city. They dragged me inside and threw me onto the filthy concrete floor.

"Kneel," Meredith commanded, her voice echoing in the cavernous space.

I tried to scramble away, but the bodyguards forced me down. My knees hit the cold, hard ground with a painful crack.

Meredith pulled out her phone and dialed. "Ignatz," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Your pathetic wife is here, making a scene. She's brought shame on our entire family."

I could hear Ignatz's panicked voice on the other end of the line. "Mom, what did you do? Where are you?"

"Don't you worry about it," she sneered. "I'm just teaching this little tramp the lesson you've been too soft to teach her. You can't be this soft, son. She's been cheating on you, playing you for a fool!"

"Ignatz!" I screamed, desperate for him to hear me. "It's not true! I'm pregnant! She's lying!"

There was a pause on the other end. Then, Ignatz's voice came through, low and defeated. "Gen... just do what she says. I'll make it up to you later. I promise."

The line went dead.

Hope died with it.

They left me there, kneeling in the stifling heat of the unventilated warehouse. Sweat and blood trickled down my face, dripping onto the dusty floor. Hours passed.

Then, a sudden, sharp cramp seized my abdomen. It was a pain so intense it stole my breath. I looked down. A dark, wet patch was spreading on the thin fabric of my dress.

No. No, no, no.

Panic, raw and primal, clawed at my throat. I scrambled to the massive steel door and banged on it with my fists.

"Help! Please, somebody help me! My baby!"

I could hear Meredith's voice from the other side, cold and dismissive. "What baby? That little bastard? Let it die. It was never welcome in the Turner family anyway."

"It's Ignatz's baby!" I shrieked, my voice cracking with desperation. "It's your grandchild!"

The only answer was the sound of her footsteps walking away, fading into silence.

I was alone.

I spent the night on that cold floor, bleeding in the dark, the pain in my belly a relentless, tearing agony.

When the sun came up, the door finally opened. One of the bodyguards looked down at me, his face impassive. "Mrs. Turner said we can take you to a hospital now."

The next thing I knew, I was on an operating table. The lights were too bright, the voices around me were muffled. I felt a profound coldness spreading through me, a sense of something precious being irrevocably lost.

As they wheeled me into a recovery room, my phone, which had been in my purse, buzzed on the bedside table. It was a text from Ignatz.

I'm so sorry, Gen. Mom went too far. But you have to understand her position. This has been so hard on all of us.

A single, hot tear slid from the corner of my eye and traced a path through the grime on my face. My fingers trembled as I picked up the phone.

A few hours later, a lawyer I didn't recognize delivered a crisp, white envelope. Inside was my divorce certificate, officially stamped. It was over.

I scrolled through my contacts, my thumb hovering over a name I hadn't called in five years. A name that represented a life I had thrown away.

I pressed the call button.

It rang twice.

"Well, look who it is," a deep, male voice said, laced with a familiar, teasing smile. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me."

"Kaleb," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I need help."

"I know," he said, his tone instantly serious. "I'm already on my way. Dad's with me. Just hang on, Gen. We're coming to bring you home."