"That's the real other woman!

"A woman who shields the mistress has no right to call the victim one!"

"You—!"

Claudia shoved me hard.

But she didn't seem to realize we were standing at the top of the staircase.

I didn't see it coming.

My body tilted sideways.

And I fell.

"Desi!"

Brad's voice.

I didn't remember how long I tumbled.

When I finally stopped, the pain in my abdomen was blinding.

Claudia stared down at me, eyes wide.

Then she turned to look at her son.

Brad's hand was still frozen in midair, outstretched, as if to catch me.

Claudia's eyes seemed to ask:

Why didn't you catch her?

The son of a martial arts dynasty would have had the reflexes to catch his own wife. There was no question about that.

His hand had reached out.

And stopped halfway.

Had he realized, in that split second, that he shouldn't catch me?

Before I blacked out, I saw Claudia clutching fistfuls of her own hair, dialing 911.

When I woke up, the voice recorder was gone.

Along with my baby.

Brad was sitting at my bedside.

"I'm sorry, but that recording... it can't get out.

"People would get the wrong idea about Margot."

And then I understood exactly why he had pulled his hand back.

I closed my eyes. "Get out."

"Desi, we can still have children. We'll—"

"Get. Out."

He left.

And Margot walked in.

Her belly was already beginning to show.

She smiled at me. "Sweetie, he lied to you. You two were never going to have children."

I called for a nurse to throw her out.

The room was empty.

Inch by inch, I dragged myself across the bed and reached for my phone.

I opened the surveillance app.

Every second of my fall down those stairs was there, ready to replay.

Brad had no idea that on the very first day I moved in, I'd installed a hidden camera.

I dialed a number and spoke:

"I have some dirt on Brad Vance. Interested?"