A damp chill clung to the Seattle air, the kind that seeps into your bones on a rainy night.

Just a week before my due date, a dark SUV materialized from the rain and slammed into me. The impact shattered my world. My water broke instantly, and I lay bleeding out on the wet pavement.

Before I lost consciousness, I called my husband, Chase Pierce, begging him to come quickly, to save our unborn daughter.

But his voice was ice. "What is this, another one of your stunts? Are you that desperate to ruin her big night?"

A moment later, I heard my son, Owen Pierce, shout over the phone, "You're always so dramatic, Mom! I hate it when you're like this!"

Chase ordered me to take a cab to the party alone, immediately. Then, he hung up.

The pool of blood beneath me blossomed in the rain as darkness swallowed me whole.

When I opened my eyes again, the doctor delivered the cruel news. "I'm so sorry. If you had gotten to the hospital just a little sooner, we might have been able to save the baby's life…"

I stared blankly at the ceiling, a hollow space where my heart used to be. It had died with my daughter.

I finally decided to leave them.

But now, they're the ones begging me to stay.

————————

1

At ten o'clock that night, Chase and our son, Owen, returned home. He pushed open the door to find the house shrouded in darkness.

He frowned, flicked on the lights, and demanded, "Chloe, you couldn't even order us a pizza?"

Before I could answer, he added, "Go warm up a glass of milk for Owen, and then make me a coffee."

He didn't know I'd been rushed into emergency surgery, that I was lying unconscious on an operating table, my body broken and my clothes soaked in blood.

He and Owen waited, but my usual swift compliance never came. A wave of irritation washed over him.

Owen called out toward my room, "Mom, where are you? I want some milk."

Hearing no reply, Chase's brow furrowed. He strode toward my room and snapped, "Have you lost your mind? Playing hide-and-seek? You're nine months pregnant, Chloe!"

He shoved open the door to my room, finding it just as dark. He flicked on the light, his eyes scanning the empty space. When he saw I was gone, his expression hardened.

He took out his phone and sent me a voice message. "Enough with the drama, Chloe. Stop using this baby to manipulate me. You need to get on Instagram and apologize to Blair right now. If you do, maybe I'll consider forgiving you."

Little did he know, I was lying on the operating table at that very moment. I faintly heard the notification chime from my phone but was powerless to reach it.

After waiting over ten minutes for my reply, he took Owen next door to my parents' house.

"Chloe isn't home. And she's not answering any of my messages, Caroline."

Hearing this, my mother, Caroline Donovan, frowned. "Chloe's been impossible ever since she got pregnant! It's our fault for spoiling her so much as a child."

Just then, my sister, Blair Donovan, turned to our parents with a look of remorse.

"Chloe must be upset that I scheduled my launch party a week before her due date. That's why she's not home. I'll call her right now and apologize, convince her to come back so you and Chase can stop worrying, Mom."

With that, Blair immediately pulled out her phone.

Caroline gazed at Blair, her expression softening with sympathy, an emotion both Chase and Owen mirrored.

Caroline reached out and gently patted Blair's back. "You're always so thoughtful, Blair—not like Chloe. She doesn't act like an older sister at all."

Chase chimed in sympathetically, "You did nothing wrong, Blair. You don't need to apologize to her. Chloe's hormones are clearly out of whack from the pregnancy. I'm sure she'll show up by her due date."

At Chase's words, Blair's fingers paused over her phone.

Owen buried his head in her arms, announcing in his soft, sweet voice, "You don't have to worry about Mom, Aunt Blair. Mom's just trying to scare Dad using the baby. She needs a time-out!"

A flicker of disgust crossed Blair's face as Owen hugged her, but she quickly smoothed it over, her expression a mask of troubled concern. "Alright, then. If you all think it's for the best..."

Together, they spent a quiet, cozy evening, completely oblivious to the fact that I was fighting for my life.

It wasn't until noon the next day that I finally regained consciousness. The first thing I did was summon a nurse, my voice a dry rasp. "My baby... was she saved?"

Pity clouded the nurse’s features. She couldn't meet my gaze. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice soft. "You lost a lot of blood. She was a strong little thing, but… we just couldn't save her."

Hearing her verdict, a deep chill washed over me, numbing me from the inside out.

In just one more week, I would have held my daughter. Now, I never would. I slowly closed my eyes as hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

Just then, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I thought it was from Chase. But when I fumbled to open it, I saw it was a message from Blair.

"How did it feel to get hit by an SUV, Chloe? It's a shame you didn't die along with your baby! Still, I'm glad you didn't make it to my brand launch party. I'd be even happier if you just disappeared from the face of the earth!"

My eyes shot open in shock. It was Blair. The crash... she had orchestrated the whole thing.

I had thought the car crash was a terrible accident. I knew Blair hated me, knew she loved making our parents and Chase choose between us, but I never imagined she wanted me dead.

I immediately messaged Chase: I want a divorce.

An hour passed. Then two. The silence on his end was deafening.

I followed up with another message: The baby is gone.

Before he could reply, my mother called. "Chloe, how can you be so irresponsible? Running away from home, missing Blair's launch party, ignoring all our calls?"

"Apologize to her right now for skipping her party!"

I was about to respond when I heard Blair's voice in the background.

"Mom, you shouldn't talk to Chloe like that. The baby is due next week; she's in no mood for a party. It was my fault for scheduling it now. I should be the one to apologize. I should have put her needs first."

Blair's voice trembled, thick with unshed tears.

"Is this what you wanted, Chloe? For everyone to feel sorry for you? If you've had your fill of drama, come home right now! You're almost nine months pregnant and still causing so much trouble!"

My mother's anger was a palpable force through the phone. She hung up before I could reply.

After Mom hung up, I called Chase myself. "Chase, I want a divorce."

There was a beat of silence before he asked, "Chloe, is this another one of your ploys for attention? I'm not falling for it this time. For our child's sake, you need to come home. Your due date is next week. I'll be by your side when you give birth."

"My baby is gone—"

He hung up before I could finish.

Not long after, I received a short, disappearing video from Blair. In it, she held up a finger with a minuscule cut. Chase was frantically searching for a bandage, his face tight with concern as he fussed over her.

She even added a caption, flaunting, "Some people are forever, and some are just replacements."

It was a bitter reminder of how he used to look at me with that same tenderness.

But ever since he met Blair, he had changed. He started swallowing Blair's lies whole, and soon, everything I did was wrong. He saw me as emotional, hysterical, the cruel older sister who bullied poor, fragile Blair.

He completely believed her version of me was the truth.

Because of Blair's claims, Chase and I argued constantly. And the worst part was, she would always appear at the perfect moment, apologizing profusely while painting herself as the innocent victim caught in the crossfire.

It was the same tactic she'd used to win our parents' favor as children, and now she used it to steal my husband.

Every time she took something that should have been mine, she would come to me to show it off, as if gloating that our parents and Chase would always choose her.

If this had happened in the past, my heart would have shattered. But now? I felt nothing. Just a cold, hard resolve to walk away and never look back.

I had my lawyer send Chase the divorce agreement via email.

Two hours later, I finally received his reply. It read, "Chloe, you're nine months pregnant. Your due date is almost here. Stop making these sick jokes about our marriage and our child. Don't bring this up again!"

Reading his response, I couldn't stop the tears. I wished so badly that losing the baby was just a sick joke, but the deep, hollow ache in my abdomen was a brutal, undeniable reality.