Chapter 0006

Charlotte's POV

Pain arrived first, sharp, nauseating, and unrelenting. A pulse behind my eyes, in my ribs, beneath my skin. It radiated from somewhere deep, somewhere sacred. I didn't know where I was. Only that I wasn't whole anymore.

Sunlight spilled through the blinds, carving golden lines across the sterile white ceiling. The scent of antiseptic filled the air. A heart monitor beeped methodically beside me, indifferent to what it was measuring.

Then the memory came crashing to me.

The hallway. My knees. The scream. The blood. Drake leaving with Mia draped around him.

My hands flew to my abdomen.

Flat. Empty. Silent. There was no heartbeat. It was never supposed to kick yet, but I was almost certain that I had felt it kick.

I didn't need a doctor to tell me. My body already had.

The baby was gone.

A muffled sound escaped my throat, a breath, a sob, a prayer, I wasn’t sure. But it pulled someone closer.

“Hey. You're awake.” The voice was soft, gentle, but it also sounded like she was tired.

I turned my head, every muscle resisting. Sabrina sat in the visitor chair, hunched, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, designer blouse wrinkled and stained with old coffee. She looked like hell, and for Sabrina, who once applied red lipstick before going to yoga, that said everything.

“You’ve been out for hours,” she added, her voice cracking around the edges. “I was scared.”

I tried to speak, but my throat burned. She noticed and reached for the water beside the bed, pressing the straw to my lips like a mother to a child.

I drank, wincing at how foreign the act felt.

Sabrina was my childhood friend, we were more like sisters than friends, but with the tears, we grew apart. Sabrina found a job at law enforcement and I…well, I chose to build a life with the Watson family.

“What happened?” I croaked, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears.

Sabrina hesitated. “You don’t remember anything?”

I blinked. The call. I had called someone…I didn’t know who, because I had thought about it.

My entire life revolved around the Watson incorporation and Drake Watson. I didn’t have the time to make friends, I was always working or going on business trips.

“I called you..” my voice trailed off and I blinked back the tears that threatened to fall as the image of Drake and Mia filled my head again.

She nodded slowly. “You did. You just groaned and didn’t say anything. I was worried. I sent an ambulance to your house since Drake wouldn’t take my calls. But they said you didn’t go home. I had to track your cellphone and that’s when I found out that you were here,” she let out a deep sigh. “Apparently, one of the patients in here found you unconscious outside the hotel room. You were already bleeding. Ruth…” She took a trembling breath. “It was bad.”

I already knew. But hearing it made the grief real. Like glass driving into skin.

“Did they…” I couldn't finish. The hope in my voice was so fragile it sounded like betrayal. “The baby…?”

Sabrina swallowed, squeezing my hand so tightly it hurt. “No, sweetie. They couldn’t save it. The doctor said it was the shock, the stress. You went into trauma. You lost too much blood too fast. What's going on, Ruth?”

I closed my eyes. A scream built inside me but refused to surface. It coiled in my lungs and strangled the oxygen before it reached my brain.

So that was it. I had carried a spark of life inside me. Something that was mine. Something innocent. And now it is gone.

Grief arrived like a thief, first robbing my breath, then my strength, then everything else.

I didn’t cry. Not right away. I just laid there. Letting the pain settle into my bones like marrow. Sabrina understood that I needed to be by myself. She asked no questions.

Then I asked the question that mattered most.

“Did Drake come?”

Sabrina’s face darkened.

I already knew the answer, but I needed it confirmed. Needed to know just how far gone he was.

“No.” Her voice was stiff, bitter. “He hasn’t called. Hasn’t checked in. Nothing,” she held my hand. “I texted him hours ago, to let him know that you were hospitalized and you’d lost the baby. But I didn’t get one damn response!” She sounded like she was trying to control her anger.

I nodded, as if that made sense. And in some twisted way, it did. Drake wasn’t the kind of man who rushed to hospital rooms unless there were cameras waiting outside. He preferred victories, not tragedies.

Six years of marriage, and this was what I had to show for it.

“I can’t believe I gave him everything,” I said quietly. “My family name. My network. My loyalty. Hell, I'm in my twenties.”

Sabrina wiped her eyes. “And he gave you betrayal, backroom deals, and a sidepiece with a press-ready smile,” she was quiet for a while. “I wish I could kill him!”

I chuckled without humor. “And now he has it all. The company. The penthouse. The narrative. Even Mia plays the loving girlfriend. I bet she’s already trying on wedding dresses.”

“So all of this is because of her return?” She scoffed. “I’ll tell you what. They’ve been in touch ever since she left.”

I sniffed.

Sabrina gripped my hand again. “You don’t have to stay in his story. You can write your own. Take half of what he built, half of what you built, and walk the hell away.”

“I want to,” I whispered. “But where do I go? What do I even do? I built my entire identity around him, I don’t even have a friend…I don’t even know what my hobby is.”

Sabrina leaned closer. “You have me, Char, always and You can always find out what you love doing, but you can’t get back lost times. So please…chase your happiness.”

I stared at the ceiling, numbness finally replaced by something stronger. Not hope. Not yet. But clarity. A desire to reclaim the pieces of me he tried to erase.

“I need to get my things,” I murmured. “From the penthouse.”

Sabrina’s expression sharpened with approval. “That’s my girl.”

^^^^

The Watson Tower gleamed against the July sky, all steel and smugness. The kind of building designed not just to house power, but to announce it.

I stepped into the private lobby and pressed my thumb to the biometric scanner.

Red light.

Access denied.

I tried again. Slower this time.

Still denied.

He locked me out. Of course he did.

It’s been five days since the miscarriage and I had decided that it was time to leave, take what was left and move far away, start a new life.

He never called one day, never even texted, and his family, they were the worst. I couldn’t believe that this was the same people that had treated me like a daughter, like a member of the family.

I should’ve expected it, but it still felt like a slap. I had curated that penthouse down to the last orchid, handpicked every square inch of art and marble. Now I was being treated like a trespasser.

I texted building security.

Minutes later, the elevator dinged.

Mia stepped out, her posture perfect, her hair freshly styled, lips painted a cruel red. I recognized the dress she was wearing, the latest Sophie armorage limited collection. Of course, she had always been like that, cladding herself in designers like armors.

“Oh,” she said sweetly. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

Liar. She’d been watching the cameras.

“I’m just here for my belongings,” I said, keeping my voice even.

Her mouth curved into a smirk. “You were. But unfortunately, I had the staff remove everything yesterday. They were such an eyesore. All that clutter.”

It hit like a punch, but I didn’t blink.

“Did Drake approve of that?”

“He trusts me to manage our home.” The word 'our' was a dagger. “He has more important things to focus on.”

I let the silence stretch between us. Then I smiled, a kind of smile that showed off my perfect teeth.

“That’s funny. He said the same thing to me six years ago.”

For the first time, Mia’s smirk faltered.

Good.

I turned and walked away, my back straight and heels steady.

He changed the codes. He let her push me away .

He hadn’t just chosen her. He had erased me.

I arrived at Watson Holdings with my resignation letter in one hand and six years of pent-up fury in the other.

I didn’t knock.

Drake looked up, startled. He sat behind his obsidian desk, his suit crisp, his tie perfect. Businesslike. Controlled. Exactly how he liked everything.

Except me.

“Mia said you came to the penthouse,” he said casually.

“I did.”

“She said you caused a scene.”

“Did she also tell you she threw out all my things?”

Drake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak. Coward.

I stepped forward and placed the envelope on his desk.

He stared at it like it might explode.

“What is this?”

“My resignation. Effective immediately.”

He blinked, thrown. “You're quitting?”

“I don't want your name. Or your money. Or your empire.”

Something flickered behind his eyes, maybe irritation, maybe disbelief. “You’re being dramatic. I didn’t say anything about your recent misconduct…taking days off without informing anyone…being unruly…”

“Congratulations, you got what you wanted.” my child was gone and there was nothing else worth fighting for.

“You’re being so dramatic today…”

“No, Drake. You were dramatic. Bedding your assistant, sending her to break the news like a war general dispatching a soldier. That's a drama.”

He stood now, his voice hardening. “You want to leave? Then by all means do! But you won’t last without me, Charlotte. Mark my words, "You've been living in a curated world I built.”

I laughed bitterly. “Correction. A world I built with you. My connections opened your doors. My presence secured your deals. You married me for a deal, the deal that made Watson holdings what it is today. I deserve some shares in this company, but I didn’t ask for that…but you…you pushed me away like this.”

He flinched, ever so slightly.

“You’re not the man I married,” I said, voice low. “And I’m not the woman you get to silence.”

I turned to leave.

But his voice followed me.

“Mia told me you cried.”

I froze.

“She said you sobbed in the hallway.”

The way he said it, almost softly, almost curious.

I didn’t look back.

“I guess you’ll never know,” I said.

I kept walking.

But before I reached the door, I stopped.

Because I saw them.

On the desk.

Divorce papers.

His signature already on the final page and the date? It was on the day I had the miscarriage.

I stared at them, numb.

So this had been planned. Not a reaction. A decision. Pre-meditated. Calculated. Just like everything else he did.

He had already let me go, long before I had the chance to leave.

I slipped off my ring and placed it beside the papers. The platinum glinted under the overhead light like something mocking.

Then I turned.

For good this time.