CHAPTER 3

The stairwell doors slammed open above me. I knew those footsteps before I saw him. Heavy. Controlled. The same measured stride that used to steady me whenever I was afraid. Now, it only made my heart pound harder.

Sheriff appeared on the landing. For one foolish second, hope rose inside me. He was here. Maybe he would finally listen. Maybe he would see the blood. Maybe he would see me. Then I looked at Marie. She was already sobbing in a nurse's arms, her injured wrist held against her chest as though it were the most important thing in the room. There was barely a red mark on it. Nothing compared to what was happening to me.

I lay where I had fallen, my dress soaked dark, both hands pressed against my abdomen. Every breath hurt. The pain had become something alive inside me, twisting and tightening until I could barely think. "Sheriff—"

Marie's voice cracked. "She pushed me." She pointed toward the yellow envelope scattered across the concrete. "She found out I knew about the other man. Look—look at the folder!"

Sheriff's gaze dropped to the papers. Only for a moment. But I saw his expression change. The warmth disappeared from his face. His jaw tightened. His eyes became cold. I had seen Sheriff angry before. I had seen him distant. I had seen him ruthless in business meetings. But I had never seen him look at me like that. Like I was someone he had already decided was guilty.

I tried to move. Pain tore through my abdomen. A broken gasp escaped me. "Sheriff…"

His eyes finally shifted toward me. I stretched out one blood-slick hand. "The baby…" My voice cracked. "It's yours."

His face didn't change. "Please…" I swallowed against the metallic taste filling my mouth. "Help me."

For one heartbeat, our eyes met. I waited for him to come to me. To kneel. To ask what happened. Anything. Instead, he stepped over my wrist. He didn't take my hand. Didn't ask about the baby. Didn't even look at the blood beneath me. He bent down and lifted Marie into his arms. She immediately buried her face against his neck. The silver bracelet around her wrist caught the fluorescent light. The bracelet I had once pressed into a terrified boy's palm in the darkness. The bracelet that should have belonged to my memory. Not hers.

Sheriff held Marie closer. "Please," she sobbed against his chest. His voice was low and final. "Keep her here until the police take her statement. Marie needs immediate care."

Security moved in. Two men in black suits stepped between us. One crouched beside me, but even he seemed hesitant, as though he wasn't sure whether touching me would somehow make things worse. I stared past him. At Sheriff. At the man carrying another woman away while his own child might be dying inside me.

"Sheriff…"

My voice was barely there. He didn't turn around. He carried Marie toward the double doors at the bottom of the stairwell. Then he disappeared through them. The doors swung shut. Softly. Almost politely. And that sound hurt more than the fall.

I tried to push myself up. My elbows slipped against the floor. Pain exploded through my stomach so violently that white spots filled my vision. I collapsed again. My fingers scraped across the concrete, leaving thin red streaks behind.

For three years, I had convinced myself that Sheriff loved me somewhere beneath all his silence. For three years, I had found excuses for him. The late nights. The distance. Marie. The empty side of our bed. Every time he chose her, I told myself there had to be a reason. Maybe one day he would see me. Maybe one day he would understand. Maybe one day he would love me the way I loved him. But lying there in my own blood, I finally understood something. He had seen me. He simply hadn't chosen me.

The tears burning my eyes stopped. Not because the pain was gone. Because something inside me had finally gone quiet. The love I had spent three years protecting suddenly felt very small. Very fragile. And very far away.

I placed one trembling hand over my stomach. "I'm sorry," I whispered. I didn't know whether I was speaking to my babies or to the woman I used to be.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Nurses rushed around me. Someone called for a stretcher. Someone else shouted for the emergency team. But all I could hear was the sound of those stairwell doors closing behind Sheriff. He had chosen Marie. And as the blood continued spreading beneath me, the last warm piece of my heart finally turned to ash.