Chapter 006

The sound of Damien’s laughter from the hallway sliced through me like a jagged blade. He was still on the phone with Jane. His voice was light, teasing, and full of a warmth he had never once offered me in five years.

My hands shook as I pulled the zipper on my suitcase. It was done.

I looked at the brown envelope sitting on the duvet. It looked so small, yet it held the weight of my entire failed life. Within those pages was the end of "Hazel and Damien."

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. No more tears. I had cried enough for a lifetime. If I stayed, I would eventually vanish until there was nothing left of me but a shadow in this big, cold house.

I pulled on a simple trench coat and grabbed the handle of my box. As I wheeled it toward the door, the bedroom door swung open.

Damien walked in, tucking his phone into his pocket. He still had that lingering smile on his lips, the one meant for Jane. When his eyes landed on my suitcase, the smile vanished. His face turned into a mask of cold iron.

"What is this, Hazel?" he asked. His voice wasn't soft anymore. The "guilt" from earlier was gone.

"I'm leaving, Damien," I said. My voice was surprisingly steady.

He let out a short, mocking laugh. "Leaving? Where? You have no family, no money, and nowhere to go. Stop acting like a child because I took a phone call."

He stepped closer, trying to loom over me, to make me feel small. It usually worked. But today, I felt different. I felt tall.

"I am not a child. I am a woman who is tired of being your second choice," I said. I picked up the envelope and held it out to him. "Sign these."

Damien’s brows knitted together. He snatched the envelope and ripped it open. As his eyes scanned the bold letters at the top PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE his face went pale, then red with fury.

"Divorce?" he hissed. "You’re asking me for a divorce? After everything my Grandpa did for you? You’re an ungrateful orphan, Hazel."

The word orphan stung, but I didn't flinch.

"Grandpa Walton wanted me to be happy, Damien. He didn't want me to be a ghost in a house where my husband brings his mistress into our bed. You haven't just broken our vows; you’ve spat on them."

"I told you I was sorry about the bed!" he shouted, stepping into my personal space. "What more do you want? I provide for you. You live in luxury. Most women would kill for this life."

"Then give this life to Jane. I'm sure she’s waiting for the vacancy."

I tried to move past him, but he grabbed my arm. His grip was tight, bordering on pain. "You aren't going anywhere. You’re making me look bad. The ink isn't even dry on Grandpa’s funeral arrangements. If you walk out now, the press will have a field day."

"Let them," I whispered. "I don't care about your image anymore."

Just then, the sound of clicking heels echoed on the hardwood floor outside. Jane appeared in the doorway, wearing a tight red dress that screamed for attention. She looked at my suitcase and then at the papers in Damien’s hand. A glint of pure triumph flashed in her eyes.

"Oh, Damien, is she finally leaving?" Jane asked, her voice like honey mixed with poison. She walked over and slid her arm through his, despite the divorce papers in his hand. "Maybe it’s for the best. She’s been so gloomy lately. It’s been ruining our mood."

Damien didn't push her away. He looked at her, then back at me. "See? Even Jane thinks you're being dramatic. Put the box away, Hazel. Go upstairs, take a nap, and we will pretend this never happened."

I looked at the two of them. My husband and his mistress, standing together in our home. It was the clearest picture of my reality.

"Sign the papers, Damien. Or I’ll see you in court. Mrs. Ivy is already handling the filing," I said.

I jerked my arm out of his grip. The strength of the movement made me stumble for a second. A sharp, pulling sensation throbbed in my lower abdomen. I gasped, pressing a hand to my stomach.

The baby.

I had to get out. The stress was going to kill my child before it even had a chance to breathe.

"I'm done talking," I said.

I grabbed my bag and began wheeling it toward the stairs. Damien shouted my name, but I didn't stop. I headed for the front door. Every step felt like I was shedding a layer of lead.

I reached the driveway and threw my box into the trunk of my car. My heart was racing. My stomach felt like it was being tied in knots. I got behind the wheel, my hands slick with sweat.

As I backed out, I saw Damien standing on the porch, his face a mixture of shock and rage. Jane was beside him, whispering in his ear, probably telling him to let me go.

I drove. I didn't know where, but I drove fast.

About twenty minutes later, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a terrifying coldness. A strange, wet sensation trickled down my thigh.

I pulled the car over to the side of a busy street. My heart hammered against my ribs. Shaking, I looked down at my lap.

My light-colored skirt was stained with a deep, terrifying crimson.

"No," I whimpered, clutching my stomach. "No, please, not the baby."

I tried to open the car door to call for help, but my vision began to tunnel. The world outside turned into a blur of gray and black. I managed to stumble out of the car, leaning against the cold metal for support.

"Help..." I gasped, but my voice was barely a whisper.

A tall figure appeared through the haze. A man in a dark suit. He caught me just as my knees gave out.

"Hey! Stay with me!" the man’s voice boomed. It was deep and commanding.

As I looked up, I saw a face that looked like it was carved from marble strong, handsome, and filled with sudden concern. I reached out, grabbing his expensive jacket with my blood-stained hands.

"Save... my baby..." I choked out.

Then, the darkness swallowed me whole.