6 — HE WILL ALWAYS CHOOSE HER.

Thump! Thump! Thump!!

My heart pounds like an out-of-control samba drum as panic bubbles in my bloodstream.

There’s a shrill sound in the air. It’s Claire, and she’s still crying.

“Nathan, I’m hurt! Please, come here. I need you!”

I shut my eyes, feeling my thighs itch as more sticky fluid rolls down my sensitive skin. From what I can make out through my bleary vision, Claire is standing upright and she seems fine.

Is she aware that I hit my stomach on the sewing machine? Is she aware that I stand on the verge of losing my child?

The sound of the attic doors flying open is like music to my ears. Footsteps thunder into the room, followed by Nathan’s deep voice laced with worry,

“Sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Claire, you’re bleeding!” Mrs. Montessori screeches.

If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would’ve rolled my eyes. Claire hasn’t sustained any major injuries and her mother is acting like she developed a brain tumour.

“Astrid and I w-were just t-talking when a b-basket filled with…old stuff fell on us from the top sh-shelf. I fell down and hurt my arm!

Nathan, please take me to the hospital. I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack. I can’t breathe.”

A basket of old stuff? Bitch, what?

I expect everyone else in the room to call her out on the obvious lie, but Nathan’s next words leave me frozen to the spot;

“This old basket?” He asks, followed by the sound of something flying across the room. Did he kick it?

“I told Astrid several times to get rid of it but she stubbornly refused. Now look what’s happened!”

Oh, so now it’s my fault? Typical.

“There’s no time to waste,” Mrs. Montessori cuts in. “Nathan, take Claire to the hospital immediately!”

I open my mouth to speak but pain shoots through my entire body and all that leaves my lips is a slight whimper. Thankfully, it’s enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“What about me?” I whisper, hating how helpless I sound.

So far, they’ve all been acting like I’m not in the room.

Nathan takes one look at the blood on my thighs and his face turns as pale as a sheet;

“Astrid, you’re bleeding…!”

He takes a step in my direction but Claire grabs his arm, staring at him with tear-filled eyes; “Nathan, I need to get to the hospital right now.” She sobs, sagging against him like a damsel in distress. “We need to leave. I don’t feel so good…”

Tears of disappointment prick my eyes at the familiar look on Nathan’s face.

Deep down, I know that he would never choose me over Claire, but I still need to try to save my baby.

“I’m pregnant, Nathan.” I whisper brokenly, watching as his eyes widen in part shock, part horror.

“I bashed my belly on the sewing machine. I need to see a doctor right now. Please, help me…help our child…”

It hurts that I have to beg the father of my unborn baby to step up and perform his duty. My helpless, desperate tone fills my throat with bile.

“You’re p-pregnant?” Nathan asks, taking another step forward.

I never planned on revealing my pregnancy like this. Now I’m scared to death that I might lose my baby.

“Please, take me to the hospital. I don’t feel so good…”

It’s obvious that Nathan still cares about me. His resolve is wavering and the coldness in his eyes is gone.

However, before he can say a word, Mrs Montessori steps forward with a phone in a hand.

“Nathan, take your fiancée to the hospital. Don’t worry about Astrid. I’ll call 9-1-1.”

“But they might not make it in time!” I cry, trying to appeal to him. “I’m bleeding. Please…”

Claire pulls Nathan towards the door and my heart breaks into a million jagged pieces when he gives me one last apologetic look.

I lie in a pile of dusty rubble and watch the man who was once the love of my life swing another woman into his arms and hurry out of the attic.

Once again, I’ve been abandoned. Tossed aside like yesterday’s trash.

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and soak into the pile of rotting wood beaneath me. Of course, Mrs. Montessori does not hesitate to rub salt in my injuries;

“Did you really think he would choose you? How pathetic…”

I turn my face away and say nothing. Even if I had something to say, my throat feels too tight with the weight of anger, pain and hatred.

Mrs. Montessori does not lift a finger to help me, so I lie there bleeding for fifteen minutes while waiting for the ambulance.

By the time the paramedics arrive, I’m already numb.

I do not feel anything when they load me into the ambulance and rush me to hospital. I’m still numb as the doctors and nurses hover over me, asking questions I cannot understand.

But when the doctor says; “I’m sorry, Miss Reyes, we tried our best but we could not save the baby,” the numbness is replaced with pain.

Pain so indescribable, it fills my heart with something dark, vain and twisted.

Revenge.

There and then, while I lie on that hospital bed, I make a vow to myself — I will have my revenge, even if I have to die in the process.

***

ONE WEEK LATER…

It’s been a week since I lost my baby. One week since I started mourning the loss of something I never even got the chance to cherish.

Nathan has been blowing my phone nonstop with apology texts and requests to meet up sometime to “discuss our future.”

I would rather trek through Time Square buck ass naked.

“So you guys are definitely going to the club tonight!” My best friend, Zeya, screeches excitedly at my other best friend, Gemini, over their video call.

“What do you think of this dress, Gem? Won’t Astrid look like a total, delicious slut in this?”

She holds up a sheer gold dress that is so indecent, it should be illegal.

“Yes, the dress is absolutely perfect… if she’s auditioning for the position of a hooker in a crappy TV show. People would definitely be able to see her boobs and crotch from a mile away in that thing.” Gemini says dryly.

“Oh, keep your mouth shut!” Zeya sulks. “Your little knowledge about fashion wouldn’t even fill a tin can of condensed milk!”

My lips tingle with the hint of a smile as I listen to their animated banter.

Zeya and Gemini are the only reasons I haven’t offed myself in the past seven days. They made it their mission to make sure I didn’t grieve too hard. So far, they’ve succeeded.

Zeya found the Femme Fatale club tickets earlier today and immediately went into matron mode.

In her words; “you need to let the world see you again, bestie. Maybe you’d find a man who would fuck you six ways to to Sunday and forget all your sorrows for one night!”

I admit that I shouldn’t be using sex as a means to “forget my sorrows,” but I’m dying inside. I need to feel something… anything.

So I’m going to Femme Fatale tonight.

Who knows, I might just run into my anonymous stranger…

***

SILVAN ROURKE

The last time someone unlocked my predatory side, it didn’t end well. People died.

For the past ten years, I’ve fought so bloody hard to keep that part of me hidden, but Astrid Montessori destroyed my self restraint and unlocked a demon inside of me, all within three seconds of meeting her.

I’ll never forget her not-so-bright, innocent smile when my father first introduced us,

“Nathan, this is Astrid, your step-sister. She’ll be working here as an intern. I hope you'll take the best care of her.”

Of course I later discovered that my father and Catrina had adopted her since she was sixteen, and I only found out about her existence four years later, when she turned twenty.

When she smiled at me… holy fucking airball. Those bewitching almond eyes nearly had my heart beating again. And that organ has been dead for ten years.

That was the beginning of my forbidden obsession.

It was obvious that her bright smile hid secrets and trauma that were almost as dark as mine. Maybe that is what drew me to her — the idea that she was broken. Just like me.

I didn’t listen to my father, however. I didn’t take care of her.

Instead, like the bloody coward that I was, I relocated to Manhattan where it was safe; where I could suppress the guilty, forbidden thoughts of nailing my step sister to the nearest wall and sinking my cock into her wet pussy until she sang my name like a bloody hymn…

I stayed away even when she sent me an invitation card to her wedding with that waste of space, Nathan; even when I was tempted to hop on the first flight and finish him off with my bare hands for even daring to marry the one person whom I claimed as mine.

When I finally returned to New York a week ago, I planned to avoid Astrid like the plague.

But when my father asked me to accompany them to her anniversary dinner, I found myself saying yes, unable to refuse.

Last I heard, she just went through a messy divorce and I should be sympathetic towards her.

But all I feel is joy, and a weird sense of anticipation.

This time, I will not cower. I do not care if I’m breaking the rules, but no one will stop me from having Astrid in my bed.

I expected her at my club a week ago. When she didn’t show up, I almost went on a savage killing spree in the city.

Every night for the past week, instead of working as I should be, I always find myself at Femme Fatale, waiting hopefully for my cloudy ray of sunshine to walk through that door.

My wishes are finally granted when Stefan walks into my private booth and announces;

“Sir, your special guest is here.”

Heart thumping like a runaway train, I make my way to the balcony to see for myself.

There she is. I exhale sharply to ease the throbbing pressure in my chest as I watch her glide through the crowd.

But my excitement turns into anger when I notice the tall man behind her, leading her gently through the throng of people with a hand on her waist.

“Stefan…!”

“Yes, sir.”

“The man behind my guest, I do not care how you do it, but I need that bastard out of my club. Now!”