Chapter 2

Tabitha's POV

I didn't pause to gather my thoughts. I just pushed the wood door wide open, letting it swing back until it smacked against the wall with a resounding thud.

The noise shattered the quiet room, and both of them froze instantly. Bradley turned his head first, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a glare the second his eyes landed on me. He didn't let go of Rachelle immediately. His hands lingered on her waist for a heartbeat, supporting her weight before he finally stepped back and cleared his throat.

"Tabitha?" Bradley asked, his voice dripping with disbelief and a hint of annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here? Why are you in this wing?"

I stood there, my fingers digging into the fabric of my hospital gown just to keep my hands from shaking violently. My voice felt incredibly small, but the hurt bled through anyway. "I called you, Bradley. I called you, and you told me that unless someone was literally dying, it could wait."

Before Bradley could even open his mouth to respond, Rachelle let out a soft, fragile gasp. She shrank back against the side of the luxury bed, her wide eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, Tabitha, please don't be mad at him," Rachelle whispered, her hands flying to her chest in a gesture of innocence. "It's my fault. I was outside the arena trying to leave after the practice session, and this crowd of reporters surrounded my car. They were flashing cameras in my face, shouting horrible things, and I got so overwhelmed that I actually felt faint. I almost passed out right there on the sidewalk. Bradley had to leave his meeting to bring me here."

Bradley stepped slightly in front of her, his large, athletic frame shielding her from my view. "She's been under a ridiculous amount of stress lately, Tabitha. The media won't leave her alone. I thought your call was just about dinner plans or something minor. I didn't think it was anything urgent."

A wave of bitter, icy nausea washed over my stomach.

I looked at Rachelle. She was sitting there on the edge of the plush bed, looking radiant despite her supposedly fragile state. The only medical thing on her entire body was a tiny, pristine white bandage wrapped around her delicate wrist. That was it. 

Then I looked down at myself. My hospital gown was rumpled, my bare legs were covered in dark purple bruises, and my arms were covered in raw, angry scrapes from the shattered glass of my windshield. I was exhausted, bleeding, and literally mourning the loss of our child, and my husband was standing guard over a girl who got dizzy from a few cameras.

Three years ago, Bradley was planning to marry Rachelle. They were the city's favorite power couple, dominating every headline. But his grandfather's dying wish changed everything. The old man insisted that Bradley marry me—the daughter of the man who had built the entire Norwood empire from the ground up alongside him. If Bradley didn't honor the promise, his grandfather threatened to cut him out of the family legacy entirely.

So, Bradley fulfilled that promise. He married me. And over those three years, I genuinely believed we were building a real life together. He was quiet, sure, and always focused on his hockey career, but I thought he had learned to love me. I thought the quiet mornings and the shared looks across the dinner table meant something. I thought Rachelle was ancient history.

But looking at the fresh bouquet of peonies on the table, the ugly reality slapped me right in the face. She was never truly gone. He had just kept her in the shadows until he didn't have to anymore.

A doctor walked into the suite a second later, breaking the suffocating tension. "Miss Pierce, your secondary vitals look perfect, but we have the private exit cleared so you can avoid the press downstairs."

Rachelle gave Bradley a tender, lingering look as she stood up. "Thank you for being here, Brad. I'll see you at the apartment later?"

"I'll call you in an hour," Bradley promised, his voice softening in a way he had never used with me.

Once the door clicked shut behind Rachelle and her doctor, the room fell into a freezing silence. I took a deep breath, trying to gather every single ounce of courage left in my broken body. I needed to tell him. I needed to say the words out loud—that I had been carrying his child, and that the accident had stolen that future away from us.

"Bradley," I said quietly, stepping further into the luxury suite. "I have something really important to tell you about today."

Bradley sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to face me. His expression was blank, his eyes like stone. "Actually, Tabitha, I have something I need to tell you first."

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, the throbbing in my head getting worse. "Go ahead."

Bradley stood straight, squaring his broad shoulders the exact way he did when he was facing a tough opponent on the ice. He looked detached.

"I want a divorce," he said.

The words cut through the air like a knife, knocking the remaining breath right out of my lungs. I froze, my heart dropping straight into my shoes. "What?" I whispered. "Why?"

"I honored my grandfather's final wish for three years, Tabitha," Bradley explained, his tone level, without a single hint of hesitation. "I did what was expected of me. I protected the family legacy, and I gave this marriage a real shot. But now that the three years are up and my promise is fulfilled, I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman I truly love. That woman has always been Rachelle. I'm not going to keep living a lie."

I felt like I was drowning in a pool of freezing water. The tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, hot and fast against my cold skin. "A lie? Bradley, did the last three years we spent together mean nothing to you? Did you never care about me at all?"

Bradley looked away, staring out the large window overlooking the city skyline. "I care about you, Tabitha. I really do. I care about you as family, but never as a wife. You're a good person, but you're just never going to be the woman I want to spend forever with. It's not fair to either of us to keep this going."

He turned back to look at me, reaching into his suit pocket. "I've already instructed my lawyers to draft a generous divorce settlement. You'll get the house, a significant portion of capital, and whatever else you want to ensure you're taken care of for the rest of your life. I want to make sure this is as smooth as possible for you."

A bitter, hysterical laugh threatened to tear out of my throat, but I choked it down. A generous settlement. He wanted to buy his way out of his guilt, using his billions to sweep me under the rug so he could run off into the sunset with his true love.

I looked down at my stomach, my hand trembling against the hospital gown. I had been about to tell him. I had been about to share the devastating news of our miscarriage, hoping for a shred of comfort, a shred of shared grief. But hearing him say those words—hearing him say that I was just an obligation, a family member he was paying off—something inside me snapped.

He didn't deserve to know. He didn't deserve to share in my grief or know that a piece of him had existed inside me. He had already checked out of our life before he even walked into this hospital.

"I don't want your money, Bradley," I whispered, my voice dead.

I didn't wait for him to answer. I didn't want to see the pity or the impatience in his eyes for another second. I turned around on my heels, ignoring the flare of pain in my abdomen, and quietly walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his bouquet of flowers.