Chapter 4

I flushed the toilet and slumped against the bathroom wall, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Morning sickness without the pregnancy was another cruel reminder of what I'd lost. My doctor had warned Me about this, how My body might still think it was pregnant for a while. The physical symptoms linger as unwelcome ghosts.

A sharp knock rattled the bathroom door. "Dani? You've been in there twenty minutes. You okay?"

"Fine, Janet ." I splashed cold water on my face, avoiding my reflection. "Just give me a minute."

When I emerged, Janet was setting breakfast on the coffee table. The smell of toast turned my stomach, but the sight of Janet’s worried face was worse. She'd been staying over three nights a week since the hospital.

"You need to eat something," Janet insisted, pushing a plate toward her. "Doctor's orders."

"I'm not hungry." I sank onto the couch, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Tough. Eat anyway."

I picked up a piece of toast and nibbled the corner without tasting it. My phone buzzed from the counter. Detective Ripley again.

"That's the third time she's called this morning," Janet observed, eyeing the vibrating phone. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

I silenced the phone without looking at it. "No point. The investigation's going nowhere."

"You don't know that"

"I do know that." I slammed my mug down, coffee sloshing over the rim and staining the table. "The detective called yesterday. Sam changed The story."

Janet's eyes widened. "What? Why would he do that?"

"Why do you think?" I snapped. "Alex probably lied to him to make him do it since he already detests me he would be willing to lie."

"That's"

"Fucked up? Yeah." I grabbed her laptop from the side table, opening it to the dozens of job listings I'd been scrolling through all week. "I need to focus on getting back on my feet. Can't fight billionaires without a paycheck."

Janet sat beside me, scanning the screen. "Senior Content Coordinator? Social Media Manage?“

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"You're not a beggar, Dani. You're a victim."

I snapped the laptop shut. "Don't call me that. I'm not a victim. I refuse to be one."

"Fine." Janet raised her hands in surrender. "You're a survivor, then. But you need to talk to someone. The therapist the hospital recommended"

"I'm not sitting in some stranger's office explaining how I feel about losing my baby." The words echoed in the small apartment, hanging in the air between us.

Janet recoiled as if slapped. "I'm just trying to help."

I slumped my shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry." I reopened my laptop, forcing my voice to soften. "Help me with these applications instead? Your cover letter game is stronger than mine."

"Sure." Janet's smile was cautious. "But Dani, at some point"

"Not now, Janet. Please."

We worked in silence for an hour, the tension thick between us. When Janet's phone chimed with a reminder for her shift at the hospital, I felt guilty relief.

"I can cancel," Janet offered, gathering her things. "Call in sick."

"Don't be ridiculous. Go I would be ok on my own."

At the door, Janet hesitated. "Promise you'll at least think about calling the therapist? Or coming to stay with me for a while?"

"I promise to think about it," I said, knowing she wouldn't.

After Janet left, I paced the apartment, too restless to sit, too exhausted to leave. My phone rang again. Detective Ripley wasn't giving up.

Against my better judgment, I answered. "Any miracles to report?"

"Ms. Reyes." Ripley's voice was professional but strained. "I've been trying to reach you."

"I've been busy." I moved to the window, staring at the street below. "Job hunting. Trying to put my life back together."

"I understand. I wanted to update you personally." Ripley paused. "The DA is concerned about evidence problems in your case."

"Meaning Alex got to them too?"

Silence on the line.

"Just tell me straight, Detective is there any chance at all?"

Another pause. "Without more evidence or witnesses, the DA doesn't think we can get an indictment, let alone a conviction."

I closed her eyes. "So that's it? He drugs me, I lose my baby, and nothing happens to him?"

"I'm not giving up," Ripley insisted. "These cases... they take time. We might find new evidence"

"What they take is money and connections, neither of which I have." I pressed her fingers against her temple, fighting a growing headache. "But he has plenty of both."

"Ms. Reyes Daniela. I believe you. I'm on your side."

"That's sweet, Detective. Unfortunately, the law isn't." I hung up before Ripley could respond.

The apartment felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in. I grabbed her jacket and keys, needing to move, to breathe air that didn't feel contaminated with loss and injustice.

Outside, the early spring evening was cool, the street busy with people heading home from work. Normal people with normal problems. I walked without direction, just needing to be in motion.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Janet: "Made you a therapy appointment for Thursday. Will pick you up at 3. No arguments."

I shoved the phone back into my pocket without responding. I walked until my feet hurt, until the streetlights came on until my breathing finally slowed.

When I returned home, I took a scalding shower, scrubbing my skin raw as if I could wash away the last month. Then I tried to sleep but kept jerking awake due to nightmares. At 3 AM, I gave up and returned to job applications, feeling l was begging for scraps from a life that used to be mine.

By dawn, I'd applied to seventeen positions. None of them were what I wanted, but all of them were escape routes from the prison my life had become.