Chapter 3.

The night was long and cold. Clarissa had barely moved from the cold floor where her strength gave out. Her face was stained with dried tears, and blood stains on her lips. Amidst her thoughts and pain, she slipped into a restless sleep.

The sound of the door crashing open jolted her awake. Easton who had left earlier, stormed in like a madman, his eyes were bloodshot and lips curled in disdain. Before she could speak, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to her feet.

"Get up," he growled.

"What—what are you—?" Her voice cracked, but he didn't answer. She barely had time to grab her shoes as he dragged her out of the house barefoot.

The sky was still dark, it wasn't even up to 7 Am. Despite her questions, Easton continued to pull her out of the house and into his Lamborghini, stuffing her in like a trash bag.

"Easton,let me go," Clarissa whined but he remained defiant.

Clarissa seeks answers. "Where are we heading to in this ungodly hour?? What are you up to??"

Her words seemed to have fallen into an abyss, Easton remained mute as he focused on driving. She didn't dare ask again. His silence was heavy, like a silent warning. One more word from her could earn her a punch.

They arrived at the hospital without a word. Like a child with no will,Clarissa was dragged out of the car by Easton. A nurse was waiting outside, Clarissa turned to look at Easton with confusion on her face. Two more nurses emerged with a gurney.

Clarissa's eyes widened. "Easton... what is this?"

No answer.

"Wait, I don't understand—" Her voice was cut short as the nurses seized her arms and strapped her to the bed.

"Easton!" she screamed, fighting. "What is happening?!" Her brows were joined tightly, not sure what was happening and what the nurses were going to do with her. Either way, she was sure she wouldn't like it.

"You'll save her," Easton said flatly, finally meeting her eyes. "Mia needs blood. Else, she might die."

Clarissa's heart stopped.

"I—what? You brought me here for her? She was treated in California, why does she need blood now, moreover, my blood??" She screeched.

"Mia fell sick again. You're the only compatible donor around. And she needs it now."

"I don't consent to this—let me go!" Clarissa yelled as she struggled to be freed.

But her voice wasn't heard, her strength was beneath the nurses' movements. Against her will, she was transferred to a ward.

A male doctor approached with a syringe, and her fear of syringes immediately kicked in.

"No-no-no..." she shook her head in denial, dread filling her. Her body almost convulsed when the doctor pierced her arm with the needle.  The prick of the needle stung, sharp and swift. Fear seeped into her veins with every draw of her blood.

"Stop—please—!" she sobbed. "You can't do this—Easton, please!"

But he stood there, unmoved, like a statue carved from cruelty. He just stared down at her like she was a toy made to fulfill every one of his wishes.

The last thing she saw was the ceiling light turning blurry before everything went dark.

A few minutes later, Clarissa woke to silence. Her throat was dry as if she hadn't drank water in months, her limbs were sore. Her head felt foggy like she'd been underwater.

Her eyes went down to her garment and they bulged out in shock, there were blood stains on her dress.

'What happened to me??' Her hands went down to her dress, she felt a splitting pain down there as if she just had a terrible cramp.

Just then, a doctor walked in quietly, clipboard in hand. His face was gentle—but the kind of gentle people wore before delivering news meant to shatter you.

"Mrs. Maddox, you're okay now," he said softly, making Clarissa stare at him with numerous questions to ask.

"What happened to me?? Why do I feel like I was split apart?? It hurts." Clarissa bombarded the questions at the doctor.

"Mrs Maddox, You had a... complication during the transfusion. I'm deeply sorry, but... you lost the baby."

The words didn't register at first.

Clarissa blinked. "Baby?"

He nodded with a grave expression. "You were in the early stages of pregnancy. The strain on your body... it was too much."

A sharp, piercing silence filled the room. As if her ears were playing tricks on her, Clarissa couldn't quite form her words.

"I didn't even know..." she whispered. Her hand slowly moved to her stomach.

She had a baby. A child she never knew existed. A part of her. A part of Easton.

Gone.

A sob caught in her throat—but no tears came. Maybe she ran out of them. Just an emptiness that wrapped itself around her heart like chains.

The door creaked open, and Easton walked in with his all self-serving glory.

She turned to him slowly, expecting... something. An apology. Regret. Anything. Just anything...

But he stood there with arms folded, his expression flat.

"Mia's stable now," he said. "You did the right thing." That was it, no remorse whatsoever.

Clarissa stared at him, the hollowness in her eyes was louder than any scream.

"You used me," she said hoarsely.

"You saved a life," he replied without hesitation. "It was necessary."

"I lost a child," she whispered, barely audible. "My child."

He didn't flinch. "You wouldn't have kept it anyway."

His words felt like a punch to her chest.

'Would I have kept it??' That question lingered in her mind that she didn't realize when Easton left just as he had come. Clarissa wouldn't want to keep a fatherless child, that wouldn't look good for her child. Then was it a good thing that she lost it?? No.

Clarissa just lay there, motionless, as the door shut behind Easton. The machines beeped quietly. Outside the window, the sun was rising—but inside her, it was midnight.

The pain wasn't just emotional. It was physical. An ache in her womb, in her chest, in her soul. No one knew. No one cared.

Not even the Brown family she grew up in. The people who were supposed to be family happen to be thorns on her flesh too. They all love Mia, they could sacrifice her like a lamb to save their dear Mia.

She was a prisoner in every sense.

Tears finally spilled down her cheek. Silent and endless rivers of grief.

She had loved a man who never saw her.

Carried a child who would never see the world.

And now, she had nothing.

But somewhere within her, in her soul, something began to stir. A seed of rage. Of faint strength. Of something she didn't have before.

Not hope. Not yet.

But the beginning of it.