Her Hatred & Vengeance, Second Love

Elaine's POV

Caleb had called, insisting I come immediately. Now, I stood in the middle of the bar, my eyes wide with shock. An ominous feeling hit me like a wave.

The room was filled with strangers, all men, and Caleb sat among them. We’d been together a little over a year, and I’d loved him long before that. When the chance to marry him came, I’d sacrificed everything and seized it without hesitation.

At first, he seemed to love me back, showering me with everything I could have wanted, but he had suddenly changed. Now, I stood in a place I didn’t even realize was a bar until I stepped inside, and I already wanted out. Still, I asked him, “What's going on? Why did you call me here?”

Two men appeared behind me, looming, making me nervous and ratcheting up that ominous feeling.

“Strip,” Caleb said.

I gaped at him, then glanced around. Expectant eyes bored into me, all of them waiting for me to follow the command.

“Didn't you hear me?” Caleb asked. “I said strip.” His command held an authority I wished it didn’t.

I wanted to speak, but words failed me. I lowered my head, my hands trembling. Tears welled as I took a step backward, instinctively trying to flee.

“Stop her,” Caleb coldly commanded the men behind me. “And if she won’t do it herself, help her out of her clothes.”

They seized my arms, twisting them behind me and forcing me to my knees. A sharp pain shot from my wrists, followed by the sound of a faint crack. I barely registered the pain when one of them tore at my clothes.

Laughter erupted throughout the bar, sharp and mocking.

Shoes appeared in front of me, and I looked up to see Caleb staring down at me with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Why?” I choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Caleb’s face contorted in anger. “Why? Because you forced my grandfather to make me marry you. That’s why. If it weren’t for you, I’d have married Emily. But”—he lifted my chin roughly—“since you’re my wife, your body is mine to do with as I please, and so I will.”

He motioned to someone nearby.

I watched as the man approached, carrying a bottle of wine. My eyes widened in horror as I understood what Caleb intended.

“No. No, please, I can’t drink that. You know I can’t drink that!” Though rare, my allergy to alcohol was so severe that I could go into anaphylactic shock.

“Caleb, please!” I begged, struggling against the men holding me. But my pleas were met with cold indifference.

One of the men yanked my head back, forcing my mouth open, and Caleb poured the wine. The sharp burn of alcohol scorched my throat, and I gagged, spilling wine over my face and burning my eyes. My vision blurred as I gasped for air, choking between sobs.

By the time Caleb was done, more than half the bottle was gone. He tossed the rest aside, kneeling to smirk at me. “Not so bad, was it?”

“Caleb… You…” I coughed, my throat becoming scratchy. I put a hand to my lips. The swelling had already begun. “Oh, no,” I whispered, then scratched my suddenly itchy arms.

“Ca… Caleb…” I tried, despite my swelling tongue. I put a hand to my neck as my throat constricted.

I thought I saw a flicker of worry in Caleb’s eyes, but I was deluding myself. He didn’t care. Caleb had never cared.

My chest became tight as I struggled to breathe, gasping to take in air. But it wasn’t my chest that I clutched. It was my belly. Soon, my body would begin fighting to supply blood to my vital organs, and it would prioritize my survival over my baby’s. But I could barely think. All I could do was try to breathe.

Just then, a sharp cramp went through my stomach.

God no.

I gasped as I fought to stay conscious. “My… my stomach,” I forced out, but the words came out all wrong, slurred and strangled around my swollen tongue. Another sharp cramp passed through my abdomen. I collapsed to the floor and curled into the fetal position, clutching my stomach. “St…omm…ach…” I rasped, each sound scraping out as I pressed my hands to the ache growing inside me. “Help. Please.” I reached an arm out toward him.

“Help you?” Caleb sneered and then scoffed. “You made this mess, Elaine. Now, live with the consequences.” He curled his lip and stepped back in disgust.

Terror filled me as a warmth flooded the area between my legs—a sickening, thick wetness.

No, no! This couldn’t be happening.

I looked up at Caleb, hoping for a glimmer of compassion, but he recoiled, dialing a number.

The room grew darker as my consciousness faded. The last thing I heard was Caleb's voice. “Don’t let anyone know where she came from. Tell the doctors you found her bleeding on the road.”

Then, the world went black.

###

Some time later, I awoke in a sterile, white hospital room.

I hated white.

A doctor entered, clipboard in hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

I turned my head, refusing to answer.

“It’s okay,” he said delicately. “You don’t have to speak. I know your throat is still sore from the intubation.” He cleared his throat. “You know what’s happened?”

I shook my head solemnly. I didn’t need to hear the words, didn’t need a doctor to tell me my baby was dead.

The perceptive doctor got the message and switched gears. “Someone found you on the road and brought you in,” he said. “Oddly, they covered your medical bills and then left. Do you have family we should call or—?”

Just then, as though on cue, the door burst open, my mother and mother-in-law barging in.

The doctor held up his hands, trying to stop them. “I’m sorry, but it’s not visiting hours, and she’s still under observation. Please leave or—”

My mother stormed past the doctor, her eyes blazing with fury.