SHE'S PREGNANT

Laura

The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the sterile VIP suite.

I stared at the white ceiling, my side burning with a dull, throbbing ache. It had been three days. Three days since the surgeons took a piece of my liver and put it into my husband’s body.

The door clicked open. I weakly pushed myself up, a hopeful smile automatically forming on my cracked lips.

"Hemsworth?" I whispered.

But the man who walked in wasn't my husband. It was Marcus, his sleek, overworked personal assistant, holding a cellophane-wrapped fruit basket.

My smile fell. "Marcus. Where is he?"

Marcus wouldn't meet my eyes. He set the basket on the bedside table. "Mr. Deluca sends his best, Laura. He wanted me to make sure the nurses are treating you well."

"He sent you?" My voice broke. "It's been three days, Marcus. He hasn't called. He hasn't visited once. I just gave him an organ."

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his designer glasses. "He’s incredibly busy, Laura. You know how the industry is. He’s in a closed-door meeting with the CEO of Paramount. They're greenlighting that new sci-fi franchise, and he needs to secure the lead role before the trades leak it to Deadline."

"A movie," I said flatly, the numbness spreading from my incision to my heart. "He's negotiating a movie while I'm lying here."

"His PR team is spinning a story about him retreating to a wellness center for exhaustion," Marcus added, completely missing my pain. "He can't risk anyone seeing him here. I'll arrange a private car to take you back to the penthouse when you're discharged."

"No," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The pain flared, but I ignored it. "I don't want to go to that empty penthouse."

I needed comfort. I needed someone who actually cared about me. Ember. My best friend had been leaving me voicemails for weeks, complaining that I was a terrible friend, that I never had time for her anymore since Hemsworth's award season started. I'd go to her place. I wanted to surprise her. I needed a shoulder to cry on.

An hour later, I was standing in the hallway of Ember’s upscale apartment complex. My father paid her rent, but I never brought it up. I just wanted my friend.

I raised my hand to knock, but the door was already cracked open.

I pushed it slightly, intending to yell surprise. But the word died in my throat.

"You promised me, Hem. You said you'd drop her the minute the surgery was done."

Ember’s voice. Whiny. Demanding.

"I am dropping her, Em. Relax."

Hemsworth's voice. Strong. Healthy. Not at all like a man recovering in a wellness center.

I froze, my hand clutching my bandaged side. I pushed the door open wider, stepping into the entryway.

They were in the kitchen. Hemsworth was leaning against the marble island, fully dressed in casual designer clothes, looking perfectly fine. Ember was standing between his legs, her arms wrapped around his neck.

My overnight bag slipped from my hand and hit the hardwood floor.

Thud.

They both turned.

Ember let out a loud, frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes. She didn't jump back. She just stayed right where she was.

Hemsworth looked at me. There was no shock. No guilt. His dark eyes were completely cold.

"What are you doing here, Laura?" he asked, his tone dripping with annoyance, as if I had just interrupted a business meeting.

"What am I..." I choked on the air. My vision blurred. "You... you're supposed to be recovering. You told Marcus..."

"I pay Marcus to manage my schedule, not to babysit my mistakes," Hemsworth cut in bluntly. He gently pushed Ember aside and took a step toward me. "You shouldn't be here."

"I shouldn't be here?" The betrayal felt like a second knife tearing into my abdomen. "She's my best friend! And you... that text. In the closet. The red lingerie. It was her."

"Finally caught up, did you?" Ember crossed her arms, a nasty smirk playing on her lips. "God, Laura, you're always so slow. It's exhausting."

"How could you?" I sobbed, clutching my stomach as the physical and emotional pain collided. "I paid your rent, Ember. I loved you like a sister. And Hemsworth... I just saved your life!"

Hemsworth let out a cruel, humorless laugh. "Don't act like a martyr, Laura. Your father bought my career, so I paid my dues. I gave you three years of my life. I played the devoted husband behind closed doors. The surgery? Consider that the final payment on my debt to your family."

"You're a monster," I whispered, shaking my head. "Both of you. I'll ruin you. I'll go to TMZ. I'll tell The Hollywood Reporter everything. The fake marriage, the cheating, the surgery..."

Ember actually giggled. "Tell them what, Laura? That the fat, ugly duckling couldn't keep her movie star husband satisfied?"

Hemsworth stepped closer, towering over me. The sweet boy I had a crush on since childhood was entirely gone. "Look at yourself," he sneered, looking me up and down with pure disgust. "You think anyone is going to side with you? The sight of you makes me sick, Laura. It always has. You're pathetic. You're a charity case I dragged along because I had no choice."

I staggered back, the harsh words hitting me like physical blows.

"And besides," Ember chimed in, resting a hand on her perfectly flat stomach. "You can't ruin our news."

"What news?" I breathed.

"I'm pregnant," Ember said proudly. "We're having a baby. A real family."

The room spun. The floor seemed to drop out from under me.

"Don't bother calling the media," Hemsworth said, his voice dropping into that arrogant, commanding tone he used on set. "My publicist is already releasing an exclusive to Vanity Fair tonight. We're announcing our engagement."

"You're married to me!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face.

"Not for much longer," he replied coldly. "My lawyer will get in touch with you by tomorrow morning. Sign the divorce papers, Laura. Take the settlement. Go back to your father and eat yourself into a coma for all I care. Just stay out of my life."

I couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in. The man I loved, the friend I trusted—they had butchered my heart and fed it to the dogs.

I turned and ran.

"Laura, close the door on your way out!" Ember called after me, laughing.

I burst out of the apartment building, sobbing so hard I couldn't catch my breath. The pain in my side was excruciating, but I didn't care. I just needed to get away. I stumbled to my car, fumbling with the keys, my hands shaking violently.

I threw myself into the driver's seat and slammed my foot on the gas.

The city streets blurred into streaks of grey and neon. Tears completely blinded me. Hemsworth's cruel voice echoed in my head. The sight of you makes me sick. You're pathetic. I'm pregnant.

I didn't see the red light.

I didn't see the sleek, black Maybach pulling into the intersection.

CRASH.

The impact threw me violently against the steering wheel. The airbag exploded in my face. Glass rained down like ice. My head slammed against the side window, and a blinding flash of white hot pain ripped through my skull.

Everything went silent. The world faded to a dark, fuzzy grey.

I was slumped over the wheel, blood trickling down my forehead, my chest barely rising.

Through the shattered window, the sound of heavy footsteps crunched on the broken glass. A shadow fell over the car.

The door was wrenched open with terrifying force.

The scent of expensive pine and rain filled the smoky air. A large, warm hand gently touched my jaw, tilting my face up.

"Are you okay?"

The voice was deep. A rich, commanding baritone that sent an electric shock straight through my numb body.

I struggled to open my eyes, catching only a blurry glimpse of piercing, dangerous blue eyes and a sharp jawline before the darkness completely dragged me under.