Betrayal Stings.

ARIA'S POV

The car screeched to a halt in front of the palace of a house. I ducked out, my fingers gripped tightly on my bag.

I didn't need a soothsayer to know my fate. I had left the house without asking Zane, and now he was back before me.

My other hand held my belly bump.

"Calm down, Aria. Tension isn't good for our little Christabel." I whispered, walking into the oddly quiet mansion.

My shoe softly collided against the white marble, and the twine beads I wore shimmered as the chandelier cast its rays on me.

Nervously, I made my way to my room. I needed a second before I faced Zane.

He wouldn't hit me; he had only done that when he was drunk. I didn't blame him; he had lost a huge deal, and I kept urging him to eat. Well, that was in the past, more accurately, two months ago.

I unwrapped my hand from my bag and gripped the rails. I needed all the support I could get if I were to climb these 25 stairs without fainting. It all seemed good and healthy, but once I got pregnant, it felt like hell. I had begged Zane to get an elevator built; he said he would.

That had been three months ago.

Lord, help me.

That seemed to work.

Thankfully, our room was close to the stairs, the second on the right.

My footsteps echoed through the vast hall. The air was chilling; it wasn't the usual dreaded aura. This was different. The wind was dense, heavy with the weight of unspoken words, of warnings I chose to ignore.

My hand snaked around the doorknob as I pulled it open. A scream spilled out of the room and blasted in my ears.

Screams? No, correction: Moans.

I halted midway, the door half-open. The moans increased, mixing with the poisoned air. My blood turned cold at the scene in front of me.

My... my... husband, Zane. He was there, on our matrimonial bed, naked and shamelessly bouncing into another woman.

My insides churned.

"Squeeze my cock again, baby girl." He grunted while the whore wrapped her legs around his torso, submitting to his dirty request.

I wanted to go in, to scream, to voice out my sorrows, but I couldn't. I couldn't even move.

I felt trapped there, frozen, and my feet glued to the floor. I shook, trembling at the sight, yet I couldn't run, I couldn't scream.

Just then, my gaze caught the ink design on her ankle. It was a little snake design with its fangs seeping out.

N-no... no... no... please...

One betrayal was fucking enough; I wouldn't take another. I couldn't. Not this one.

No. God, please!

The whore tipped her head back in pleasure, and her long black hair fell back as her face came into view.

I felt daggers pierce my heart.

Si-lbil. Silbil??

My... my own sister.

"Faster." She groaned, and I almost choked on nothing; tears slipped down my cheeks.

"...No..." I staggered back. "N-no... no." My knee buckled. "...It can't be, I... I... it must be a dream. I... I..." I opened my mouth to scream, yet no words came out.

I stepped back yet again, afraid that I might scatter if I stayed. If I watched more.

"No... it... It can't be." The air clogged my throat, seizing my breath. I retreated, my legs kept pulling me back until I mustered the courage to run. I spun around, unaware that I was at the edge, the tip of the stairs.

With one careless move, I slipped and slammed hard against the stairs. A scream erupted from my throat as I rolled down the stairs. I stumbled, landing hard on my stomach.

Pains sprang through my being, especially my lower abdomen. I screamed more; tears flooded my cheeks, blurring my gaze.

My... my... baby.

"No... no... Christabel, please no!!!!" I grew limp, my head surged with pain. Slowly, I felt something trickling down my legs.

N-no... no.

I reached for my white gown; it was now bleached with my blood. My insides twisted painfully as another scream erupted from my lips.

"N-no... no... help!!!! Help... please." I cried, pain twisting my consciousness.

"Harder, baby." I heard my sister moan even louder.

"Please... help..."

"Yes, baby. Harder."

"Please..."

I couldn't move; I tried, I tried so hard. I couldn't lose her, I couldn't lose my little angel.

God, please.

Please, save my baby.

Please, my innocent baby.

Shakily, I crawled towards my bag, which lay far off, and blood poured out of me like a spring at the mouth of a mountain. My gaze blurred as darkness hovered around me.

"N-no... Please... help."

Finally, I reached my bag, ignoring the pain that stabbed my intestines. I picked up my phone, dialing 911.

"Good morning, you've reached the Emergency Medical Services. How can we help you?" They answered on the first dial.

"Help... please... my baby." I wailed.

"Ma'am, where are you??"

"I fell. My baby." I stuttered, struggling with the darkness. "Callahan mansion. Please, my baby."

"We have already sent the ambulance to your location, ma'am. Ma'am, calm down, nothing will..."

That was all I could grasp before I slipped into darkness, with my hands clutched on my belly, hoping and praying for my baby.

I fainted.

★

The beeping sounds echoed as my eyes fluttered open, and I shut them as the bright light struck my eyes. I had to blink several times to adjust to the contrast.

"Christabel... my... my baby," I muttered, reaching for my stomach. I touched it, looking for my baby, and weirdly, I felt empty.

"My baby... my..."

"Ma'am, you are awake." I tore my gaze to the man who beamed at me. He wore a white lab coat.

"Doctor, my child. She isn't answering me. My child." His smile vanished, replaced with a sad and pitiful look. "Doctor... my child..."

"Ma'am, you had a placental abruption..."

"Where is my child??" I half-screamed.

"The placenta detached from your uterus. I'm sorry, the child couldn't make it."

I died. Those five words snatched my life away from me.

"W-what... what... do you mean," I whispered, and tears flooded my cheeks. "What do you mean by that?? Where is my child?? Where is my Christabel??"

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. She didn't survive." The news came with its force, blasting me into insanity. My hands clenched the sheet as I nodded crazily, my lungs squeezed, knocking out any breath I had. I gasped, still nodding.

"I... I... my..."

"Ma'am??"

"I... Christabel." A loud laugh broke out of me. It echoed through the room. "I... I..." I laughed harder, like one who won a lottery even while I'd lost all.

"I... lost... my... I..." Slowly, my laughter changed into cries. I screamed so loud the bed I sat on rattled in resonance. "No!!" I yelled. "No... please."

My heart ripped apart even more; tears flew freely as I cried harder, curling up on the bed as I blamed myself.

If only I had been more careful, if only I had not staggered back, if only...

Amidst my world of possibilities, a certain image resurfaced in my pain. My teeth chattered as my blood boiled, flooded with anger.

If only those bastards didn't stab me in the back.

It took an hour for my cries to cease and another half hour to finalize the formalities. I sat like a doll as the doctors spoke, giving warnings, precautions, and what I should take to avoid something worse.

If only he knew, I had nothing else to lose. My palm itched, I felt sick, and I wanted to go back home.

Home?? I would have laughed if I weren't drained, stripped of every emotion.

Finally, they stopped, and I left, curling up in the Uber they ordered. My hand reached for my belly, which was empty. I really lost her. Just this morning, I wove dreams, a future for me and her. How I would hold her, tell her bedtime stories, how...

"It doesn't matter; she is gone." My mind yelled at me.

"Ma'am, we have reached."

"Th-thanks." I stepped out, my legs wobbled, threatening to fail me. My stomach still ached, especially. It hurt like a bitch.

I stepped in slowly, like I would crumble at any second. My gaze met the maids, who were too busy wiping the bloodstains to acknowledge me.

I ignored all, pushing myself forward.

"Ma'am??" One whispered-yelled, their gaze snapped to me, all filled with pity.

I would have spat on their faces if a certain figure hadn't descended from the stairs. Suited in a black suit, the devil, my dearest husband, stepped closer, looking like he wouldn't hurt a fly; he had his usual casual demeanor, like five maids weren't mopping my blood, like I didn't look like an empty shell.

"A nasty fall." He cooed, a mocking smile lingered on his lips.

"You are the devil," I mumbled as his smile deepened into a sly smirk.

Like it was a praise.

"I noticed."

"Y..."

"Watch your mouth, little wife. You really should know your place." He stepped closer.

Unlike the other times, I didn't recoil in fear. I stood, staring at the monster I married.

"It was just for fun," he said, buttoning his cufflinks like nothing had happened. "We were never really in love, were we?"

We weren't. This hell of a marriage was thrust into my lap on a fine evening, yet I did my best. I endured all the insults, the humiliation, the scars, the torture, thinking I could make this work.

How stupid of me.

"Do you believe in karma?" I asked, halting his steps.

"Seems you hurt your head." He said, storming out.

"I don't, either." Quietly, I walked out and into his room.

I couldn't dare call it ours, not when it reeked of her, it reeked of disloyalty, of sinful ties.

I grabbed my stuff and the divorce papers I once rejected. He had slammed these in my face three months ago, threatening to leave, and like a fool, I knelt and begged; I refused to sign.

I stared at the paper for another second before I scribbled my signature and tossed it onto the filthy bed.

"I don't believe in karma, but I do believe in revenge," I whispered, wheeling my suitcase out of the hell of a house, still clad in the hospital wear. I halted outside, glaring at the mansion. Anger surged through my being.

"...and you both will get what's coming to you."

And just like that, my three-year marriage ended in ink.