Chapter 4: The Edge of the World

CHLOE

Three days. That was all the time the hospital could give me before they needed the bed.

I sat on the edge of the thin mattress, reviewing the discharge papers in my hand. The IV had been removed an hour ago, leaving an ugly purple bruise on the back of my hand. The doctor’s voice still echoed in my head, a stern warning that I was one wrong move away from a miscarriage. Strict bed rest. No stress. No physical exertion.

I did the math in my head. After paying the hospital co-pay, I had exactly two thousand eight hundred dollars left in my personal savings account. Damian had frozen our joint accounts the second I signed the papers. It was a classic power move. He probably expected me to come crawling back to beg for a scrap of the Sterling fortune by the end of the week. He wanted me to realize that without him, I was nothing.

I zipped up my single black suitcase. He was going to be waiting a very long time.

I walked out of the hospital and hailed a cab to the bus station, keeping my head down. I couldn't risk a flight. The air pressure and the altitude were too dangerous for my condition. I walked up to the grimy ticket counter and asked for the cheapest ticket to the farthest destination available.

"One ticket to Oakhaven," the clerk said, barely looking up from his magazine.

Oakhaven. A small, quiet city tucked away in the mountains, six hours north. It was far enough away from the skyscrapers of Damian's empire. It was a place where no one knew my face, my name, or my husband. A place where I could disappear.

The six-hour bus ride was a test of pure endurance. The bus smelled of stale peanuts and diesel fuel. The seats were cramped, and the suspension was practically nonexistent. Every pothole sent a violent jolt of fear through my nervous system. I kept my hands clamped protectively over my stomach, mapping out a survival plan in my head. First, find a place to stay. Second, find a low-income clinic. Third, find a way to make money. I couldn't afford to panic. I had a baby to feed.

By the time the bus pulled into the Oakhaven terminal, my back was aching, my ankles were swollen, and my face was pale as a sheet.

I found a rundown motel on the edge of town that rented rooms by the week. The carpet was stained, the wallpaper was peeling, and the smell of bleach barely masked the scent of mold. But the door locked, and the owner accepted cash without asking for an ID. I paid for two weeks upfront and dragged my suitcase inside. I collapsed onto the lumpy bed and slept for fourteen hours straight.

When I woke up, the sun was setting, casting a sickly orange hue across the dingy room. For a single, terrifying second, I reached over to the empty side of the bed, expecting to feel Damian's warmth. My hand met only cold, scratchy cotton.

I sat up and shook my head. No time for that.

I pulled out my heavy laptop and connected to the motel's weak Wi-Fi. Before I was Damian's wife, I was an interior designer. I opened my email and started sending out pitches. I attached my portfolio to twelve different local businesses, offering my design services for dirt cheap. I needed a contract. I needed a lifeline to keep me afloat before my savings ran out.

Once the emails were sent, I opened a private browser. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I typed in Damian's name.

The first headline made my stomach turn. "Billionaire CEO Damian Sterling Spotted at the Grand Gala with Actress Victoria Blackwood. Is a Wedding in the Air?"

There was a high-resolution picture. Victoria was dripping in a red silk gown, her arm wrapped possessively around his waist. Damian was wearing the navy suit I had picked out for him. He was smiling. It was a real, genuine smile, the kind I had spent three years trying to earn and never could.

I stared at the photo. A month ago, looking at this would have destroyed me. Now, I just felt a cold, hard disgust. He was celebrating with his first love while I was hiding in a dirty motel, fighting to keep our secret child alive. He hadn't even looked for me. He hadn't even asked if I was safe.

I closed the laptop and pushed it away. If I wanted to survive, I had to stop looking backward. I had to focus on the present.

I walked over to the window and looked out at the empty, dark street. The reality of my situation was starting to sink in. The silence of the room was heavy, pressing down on my chest.

I walked back to the bed and lay down, curling up under the thin, scratchy blanket. I felt entirely alone in the world.

Suddenly, a strange sensation fluttered in my lower abdomen. It was faint, like the brush of a butterfly's wing, but it was unmistakable.

I froze. Then it happened again. A tiny, stubborn kick against my palm.

It was the first real movement I had felt. It was a small, fierce reminder that I wasn't entirely alone in this dirty motel room. I pressed my hand firmly against the spot, feeling a sudden, overwhelming surge of determination.

This was my child. And I would burn the world down before I let Damian Sterling take them from me.