CHAPTER 3

CATHERINE POV 

Consciousness slowly seeped back in, the low, frequent robotic beat of a machine thudding through the void. I fluttered my lashes open, wincing as the light bit my irises.

I blinked, adjusting to the contrast of the room. My gaze stared at the ceiling. I tried to reach up, but pain coursed through my body and stopped me. I inhaled through the oxygen mask. My body was weak, too weak lift my body.

I tried to think, to remember how I got here, in a hospital?

Slowly, then with brute force, the memories slammed in. Images of him, of my Dom in another woman's arms. The way I cried my lungs out in the car, and then the accident, the way I called and begged him, all to be cut off and told to die... I could still recall the horrifying impact, the glass sticking into my skin, the distorted voices that spoke before darkness claimed me.

I clenched my hand; my lips parted, yet no words came out.

You almost died, he doesn't deserve you, you can't keep doing this.

I nodded, tears blurring my gaze.

If it's Evelyn he wants, then fine.

I'm done playing the puppet; I'm done being the good and understanding wife.

I breathed out, then reached for the oxygen mask and yanked it off. My gaze dropped to the drip needle dabbed into my skin. I reached for it, my fingers sliding through the tube, and right on cue, the door burst open.

I flinched, then stared at the figure that rushed in.

She froze mid-step, the bag of food she held slipping through her grasp and falling onto the floor with a low thud.

“Oh my god, you are awake!” the elderly woman, probably above her fifties screamed and hurried to me, her wrinkled face lighting up.

“I… do… do I know you?” I stuttered out.

“I… am the one who saved you from the accident,” she rushed out. “How are you feeling, dear? Do you feel pain in your lower abdomen?” I opened my lips to talk, my words dying at the sudden interruption.

The doctor walked in, a warm smile on his lips.

“You are awake.” He reached closer, checking the life support systems, then moved over to me. He checked my pulse, then pressed lightly over my stomach, and nodded. “You are really strong, ma'am. Both of you are fine.”

Both?

Does he mean the other victim in the accident? I clearly remember being struck by a truck. Is the driver okay?

“I… thank you for saving me,” I muttered. “But I have to go.” I reached for the IV support tubing and yanked it out. My hands ached, but I suddenly felt too numb to feel it. I hopped to my feet, my legs wobbling. I slumped head-first toward the tile before a hand caught me and steadied me. I raised my head to stare into a dark pair of blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I flinched at his husky tone. “You could have hurt yourself or your child, and here you are playing tough.”

“Huh?” I tried to wriggle from his grip, but he held me in place for another minute before the elderly woman held my arm, and he released me.

She laid me back onto the bed, where I sat trying to ignore the 6'2" towering figure who hadn't stopped glaring at me.

“I understand life is hard, but you don't need to take it out on your child.”

That got my attention. “You are wrong. I don't have a child. And will you stop screaming at me? I am not your child or toy!” I snapped, anger flooding my veins.

“You don't know?” the elderly woman whispered, her face etched in subtle sadness.

Confusion prickled through me. “Know what?”

“Miss,” the doctor began. “You are pregnant.”

I snapped my gaze with a force that almost wrenched my neck.

“Huh?” Those were the only sounds my brain could produce. “You… you must be mistaken.”

“You are two months pregnant. The accident was huge. Luckily, you were saved and brought in here on time, and the kids survived.”

“Kids?”

“There are more than one. Congratulations.”

I froze, my already crumbled world disintegrating and burning to ashes.

“No… please… no,” I choked out, shaking my head.

“Ma’am!”

“Please, this… this is a joke,” I muttered, tears streaming down my face. “Please, don't do this to me. Please… I… can't take this, I…”

“My child.” The woman pulled me into her arms. I collapsed into her embrace as a loud cry tore through my throat.

“No, I can't be pregnant. I can't be pregnant. I can't take this; I am tired. I don't want to fight anymore,” I cried into her arms.

I am tired. I didn't want to go back. I didn't want anything to do with them again. After so long, I finally found the courage to leave, I can't.

“My child, don't cry. Pregnancy isn't that hard. Adrian and I will escort you to tell your family. They might be angry, but they will calm down. We will tell the father, too. He will be happy.”

I shook my head, clutching my stomach.

“If you don't want to, then come with us. We will help,” the blue-eyed stranger said, his tone flat, eyes holding no emotion. “He won't hurt you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but a voice halted us. I turned my gaze to the TV. I was ready to look away to focus on what was important, my kids when the reporter's words halted my thoughts.

“Black Friday in the Moretti empire as the daughter-in-law and wife to the billionaire tycoon Dominic Moretti dies in a car crash. Witnesses said the car was burned beyond recognition, her body disfigured to nothing more than a heap of ashes.”

I stilled.

The news continued reporting, giving a detailed description of my death, of the car accident I survived.

They didn't know that.

“I am dead,” I muttered under my breath, staring at the screen as a sad smile crawled onto my lips.

“My child, we could go to your home”

With my gaze still on the screen, I declared, “I have no family, no parents, no in-laws, no husband.”

Mrs. Catherine Dominic Moretti is dead.

I looked down at my stomach, a soft smile curling onto my lips.

The heavens gave us a chance. Maybe this was God's way of helping, of setting us free.

Mummy will protect you. They won't hurt you like they hurt me. I won't let him ruin you, too.

A tear slid from one of my eyes, my smile still present as I said aloud, 

“Rest in peace, Catherine Dominic Moretti.”