Chapter 8

Elena's POV

I moved my hand under the sheet to touch my stomach.

It was tender, but there was no cramping. No blood. The nurse had told me earlier, while I was drifting in and out of consciousness, that the baby was fine.

Liam didn't know. And after what he just said, he would never know.

"So," Liam checked his watch. "The doctor says you can be discharged tonight. It's just a fracture. We're going home."

"I'm not going home with you," I said.

Liam's face hardened. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper so Sophia wouldn't hear, or maybe he didn't care if she did.

"Yes, you are," he said. "Marcus just called. He said if you cause a scene or try to separate from me right now, he'll pull your sponsorship. Your visa expires in three weeks, Elena. Without the Glaciers, you're deported."

I looked into his eyes. There was no love there. Only calculation.

"You need me," Liam said, patting my uninjured hand condescendingly. "So let's stop the drama. Put on a smile. We're walking out of here as a united couple. For the team."

He straightened up and turned back to Sophia. "Ready to go, Soph? I'll drive you home first, then I'll come back for Elena."

"Okay, Liam," Sophia smiled sweetly. She cast one last look at me, a look of pure triumph, and took his arm.

They walked out.

I was left alone in the sterile silence.

I reached for my purse on the bedside table. My fingers brushed against the velvet box hidden inside. Noah's ring.

I wanted to put it on. I wanted to call him. I wanted to fly away on his jet and leave this hell behind.

But I couldn't.

Not yet.

If I left now, I would be the "crazy ex-wife" who abandoned her hero husband. I would be deported. I would lose my career, my reputation, everything.

And Sophia would win. She would live in my house, raise her child with my husband, and laugh about how she crushed me.

No.

I gripped the bedsheet.

I would go home. I would play their game. I would smile for the cameras.

But I would be watching.

Liam thought I was just "tough." He was about to find out that I wasn't just tough.

I was unbreakable.

Returning to the house felt like walking back into a prison cell, except this one was decorated with velvet drapes and expensive art.

Liam played the role of the doting husband perfectly as he helped me out of the car. He supported my uninjured arm, guiding me up the steps.

"See?" he said, unlocking the door. "Home sweet home. No reporters. Just us."

I stepped inside. The air was stale. The scent of Sophia's perfume, a cloying vanilla musk, still lingered in the foyer. She had been here. Recently.

"I need to lie down," I said, heading for the stairs. My head was still throbbing from the concussion.

"Wait," Liam called out. "I... I need to talk to you. About our future."

He walked over to the kitchen island where I had left my purse earlier. He was holding a piece of paper.

My heart stopped.

It was the appointment slip from the Eastside Women's Clinic. I must have dropped it when I was fumbling for my keys, or maybe he had gone through my bag.

"I found this," Liam said, his expression unreadable.

I braced myself. He knows. He knows I tried to abort his baby.

But then, his face softened into a look of pity that was even worse than anger.

"Eastside Clinic," he read. "I looked it up. They specialize in... difficult cases. Fertility issues."

He looked at me, shaking his head sadly. "Is that where you were going? To see why you can't get pregnant?"

I stared at him. The slip clearly said Consultation, but he had filled in the blanks with his own narrative. He was so convinced that I was "broken" that he couldn't imagine any other reason for me to visit a clinic.

"I..." I started to speak, but he cut me off.

"It's okay, Elena," he said, walking over to hug me. I stood stiff as a board in his arms. "I know you want a baby. I know how hard you've been trying. It must be devastating for you to fail, month after month."

Fail.

He was talking about failure while his mistress was pregnant with his child.

"But," Liam pulled back, his eyes gleaming with a strange, manic excitement. "Maybe this is a sign. Maybe God closed this door to open a window."

"What are you talking about?" I asked warily.

"Mike," Liam said. "You know... my old army buddy who died last year? Well, I found out something tragic. He had a girlfriend. And she... she passed away in childbirth recently."

I watched him weave the lie. It was impressive, in a sick way.

"She left behind a baby," Liam continued, grabbing my hands. "A little boy. He's in the system, Elena. Alone. No parents. Just like Mike."

"And?"

"And I think we should adopt him."