Chapter 1

I glanced down at the blurry shape on the ultrasound. Bitterness hit me hard.

I thought I'd never get this chance again. Never thought I'd be this lucky.

My phone buzzed. Nathan Hartley again.

[I'll be back tomorrow. Don't be scared.]

I was about to text back when Vivian's syrupy voice floated over.

"Bradley, who do you think our baby will look like?"

"Obviously you," he said. "Eyes like yours... the mouth..."

His voice was soft—gentler than I'd ever heard.

Then our eyes met. He froze.

"Serena? What are you doing here?"

His voice turned cold, like I was the one out of line.

My fingers curled around the ultrasound, the paper crunching in my hand.

Vivian saw me and instantly latched onto his arm, flashing the ring on her finger like a trophy.

My old wedding ring. A Vaughn heirloom passed down to daughters-in-law—until she said she liked it. Then it was hers.

I didn't want to give it up. Bradley had someone rip it off me anyway. Snapped my pinky in the process.

Vivian giggled behind her hand, all cozy against his chest.

"Serena, here for a checkup too? But didn't Bradley say you can't have kids?"

Straight-up mockery. And he still couldn't see it.

He forgot he was the one who picked Vivian first.

I couldn't have kids because help came too late.

I still remember the crash—trapped, a metal shard in my gut, blood soaking my thighs.

Bradley climbed out, saw me, bleeding, barely conscious. Then he hesitated.

"Vivian's worse. I'll get her first. I'll come back."

Her "injury"? A shallow cut.

I stayed in that flipped car, fading fast, the last thing I saw was his back walking away.

Too much blood loss. My uterus was done.

And somehow, that turned into his favorite excuse to keep hurting me—ripping open wounds I was trying to bury.

I stayed quiet through her digs.

Then she clutched her stomach, fake-gagging.

"Bradley, I feel sick again!"

Even that pathetic act—he still didn't see through it.

The first time we divorced? Vivian had a fever. Said she was dying and her last wish was to marry him.

Bradley dragged me to the lawyer that same day.

My leg wasn't even healed yet, and he shoved me into the car like I was baggage.

I was crying from the pain. He was on the phone, whispering sweet nothings to her.

That soft tone? Hurt worse than anything.

I begged him, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe.

He just loosened his tie and snapped, "Vivian's sick. Do you have to be so selfish? We'll get back together once she's better. What's the big deal?"

It wasn't a conversation. It was an order.

I signed through tears. He bolted to the hospital the second the ink dried.

Left me there. Alone. In pain. Until night.

Vivian said jump, and he'd never ask why. Me? He never believed a word.

So when she clutched her stomach again, his eyes flicked to me, all annoyance.

"Why are you following us? I told you to stay somewhere else. Vivian gets sick just seeing you."

Back then, that would've crushed me.

Now? I didn't lose sleep over him anymore.

I just said, "Move."

Didn't want a scene. Just wanted out.

But as we brushed past each other, a wave of dizziness hit me. I stumbled.

Bradley reached out on reflex. I turned away.

The ultrasound slipped from my hand and fluttered to the floor.