CHAPTER 5

DAMIEN

I lay on my bunk staring at the ceiling, but all I could see was Maya's face when she told me about the baby.

Our baby.

The baby I killed without even knowing it existed.

My hands were still shaking. I pressed them against my chest, trying to stop the trembling, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. The image of Maya's angry, hurt face kept playing in my mind like a movie I couldn't turn off.

"I already lost the baby. Thanks for killing your child without even trying."

Her words hit harder than any punch I'd ever taken. And I'd taken plenty in my life—from my father, from business rivals, from people who wanted to see me fail. But nothing hurt like this.

I had destroyed everything. My marriage. My wife. My child.

And for what? 

I was the biggest fool alive. No, I was worse than a fool. I was a monster.

Across the room, I could see Maya lying on her bunk. That guy, Kai, had gone back to his own bed, but I could tell Maya felt safer now. Protected by him, because she didn't feel safe with me anymore.

I didn't blame her.

The old man on the bunk next to mine started snoring loudly. Normally, it would annoy me, but tonight I barely noticed. My mind was too full of regret.

I thought about the day I brought Veronica home. The way Maya's face had crumbled when she saw the little girl. The way she'd tried to stay strong, tried to be the perfect wife even as I destroyed her.

And I'd just stood there. Cold. Emotionless. Like always.

My father raised me to be that way. "Emotions are weakness," he used to say. "Show nothing. Feel nothing. Win everything."

I'd followed his advice my whole life. Built a billion-dollar company by age thirty. Never let anyone see me sweat. Never let anyone get close enough to hurt me.

But in doing that, I'd hurt the one person who actually loved me.

Maya had loved me. Really loved me. Not for my money or my name or my power. She'd loved me when I was cold and distant. When I worked eighteen-hour days and barely came home. When I forgot our anniversary three years in a row.

She'd loved me through all of it.

And I'd thrown her away like garbage.

I rolled over and looked at her again. Even in the dim light, I could see her face. She looked peaceful now, finally asleep. Her dark hair spread across the thin pillow. Her chest was rising and falling slowly.

She was beautiful. She'd always been beautiful. But I'd been too blind to see it.

No, that was a lie. I'd seen it. I'd just been too much of a coward to admit how much she meant to me.

Because if I admitted it, if I let myself love her, then I'd have something to lose. And my father taught me that having something to lose made you weak.

But now I'd lost her anyway. Lost her and our baby. And the pain was so much worse than anything I'd tried to avoid.

"You're staring at her like a creep."

I turned my head. The old man-number 0892-was awake, watching me with knowing eyes.

"Mind your own business," I said quietly.

"Hard to mind my own business when you're lying there radiating misery." The old man sat up slowly, his joints creaking. "Let me guess. You messed up big time, and now you want her back."

"I said, mind your own business."

"I'm seventy-three years old, kid. I've been married three times. Divorced twice. Widowed once. I know that look on your face. That's the look of a man who just realized what he lost."

I didn't respond. What could I say? He was right.

"What did you do?" the old man asked. "Cheat on her?"

"No."

"Hit her?"

"Never."

"Then what?"

I was quiet for a long moment. Then, for some reason, I found myself talking. Maybe because we were all going to die anyway. Maybe because I needed to tell someone. Anyone.

"I never loved her," I said. "At least, I never told her I did. My father arranged our marriage. Said she came from a good family. That she'd be a proper wife. So I married her. But I spent six years treating her like she didn't matter. Like she was just... there."

The old man nodded slowly. "And now?"

"Now I realize I loved her the whole time. I was just too stupid and scared to admit it."

"Scared of what?"

"Of being weak. Of having something to lose. Of being like my mother."

"What happened to your mother?"

I hadn't thought about this in years. Hadn't let myself think about it.

"She loved my father," I said quietly. "Loved him completely. He used that love against her. Controlled her. Manipulated her. Made her into nothing. When I was fifteen, she tried to leave him. He threatened to take me away, to make sure she never saw me again. So she stayed. And she died miserable, still married to a man who never loved her back."

The old man was quiet for a moment. "So you decided never to love anyone. That way, nobody could use it against you."

"Yes."

"But you did love your wife. You just didn't show it."

"Yes."

"And now she's here, in this death game, and you might never get a chance to make it right."

I looked at Maya again. "Yes."

"Well," the old man said, "that's a real mess you've made, isn't it?"

"Thanks for the help, old man."

He laughed quietly. "I'm not here to help. I'm here to tell you the truth. You want help? Stop being a coward. Stop hiding behind your father's rules. If you love her, tell her. Show her. Fight for her."

"She hates me."

"Of course, she hates you. You killed her baby."

His words were like a knife to the gut. "I didn't know..."

"Doesn't matter. You still did it. The stress you put her through killed that baby as sure as if you'd done it with your own hands." The old man lay back down. "But here's the thing about women. They're stronger than us. They forgive when they shouldn't. They love when it's stupid to love. If you're lucky, really lucky, maybe she'll give you another chance."

"She won't."

"Not with that attitude, she won't. Now shut up and let me sleep. Tomorrow's going to be hell. And we only live once. Do the necessary thing before it's too late."