Chapter 3

VANESSA'S POV

I opened my eyes to blinding white light and the steady beeping of machines.

My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that seemed to pulse in rhythm with whatever was beeping nearby. I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision, and slowly the blurred shapes above me began to sharpen into faces.

Nurses in their uniforms, and a doctor in a white coat—all of them staring down at me with expressions I couldn't quite read.

Panic clawed at my chest.

Where was I? What happened to me? Why were all these people hovering over me?

"She's awake," someone announced, their voice cutting through the fog in my brain.

I tried to sit up, but pain exploded through my entire body—my head, my ribs, my legs—forcing me back down against the pillow with a sharp gasp.

"W-where am I..." My voice came out hoarse and weak, barely above a whisper.

My heart started racing and the monitor beside me beeped faster. There were still too many people in the room and I couldn't breathe properly.

My hands were shaking.

The doctor seemed to notice. "Everyone out!" she ordered firmly. "Give us some space."

The nurses filed out one by one until it was just me and the doctor. She pulled up a chair and sat down beside my bed, giving me a gentle smile.

"Better?" she asked.

I nodded, taking a shaky breath.

"What... what happened to me?"

"I'm Dr. Anderson," she said. "You were in an accident. A car hit you while you were crossing the street. A passerby called 911 and waited with you until the ambulance arrived. You've been unconscious for almost three days."

Three days.

The words barely registered at first, and then everything came rushing back in a flood of painful memories—Sebastian, Isabella, the divorce papers, running out into the night, the blinding headlights, the screech of brakes, and the impact that had sent me flying.

And then... nothing.

My father's face suddenly flashed in my mind. He'd been killed in a hit-and-run accident, left to die on the side of the road as though he were nothing.

I could have died the same way he did.

"Oh God," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. "I could have died."

"But you didn't," Dr. Anderson replied quickly, reaching out to pat my hand reassuringly. "You're safe now. You're both safe."

I froze.

Both?

What was she talking about?

"What... what do you mean both?" My voice trembled as I looked up at her, confusion and something else—something terrifying and impossible—swirling in my chest.

Dr. Anderson's expression softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"You're pregnant, ma'am. About eight weeks along."

The world stopped.

Pregnant.

I was pregnant.

"No," I murmured, shaking my head even though it made the pain worse. "No, that's not possible. I... I had a miscarriage six months ago. The doctors said I might not be able to... they said..."

"You're pregnant," Dr. Anderson repeated gently but firmly. "We ran several tests to make sure, and there's no doubt. Eight weeks pregnant, and the baby is healthy and strong."

Eight weeks.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of the timeline. Six months ago, I'd lost our baby and nearly bled to death. The doctors had warned me that carrying another pregnancy might be difficult, maybe even impossible.

But here I was.

I was pregnant again.

No wonder I'd been feeling so sick lately—the nausea, the dizziness, the constant exhaustion I'd chalked up to stress and heartbreak.

It hadn't been grief.

It had been life growing inside me.

Sebastian's baby.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as the weight of everything crashed over me. I was carrying his child, and he'd called me barren just days ago. He'd thrown me away like garbage, kissed Isabella right in front of me, and told me I was worthless and useless.

And now I was pregnant with his baby.

"Miss...?" Dr. Anderson's voice pulled me back to the present. "Are you alright? Is there someone I should call for you?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the door to my hospital room swung open with such force that it made me flinch.

Sebastian walked in.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him—at his perfectly tailored suit, his cold expression, the way he looked at me as though I were something disgusting he'd stepped in.

Dr. Anderson stood quickly, glancing between us with confusion.

"Sir, visiting hours are—"

"I need to speak with her alone!" Sebastian cut her off sharply, his eyes never leaving mine.

Dr. Anderson hesitated, looking at me for confirmation. I wanted to tell her to stay, not to leave me alone with him, but my voice wouldn't work.

I just nodded weakly.

She gave me one last concerned look before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

As soon as she left, Sebastian stared at me.

I thought maybe—just maybe—he'd heard about the accident and realized he couldn't live without me. For one second, I hoped he'd come here to apologize, to tell me it was all a mistake, to beg for my forgiveness.

I was even about to tell him about the baby, about the miracle growing inside me, when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar stack of papers.

The divorce papers.

He threw them at me, and they scattered across my hospital bed. Then he threw a pen down too, the plastic bouncing off my chest.

"Sign the divorce papers and the NDA, Vanessa!" he ordered, his voice cold and emotionless. "Sign them and disappear from my life. Don't ever come back!"

My hands trembled as I stared at the papers, then back up at him.

"Sebastian, I—"

"And don't even think about going to the press," he continued, speaking over me as though I were nothing. "Don't tell anyone we were once married, don't try to contact me or my family, and stay the hell away from my company. If you do anything stupid, I'll destroy you, Vanessa. I'll make sure you never work again, never have a home again, never have a life again. Do you understand me?"

Each word was a dagger to my already broken heart. I couldn't believe that this man—this monster—was the father of my child.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw nothing of the man I'd fallen in love with three years ago. That man was gone, if he'd ever existed at all.

And suddenly, I understood.

There was no point in fighting. There was no point in holding on to something that had never been real.

With shaking hands, I picked up the pen and signed my name on every page he'd marked. Each signature felt like signing away a piece of my soul, but I did it anyway.

Because what choice did I have?

When I finished, I held the papers out to him without a word, and Sebastian snatched them from my hands, not even bothering to look at me, before turning toward the door.

"Sebastian," I called out, my voice stronger than I expected.

He paused but didn't turn around.

"One day," I began quietly, my hands instinctively moving to my stomach where our baby grew, "you're going to regret this. One day, you're going to realize what you've lost. And when that day comes, I'll make you pay for everything you've done to me."

He didn't respond.

He just let out a chuckle and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

My heart sank as I realized I was alone.

Alone with a baby Sebastian didn't even know existed.

I would make him pay for what he'd done to me. Somehow, some way, I would make Sebastian Lancaster regret the day he ever threw me away like garbage.

But I didn't know how yet.