The Child They Stole.

~ Ivy ~

The dress was too tight, even though the lady at the store said it would hide my body. It was dark navy, made of heavy fabric that felt like a thick blanket wrapping around my ribs. Julian had ordered me to go to the Ashbourne Grand Ballroom for the charity gala. He did not ask me. He told me.

"You are coming as a prop," he had said before we left the house, his voice flat and mean. "People are talking about our marriage. Stand in the corner. Do not speak unless someone speaks to you. And for once, do not embarrass me."

Now, I stood near a tall white pillar, away from the bright crystal chandeliers. The room was filled with hundreds of people in sparkly dresses and expensive suits. They laughed and drank wine from long glasses. Nobody looked at me with kindness.

Two women in shiny gold dresses stopped a few feet away. They looked at me, then looked down at their own small waists. They did not try to hide their voices.

"Look at her gown," the first woman whispered, loudly enough for me to hear. "It looks like a circus tent. How does it feel knowing your husband prefers a woman who can actually fit into designer clothes?"

The second woman laughed, covering her mouth with a manicured hand. "If I looked like that, I would stay locked in the house. Julian must be miserable."

I forced a small, fake smile and looked down at my shoes. My throat felt tight and hot. I wanted to run away, but Julian’s eyes were on me from across the room. He was standing with a group of businessmen, looking tall and handsome. He did not look at me to check if I was okay. He only looked to make sure I was staying out of the way.

Suddenly, the noise in the room grew louder. The photographers near the entrance started clicking their cameras rapidly, the bright flashes lighting up the doorway.

Chloe Bennett walked into the ballroom. She's the one the maids always talked about. Julian's mistress.

She wore a bright red dress that swept across the floor. It was tight and beautiful, showing off her thin waist and long legs. Her blonde hair fell in perfect shiny waves over her shoulders. She looked like a movie star. And she was holding Julian’s arm.

Julian did not push her away. He smiled at her—a real, genuine smile that he had never given to me in our fourteen months of marriage. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, making her let out a clear, musical laugh. The photographers moved closer, taking dozens of pictures of them together. They looked like a perfect couple. I looked like a stranger watching from the dark.

My hand moved automatically to my stomach. It was a small habit I had developed over the past few days. The baby was still so tiny, but protecting it was the only thing that mattered to me.

Across the room, Chloe’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd. She paused when she saw me standing by the pillar. Her smile tightened. She looked down at my hand, which was pressed firmly against my belly. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

She whispered something to Julian, patted his chest, and walked away from the crowd. She did not go toward the bar. She walked straight toward the private hallway near the restrooms, looking back at me once.

"Ivy," a voice called out. It was Julian. He walked over to me, his face twisting into an angry scowl. "Go to the restroom and fix your face. You look like you are about to cry, and people are staring. Move."

"Julian, please," I whispered. "Can we just go home? I don't feel well."

"No," he snapped, his voice a harsh whisper. "Stop ruining my night. Go clear your head."

He turned his back on me before I could answer. I swallowed my tears, held my breath, and walked into the quiet hallway. The noise of the ballroom faded behind the heavy wooden doors. The floor here was made of smooth, polished white marble that felt cold under my heels.

I didn't see Chloe until she stepped out from a corner, blocking my path.

"So, it's true," Chloe said. Her voice was sweet like honey, but her eyes were venomous. She stepped closer, her red dress rustling against the walls. "I saw how you were holding your stomach out there. You are pregnant, aren't you?"

I took a step back, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. "Stay away from me, Chloe."

"A baby won't make him love you, Ivy," she sneered, taking another step forward until she was inches away from my face. I could smell her heavy floral perfume—the same scent Julian brought home on his clothes. "You really thought a piece of trash inside you would change things? You are just a placeholder. A fat, ugly placeholder. Julian told me himself that he hates touching you."

"Stop it," I said, my voice shaking. Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes. "Julian is my husband. This is our child. Leave us alone."

"Your child?" Chloe laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. Her face twisted into sudden rage. "Julian doesn't want a family with a whale. He wants me. He has always wanted me!"

"Get away from me!" I cried, trying to push past her toward the ballroom doors.

"You don't tell me what to do!" Chloe screamed.

She lifted both of her hands, placed them flat against my chest, and shoved me with all her strength.

The attack was so fast and violent that I had no time to catch myself. My high heels slipped on the polished marble floor. I flew backward, my arms flailing in the air.

Thud.

My head cracked hard against the marble floor. A sharp, blinding pain exploded behind my eyes, making the world spin in dizzy circles. But a second later, a much worse pain ripped through my body. It was a deep, tearing agony in my lower abdomen, like something was being brutally ripped apart inside me.

"Oh," I gasped, my voice failing. I curled my legs up toward my chest, my hands clamping tightly over my stomach. "No, no, no..."

A warm, thick liquid began to spread beneath me. I looked down through my blurry vision. The dark navy fabric of my dress was turning black between my thighs. A dark red pool of blood was spreading across the white marble floor, staining the clean stone.

"My baby," I screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of the narrow hallway. "Help me! Someone help me!"

Chloe’s face went completely pale. She looked at the blood on the floor, then at her own hands. She took three fast steps backward, her high heels clicking wildly.

"This isn't my fault," Chloe whispered, her voice shaking with fear. "This isn't my fault. You slipped. Everyone saw how clumsy you are."

She turned around and ran down the hallway, leaving me alone on the cold stone.

The heavy doors burst open. Several guests rushed into the hallway, hearing my screams. Someone gasped. "Oh my god, look at all the blood! Call an ambulance!"

Through the crowd, Julian appeared. His face was pale, his eyes wide as he looked at the scene.

"Julian," I sobbed, reaching out a bloody, trembling hand toward him. "Julian, please... the baby. Help me."

Julian took a step toward me, but then he stopped. He looked at my outstretched hand, then looked past me. In the corner of the hallway, Chloe was leaning against the wall, sobbing loudly and pretending to be hysterical.

"Julian!" Chloe wailed, covering her face. "It was an accident! She just fell! I'm so scared!"

Julian did not kneel beside me. He did not hold my hand or try to stop the bleeding. He pushed right past my outstretched fingers, walking directly over to Chloe. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Julian asked her, his voice full of worry. He did not even look back at his wife bleeding on the floor.

"Julian..." I whimpered, my vision beginning to turn black around the edges. "Please..."

He didn't turn around. The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was Julian holding Chloe tight, protecting her while I drowned in my own blood.

The white ceiling of the emergency room was blurry. The lights were too bright, making my head throb with a sharp, stabbing pain.

"Stay with us, Mrs. Vance," a doctor in blue scrubs shouted, pressing a heavy white cloth against my lower body. "We are losing her blood pressure! Get another line in her arm, now!"

"Save my baby," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the loud, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. "Please. Save my baby."

"We are trying, ma'am. Just keep breathing."

They wheeled me down a long, white hallway. The metal wheels of the bed rattled loudly against the floor. I felt a cold gel being rubbed onto my stomach, and then the doctor pressed a plastic tool against my skin, looking at a small black screen.

I waited for the sound. The rapid, thumping heartbeat I had heard in my dreams.

There was only silence. The screen showed nothing but emptiness.

"There's no fetal heartbeat," a nurse whispered quietly, thinking I couldn't hear. "The placenta detached when she fell. She's bleeding too much."

"No," I cried, trying to sit up, but two pairs of hands held me down. "No, please! Check again! He's in there! My baby is in there!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Vance," the doctor said, his voice grim and heavy. "We have to take you to surgery to stop the bleeding."

A plastic mask was pressed over my nose and mouth. A sweet, chemical smell filled my lungs, and the world faded into total darkness.

When I opened my eyes again, the room was quiet. The bright lights had been turned off, leaving the room in a dull, gray shadow. An IV pole stood beside my bed, dripping clear fluid into my arm.

The doctor who had operated on me sat in a plastic chair near the mattress. His face looked tired and sad. When he saw me move, he stood up and walked closer.

"Mrs. Vance," he said softly, his voice gentle but devastating. "I am so sorry. We did everything we could, but we could not save the baby."

I did not scream. I did not cry. I just stared up at the white ceiling tiles, counting the tiny dots on the plaster. My body felt completely hollow, like a shell that had been scooped out and left empty. I placed my right hand flat on my stomach. It was flat again. The tiny, innocent life that had brought me a single day of hope was completely gone.

The heavy wooden door of the hospital room swung open with a loud thud.

Julian walked in. He was still wearing his expensive suit from the gala, but his tie was gone. His face was hard like stone, his blue eyes completely cold. He did not ask the doctor how I was. He did not look at my pale face with an ounce of regret.

He walked straight to the bedside table and tossed a thick stack of white papers onto the wood.

"Sign them," Julian said, his voice flat and brutal. "We are done."

I looked down at the top page. Written in bold, black letters across the top were the words: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

Divorce papers.

"Julian," I whispered, my voice cracking into a dry cough. "Our baby... our baby is dead."

"I know," he said, leaning over the bed, his shadow blocking out the light. "And it is your fault. You couldn't even do the one thing you were supposed to do."