Death

ELARA

I was drowning.

I fought the water with every ounce of strength I had left, but I was fighting the panic too. The trauma dragged me under like a physical weight—the jagged memory of the first time I had met Shawn. 

He had saved me then, a nerdy girl being tormented by bullies who thought it was fun to try and drown me inside the school pool.

I could still hear their high-pitched laughter. I could still feel their small, cruel hands forcing my head down. I remembered the burning in my chest, the terror, and the absolute helplessness.

I had hated the water ever since.

And yet, knowing my past—knowing that water was my greatest fear—he had pushed me into it. He knew it traumatized me. He knew I could die.

He wasn't just angry. He was trying to murder me.

The realization was harder and colder than the water flooding my lungs.

I struggled, my limbs thrashing weakly as I refused to let my story end in this dark, silent deep. I refused to let my revenge be stalled before it even began. I refused to let my baby die. 

Yet… my muscles burned with exhaustion, my chest screamed for oxygen, and my vision blurred into a stinging, chlorine-stained haze.

I tried to scream, but I only swallowed more of the pool’s emptiness. I sank, my body growing heavier with every passing second, my silk dress tangling around my legs like a snare. Tears spilled even underwater…

Please…

My thoughts began to scatter as the darkness crawled closer, whispering for me to just let go.

In those final seconds, I wanted to call my father. I wanted my brothers. 

A wave of regret swamped me, more suffocating than the water. I should have listened to them when they warned me. I should have listened when they fought against this marriage, when they begged me not to donate a part of my body to a man they didn't trust.

I should have—

I heard a splash. Distant. Muffled.

Did Shawn come back for me? Did he finally remember who I was to him? Did he actually care?

Did he—

The darkness claimed me before I could find the answer.

—

When I regained consciousness, the rhythmic beep of a monitor was the first thing I heard. 

I floated in the gray space between sleep and awareness, my body feeling like it was made of lead and my head pounding with a thrum. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic settled over me before my mind could fully catch up.

Hospital.

When I finally managed to peel my eyes open, they found a stark white ceiling, the edges blurred. Slowly, my gaze drifted down to a nurse in pale blue scrubs, flipping through a chart at the foot of my bed.

“Hey…” I croaked. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. My voice was barely a rasp.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she rushed to my side. “Hey, Miss Elara. Take it easy. How are you feeling?”

“Fine…” I whispered weakly, swallowing against the pain. “Water…”

She nodded quickly, pouring water into a plastic cup. She slid a hand behind my head to support me, tilting the straw to my lips. The first sip burned like fire. The second was heaven.

“How do you feel now?” she asked softly, her eyes full of a professional kind of pity.

“Better…” I murmured. I tapped her wrist gently with a trembling hand. “Can you lift me up? I want to sit up…”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to the monitors, torn between caution and compassion.

“It’s okay,” I assured her quietly, trying to find a spark of my old strength. “I think I’m fine…”

With a soft sigh, she adjusted the bed, the motor whirring as it propped me up.

“Thank you,” I whispered, leaning back against the thin pillows. “Has anyone come for me? What hospital is this?”

“You are in Gracefilled Hospital,” she replied. “And yes, the gentleman who brought you in... he’s been checking on you every hour.”

For a second, my heart twisted with a phantom hope. Shawn?

Then she added, “He says he’s your friend. Your lawyer, to be exact.”

I shut my eyes as the hope died a cold death. Cassius. Of course it was him.

He must have come to the party to pay his respects to Grandpa Max. He must have noticed I was missing. He was the only one who ever looked for me. He must have followed the trail of destruction Shawn left behind and found me drowning in the dark.

Tears slipped from under my lids before I could stop them.

When I opened them again, the nurse looked alarmed. 

“Are you in pain anywhere? Should I call the doctor?”

I shook my head slowly. The pain wasn’t something a doctor could fix. It lived in the hollow of my chest. It lived in my memories.

It was pain, and a crushing gratitude. Cassius had saved me from being murdered by my own husband.

“There was an old man who came earlier, too,” she added gently. “Your grandfather?”

My throat tightened. What had those people told Grandpa Max? Had anyone checked the CCTV, or had Shawn already erased the evidence? Did the old man believe their lies about me pushing Miranda?

Ignoring the pounding in my skull, I asked for my phone. She retrieved it from the bedside drawer and handed it over.

“Thank you…”

As she turned to leave, a cold remembrance slammed into my gut, turning my blood to ice.

The pregnancy kit. The double red lines. My baby.

“Wait!” I called out, my voice cracking with panic.

She turned back, her expression shifting into something guarded and somber. “Yes?”

“My baby…” My hand drifted to my stomach, trembling. “My baby… is it still okay?”

The nurse didn't speak. Her lashes dropped, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

The silence was the only answer I needed. 

A weak, broken sound tore out of me as I clutched my stomach. My breath hitched, my chest collapsing inward as the world tilted on its axis. 

When she tried to step closer to comfort me, I shook my head desperately, waving her away. 

She hesitated for a second, then quietly slipped out of the room.

And I finally broke.

I screamed, gripping my stomach, as sobs ripped violently out of me. The fat hot ears soaked the thin hospital gown, the sheets, and my shaking hands. My shoulders heaved with a grief that felt too massive for me to hold.

Shawn had almost killed me. But he had successfully killed my baby. He had snuffed out a life while my own kidney was the only reason he was still breathing.

How wicked could a man be? How could he be so heartless to the woman who gave him everything?

My hands shook as I wept uncontrollably, as I scrolled through my contacts, my blurred vision stopping at a name I hadn’t dared to call in five long, lonely years.

Dad.

It was time to go home. I couldn’t carry this weight alone anymore. If I tried, I knew it would finally kill me.

The phone rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered.

“Hello?”

I swallowed hard, biting down on my lower lip until I tasted copper. “Dad…” I whispered. “It’s me.”

A long, heavy pause followed.

“Elara?”

“Dad…”

“Oh my God! Elara!” His voice broke, the shock quickly turning into intuition as he heard my agonizing sobs. “Elara? What’s the matter? Why are you crying? Where are you?”

His tone sharpened with a parental panic, and I could hear my oldest brother in the background, demanding to know what was wrong.

“Elara, tell me where you are! Talk to me! Did that bastard do something to you?!”

My sobs worsened, choking the words I desperately wanted to say. I couldn't breathe, let alone explain the horror of the last few hours. I ended the call because the silence was the only thing I could manage.

My baby…

With wet trembling fingers, I typed out the name of the hospital and hit send.

When he arrived with my five brothers, I would tell them everything. No more hiding.

And then, I would let them help me burn Shawn’s world to the ground.