Chapter 11

Anastasia's POV 

Mr. Robert visits less frequently than I'd like, but when he does come, he's always honest with me— brutally so.

"The trial has been pushed back again," he tells me in my sixth month. "The prosecution is still building their case, and the judge granted them an extension."

"How long?" My voice is flat, emotionless. I've learned to protect myself by feeling nothing.

"Another three months. Which means you'll likely give birth before the trial even begins."

The words pierce deep into my heart like a knife, and it feels like I can't breathe properly with the emotions coursing through my veins. I'll have my baby in prison. My child's first moments in this world will be surrounded by bars and guards and the stench of despair.

"What about the evidence?" I ask, forcing myself to focus. "Have you found anything that proves I didn't do it?"

"We're working on it. There are some inconsistencies in the timeline of when your car was reported stolen versus when the accident occurred. And we've been trying to track down surveillance footage from nearby businesses, but so far, nothing concrete."

"So basically, you have nothing."

Mr. Robert's jaw tightens. "I have a defendant who I believe is innocent, and I'm not going to stop fighting until we prove it. But you need to understand, Ms. Campbell— the system is stacked against you right now. The evidence, circumstantial as it is, points to you. We need a breakthrough, and we need it soon."

After he leaves, I return to my cell and break down. Jade holds me while I sob, my body shaking with the force of my grief and rage.

"They're going to take my baby," I choke out between sobs. "I'm going to give birth in here and they're going to take my baby and I'll never see them again."

"Shh," Jade soothes, stroking my hair. "Don't think like that. You have to stay strong. For your baby."

But strength feels like a luxury I can no longer afford.

By my seventh month, my body is exhausted. My ankles are swollen, my back aches constantly, and sleeping is nearly impossible. The baby moves frequently now, tiny kicks and rolls that remind me there's a life growing inside me, a life that depends on me to survive.

Dr. Eleanor is worried. "Your blood pressure is still high," she says during one visit, her expression grave. "And you're not gaining enough weight. The stress of your environment is taking a toll on both you and the baby."

"What am I supposed to do about it?" I snap, frustration boiling over. "I can't exactly check myself out of here and go to a spa."

"I know." Her voice is gentle. "But I need you to try. Eat more, even if the food is terrible. Rest as much as you can. And please, try to stay calm."

Stay calm. As if that's possible when my entire life has been destroyed.

That night, I dream of the man from the hotel. I still can't remember his face clearly, but I remember his touch, his voice, the way he held me. Does he even know I exist? Does he wonder what happened to the woman he spent that night with?

And what would he think if he knew I was carrying his child? Would he care? Or would he see me as just another mistake to be forgotten?

The eighth month brings new horrors. Rosa goes into early labor and is rushed to the prison hospital. When she returns three days later, her arms are empty. The baby was taken by child services immediately after birth.

She doesn't speak for a week. Just lies on her bunk, staring at the ceiling, silent tears streaming down her face.

I watch her and feel my own terror multiply. Is that my future? Will I hold my baby for a few precious moments before they're ripped away from me?

"I won't let that happen," I whisper to my belly one night. "I promise you, baby. Somehow, I'll protect you. I'll get us out of this."

But I don't know how. I have no money, no connections, no evidence to prove my innocence. I'm trapped, and time is running out.

Felicity brings news during my eighth month that makes my blood run cold.

"The woman who died, her brother is offering a substantial reward for information leading to justice in her case," she says carefully, watching my reaction.

"Her brother?" 

"Alexander Grayson. He's a billionaire, Ana. One of the most powerful men in the country. He's been relentless in pushing for your prosecution."

My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. Of course. Of course the person I'm accused of killing would have a powerful, wealthy brother who wants my head on a platter.

"He's been in the media, talking about his sister, about the pain of losing her. He's painted you as a monster who carelessly took an innocent life and then ran." Felicity's voice is bitter. "The public opinion is completely against you."

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me. "I can't win this, can I? Even if we prove I didn't do it, even if we find evidence that Liam and Marian set me up, this billionaire will make sure I pay anyway."

"We don't know that—"

"Yes, we do." I open my eyes and meet her gaze. "Powerful men like that don't care about the truth. They care about revenge. And I'm the perfect target."

After Felicity leaves, I sit in my cell, my hand on my swollen belly, and make a decision.

If I survive this— if by some miracle I make it out of here alive with my baby— I won't be the same naive, trusting woman I was before. I'll be harder, stronger and smarter. 

And one day, I'll make everyone who destroyed me pay for what they've done.

Liam. Marian. My parents.