Chapter 6

Anastasia's POV

The rain starts falling just as I step onto the street, each drop feeling like a physical blow against my already battered spirit. I have nowhere to go. No home to return to. No family to run to. Nothing.

My phone vibrates in my purse and I pull it out with trembling fingers. Felicity's name flashes across the screen.

"Ana? Where are you? I've been trying to reach you all morning." Her voice is filled with concern.

"I..." My voice cracks and I swallow hard, trying to find the words. "I need help, Felicity. Can I... can I come over?"

"Of course! Send me your location right now. I'm coming to get you."

Twenty minutes later, Felicity's car pulls up beside me. She takes one look at my face and her expression shifts from concern to pure rage.

"What happened?" She demands as I slide into the passenger seat, but I can't answer. 

The tears come faster now, unstoppable. She doesn't push. Instead, she drives us to her apartment in silence, occasionally reaching over to squeeze my hand. Once we're inside, she wraps a warm blanket around my shoulders and hands me a cup of hot tea.

"Talk to me, Ana. Please."

The story spills out of me in broken fragments. The meeting with Blake Pierce. Waking up in a hotel room. Overhearing Liam and Marian's conversation. The divorce papers. Losing my company. 

Everything.

By the time I finish, Felicity's face has gone pale with shock and fury.

"Those bastards!" She explodes, pacing across her living room. "We need to go to the police. This is assault, Ana. They drugged you!"

I shake my head weakly. "I have no proof. It's my word against theirs, and Liam... he has evidence of me in that hotel room. If this goes public, I'll be destroyed."

"So what? You're just going to let them get away with this?" Felicity's voice rises, but then she sees the look on my face and her expression softens. She sits beside me, pulling me into her arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

We sit like that for a long time, her holding me while I cry. Eventually, exhaustion takes over and I drift into a fitful sleep on her couch.

Three days pass in a blur. I barely eat, barely sleep. Felicity tries her best to take care of me, but I can see the worry etched into every line of her face.

On the fourth day, I force myself to get up and shower. As I'm getting dressed, a wave of nausea hits me so hard I barely make it to the bathroom. I spend the next ten minutes hunched over the toilet, my body shaking.

"Ana?" Felicity knocks on the door. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lie, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Just... stress, I think."

But the nausea doesn't stop. It comes every morning for a week, accompanied by exhaustion so deep I can barely function. 

Felicity watches me with growing concern until finally, she corners me in the kitchen.

"When was your last period?" She asks bluntly.

My stomach drops. "I... I don't know. With everything that's happened, I haven't been paying attention."

"Ana." She grabs my shoulders, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You need to take a test."

"No." I shake my head frantically. "No, it can't be. That's impossible."

"Is it?" Her voice is gentle but firm. "You told me what happened in that hotel. Ana, you need to know."

The pregnancy test sits on the bathroom counter like a ticking time bomb. I can't bring myself to look at it, so Felicity does.

The sharp intake of her breath tells me everything I need to know.

"It's positive," she whispers.

The world tilts beneath my feet. I grip the edge of the sink, my knuckles white. Pregnant. I'm pregnant with a stranger's child. A man whose face I can't even remember clearly through the drug-induced haze of that night.

"What am I going to do?" The words come out as barely a whisper.

Felicity wraps her arms around me from behind, meeting my eyes in the mirror. 

"Whatever you decide, I'm here for you. You're not alone in this, Ana. I promise."

Two weeks later, I've made my decision. I'm keeping the baby. Despite everything, despite the circumstances, I can't bring myself to end this life growing inside me. It's the only thing I have left that's truly mine.

"I'm leaving Los Angeles," I tell Felicity one evening as we sit in her living room. "I need a fresh start. Somewhere far away from Liam and Marian and my parents. Somewhere I can rebuild."

"Where will you go?" She asks, though I can see she already knew this was coming.

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe New York. Maybe somewhere overseas. I just... I can't stay here."

Felicity nods slowly, tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too." I squeeze her hand. "But I need to do this. For me. For my baby."

The next morning, I start making arrangements. I drain what little remains in my personal account— money Liam apparently didn't know about. It's not much, but it's enough to get me started somewhere new.

I'm at Felicity's laptop, researching apartments in New York when my phone rings. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something makes me pick up.

"Is this Anastasia Campbell?" A woman's voice asks.

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Detective Sarah Martinez with the LAPD. Ms. Campbell, I need you to come down to the station. There's been an incident involving you."

My blood runs cold. "What kind of incident?"

"I'd rather discuss this in person. Can you come in today?"

"I... yes. I'll be there in an hour."

I hang up, my hands shaking. Felicity looks at me with alarm.

"What is it?"

"The police want to see me." My voice sounds distant to my own ears. "Something about an incident."

"I'm coming with you," she says immediately, grabbing her keys.

The police station is cold and sterile, the fluorescent lights making everything look harsh and unforgiving. Detective Martinez is a middle-aged woman with kind eyes that don't match the gravity of her expression.

"Ms. Campbell, thank you for coming in." She gestures to a chair. "Please, sit down."

I sink into the chair, Felicity standing protectively beside me. "What's this about, Detective?"

"Two weeks ago, there was a hit and run accident. A young woman named Isabella Grayson was struck by a vehicle and killed on the night. We have a witness who identified your car at the scene."

The world stops spinning. "What? No, that's impossible. I haven't driven my car in weeks. I don't even have it anymore— my ex-husband took it in the divorce."

Detective Martinez's expression doesn't change. "Your ex-husband reported the car stolen two weeks ago. The vehicle was found abandoned near the scene of the accident. Ms. Campbell, I need to ask— where were you the night of the 4th of the month?"

My eyes widen in horror. On the 4th? 

It was the same night I was drugged. The same night Liam and Marian had set me up. 

I can't speak. My throat feels tight. What am I supposed to say? That I was in a hotel? A married woman in a hotel and got divorced the next day? 

That's too suspicious! 

"Say something, Ana!" Felicity whispers to me, her tone filled with desperation.

When I do not talk, she turns towards the detective.  "Ana's been living with me for almost three weeks now. She hasn't left except for doctor's appointments."

"Can anyone else corroborate that?" The detective asks.

My heart sinks. "No. It was just us."

"Ms. Campbell, I'm going to need you to come with me. You're being arrested on suspicion of vehicular manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident."

"No!" Felicity cries out as two officers step forward. "This is insane! She didn't do anything!"

"I didn't do this," I say, my voice breaking as they read me my rights. "I swear, I didn't do this. It's Liam and Marian, they're framing me!"

But even as I say the words, I know how they sound. Desperate. Paranoid. Exactly like someone trying to deflect blame.

As they lead me away in handcuffs, I catch Felicity's tear-stained face. 

"Call a lawyer!" I shout to her. "Please, call anyone who can help!"

But deep down, I know the truth. I have no money for a good lawyer. No family to help me. No evidence to prove my innocence.

And now, I'm going to prison. Pregnant. Alone. Completely and utterly destroyed.

As the cell door clangs shut behind me, I sink onto the hard bench and wrap my arms around my still-flat stomach. 

"I'm so sorry," I whisper to the life growing inside me. "I'm so sorry I brought you into this nightmare."

But even in my darkest moment, a small flame of determination sparks to life in my chest. This isn't over. Somehow, some way, I will prove my innocence. I will survive this.

And one day, I will make them all pay for what they've done to me.