Chapter 7

Chloe's POV

He violently tore my hospital gown open, exposing my skin to the cold air.

"Ethan, what are you doing! Let me go!" I panicked, thrashing as I shielded my stomach. "The doctor said no stress! I'll lose the baby!"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle," Ethan ignored my pleas entirely, pinning my hands above my head as his heavy body pressed down on me.

Like a starving beast, he bit down on my neck and collarbone, leaving dark, painful marks. His movements were rough, urgent, driven by a sick, possessive need.

"Listen to me, Chloe," Ethan growled in my ear as he forced himself into me, his voice raw and cruel. "Tomorrow, I marry Leilah. She will be Mrs. Vance. But you... you will always belong to me."

"Once your body heals, you are getting rid of this bastard. I'll buy you the biggest mansion, the most expensive diamonds, and keep you for the rest of your life. I can give you everything, except my last name."

This was Ethan's twisted logic.

He wanted power, he wanted his pure socialite wife, and he wanted me as his obedient pet in the dark. He thought money and control could keep me chained to him forever like a dog.

I closed my eyes, a single tear of pure humiliation sliding down my temple.

Disgusting.

He was absolutely disgusting.

Suddenly, I stopped fighting. I let him have his way with my body. I even wrapped my arms around his neck, actively matching his rhythm.

Ethan froze for a second, then his eyes flared with absolute triumph. He probably thought I had finally broken, that I was accepting my fate.

"Good girl... that's it..." He kissed the tears from my eyes, his movements growing wilder.

That night, I acted like a lifeless doll, letting him use me however he pleased. I swallowed all my hatred and disgust, just to make him drop his guard.

The next morning.

Ethan was fully dressed in a tailored white tuxedo, looking incredibly handsome. He stood by the bed, looking down at me as I pretended to sleep, and kissed my forehead.

"Wait for me to come back."

The door closed.

I snapped my eyes open, bolted to the bathroom, and scrubbed my skin with cold water until it was raw and bleeding.

At 10:00 AM.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed outside the suite.

Ethan hadn't let his guard down. In fact, he had doubled the security. Ten massive men in black suits completely blocked the hallway.

"Mr. Vance's orders. Not even a fly leaves this room today," the guard captain said coldly through the door.

I walked to the window, looking down.

Eight floors. Jumping meant instant death.

Outside the door were ten highly trained guards.

A cold smile touched my lips. I pulled out the burner phone Serena had left me and sent a single text:

Start the fire.

Five minutes later.

The hospital's fire alarm blared through the building.

Thick grey smoke began billow through the vents, and the smell of burning plastic filled the air.

"Fire! Run!"

"The eighth floor is on fire! Evacuate the patients!"

Panic erupted outside. Even though the guards were trained, the blinding smoke and stampeding crowd threw them into chaos.

Bang.

The door was kicked open. Two guards rushed in to grab me, but the bed was completely empty.

The bathroom door was locked.

"Miss Sterling! Open up!" The guards kicked the bathroom door open, only to find my discarded hospital gown on the floor.

As they searched the bathroom, I slipped out from behind the door, dressed in a nurse's scrubs, a wig, and a surgical mask. I blended right into the screaming crowd, running down the emergency stairs without looking back.

In the alley behind the hospital.

An unmarked black sedan was waiting, its engine humming quietly.

Gasping for breath, I burst through the back exit and threw myself into the passenger seat. Serena, wearing a baseball cap, slammed her foot on the gas, and the car shot forward like a bullet.

"We did it!" Serena yelled, checking the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following before letting out a massive sigh of relief.

I ripped off the wig and mask, panting heavily, my forehead soaked in sweat. I held my stomach as a dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen from the running.

"Chloe, are you okay? Does your stomach hurt?" Serena asked nervously.

"I'm fine. I can make it," I said, my face pale but my eyes burning with a wild, cold determination. "Drive to the Brooklyn Bridge."

"The Brooklyn Bridge? Aren't we going to the harbor?" Serena was confused.

"The harbor is too easy for him to check. Ethan's network covers all of New York. The second he realizes I'm gone, he will lock down every port." I took a deep breath, my voice freezing over. "I need him to think I'm dead. Completely destroyed."

Serena gasped, instantly realizing my plan.

We had hidden a speedboat under the bridge pier beforehand. I was going to stage a fatal car crash off the bridge to cover my escape.