Chapter 4

I stayed inside until late afternoon, when noise erupted outside the door again.

Brandon’s tone had softened, laced with a layer of coaxing concern.

"Grace, you haven't eaten a bite since yesterday. Your stomach can't take this."

"Open the door, baby. Let's go out and get some good food. Stop punishing your own body, okay?"

Rachel’s voice followed immediately, thick with fake tears.

"It's all my fault, Grace. We're still best friends, aren't we?"

"Please don't hurt yourself over this. Let me take you out to a nice dinner to make it up to you, okay?"

Brandon let out a sigh.

"See? Rachel is already willing to compromise."

"Open the door. Let's talk this out."

"Talk this out? How about you explain what's inside this first?"

I let out a cold laugh, picked up the old phone packed with his dirty secrets, and swung the door wide open.

A barrage of blinding camera flashes exploded directly in my face.

Seven or eight creators wielding smartphones and LED ring lights had completely blockaded my hallway.

Every single lens was shoved inches from my face.

Rachel cowered behind the mob of influencers, playing the innocent victim.

"Guys, please, don't crowd her so closely... My best friend is really sensitive..."

Vicious taunts rained down upon me without mercy.

"So this is the psycho who attacked someone? Looks decent on the outside, but completely rotten within!"

"Orphan trash is always mentally deranged. They can't stand seeing anyone else happy!"

"A born parasite. No wonder God cursed you with a barren womb!"

Rage shook my entire body.

"Who the hell invited you here? This is my private property! Get the fuck out of my house!"

Brandon held up a hand, weakly blocking a few lenses.

"Everyone, please stop filming. She grew up without parents, so she's always been overly defensive and emotionally volatile."

"She acted impulsively today, but Rachel is generous enough not to press charges."

"This is a private family matter we'll resolve behind closed doors. Please don't put Rachel in an awkward position."

Gritting my teeth, I thrust the old phone high in the air, pointing the glowing screen straight at Rachel.

"Isn't viral clout what you parasites want?"

"Today, I'll let the whole damn world see what that precious 'ginger cat' you've been hiding really looks like!"

The moment Brandon recognized the old phone, his face drained of all color.

He knew better than anyone what was stored inside.

"Give me that phone!"

He lunged forward like a rabid animal.

To bury his filthy truth, he threw all dignity out the window, grabbing my wrist and violently twisting it aside.

The impact threw me off balance. My lower back slammed viciously against the sharp corner of the dining table, and I crashed hard onto the cold tile floor.

A sharp, tearing agony ripped through the depths of my abdomen.

The sudden violence stunned the crowd, plunging the hallway into dead silence.

Brandon clutched the retrieved phone tightly against his chest, letting out a hidden sigh of relief.

Rachel hooked her arm through Brandon’s, stepping forward to block his view of me.

"Oh, Brandon, you know how she is. Every time you argue, she sits on the floor to play the victim."

"Let's just leave her alone. That little orange kitten at home is throwing a fit and crying for his daddy!"

"Everyone is starving, let's go grab dinner first!"

Brandon’s attention was completely diverted.

Pulled along by Rachel’s tug, he hurried toward the door, tossing a cold warning over his shoulder without looking back.

"Stay here and cool your head. When you're ready to post that public apology, I'll come back."

The front door slammed shut.

The cacophony of footsteps faded down the hall.

A warm, sticky liquid began to seep slowly down the inside of my pale thighs.

Gasping through the blinding pain, I reached down, my trembling fingers coming away coated in a terrifying, vivid crimson.

Staring at the thick pool of blood coating my hands, a horrific realization struck my brain like lightning.

I was pregnant. The baby I had spent three agonizing years praying for had arrived at the worst possible moment.

With the last ounce of my strength, I dialed 911:

"Help me... please!"