Chapter 1

I was nine months pregnant when I suddenly started bleeding. I asked my husband for help, but he took my hospital bag, went to another woman, and locked me in the house alone.

I called out to my husband, Lucas, who was sitting on the couch beside me. *Take me to the hospital.*

He answered a call instead. He listened for a few seconds, then stood up. Without a word, he grabbed the hospital bag from the living room floor and headed for the door.

"Lucas, wait. I haven't changed yet."

At the door, he turned back. His face was tight with urgency.

"Vivian's going into labor. She didn't pack anything. I'm borrowing yours."

I gripped the wall, my legs unsteady. “What about me? I’m bleeding.”

He slipped my phone and keycard into his pocket.

"You're not due yet. Don't play the victim to get attention."

"Just stay home. I'll be back when it's over."

...

The heavy door slammed shut. The lock clicked into place.

I dragged my swollen body to the entrance and twisted the handle.

He had locked it from the outside. There was no way to open it from in here.

The dull pull in my belly sharpened into something cruel. A warm rush slid down my thighs and hit the hardwood floor.

My water had broken.

Lucas had taken my phone. I crawled toward the landline in the corner of the living room.

The moment my fingers touched the receiver, I saw it — the cord had been cut clean at the base. The cut was fresh, the copper wire still bright.

The contractions came harder, faster. Sweat poured down my forehead. I slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor, my nightgown soaked.

Survival pushed me toward the balcony. I couldn't give up. I crawled toward the balcony.

We lived on the second floor. Below was a strip of garden.

I pushed the window open and shouted into the dark.

"Help!"

"Someone — please — call 911!"

A security guard’s flashlight beam swept up and hit my face. He squinted up at me.

"Mrs. Valentine. Please don’t make a scene."

"Mr. Valentin told us you’ve been emotional during pregnancy, that you like to scream.

"He said you've been imagining you're in labor. He told us not to come up, no matter what we heard."

My fingernails scraped against the aluminum frame. I clung to the sill, my knuckles white.

"My water really broke! Please. I'm in labor. Please call an ambulance."

The guard shook his head.

"Mr. Valentine was very clear. Anyone who calls 911 or the police on your behalf would be undermining your marriage. He said he'd hold us responsible."

"Please go back inside, ma’am. Don’t make trouble for us."

He clicked off his flashlight and walked away, his footsteps fading into the dark.

I stared at the empty garden. No sound came from my throat.

Lucas had blocked every escape. He had even cut off the kindness of strangers.

I stumbled back inside. My vision was starting to blur.

The baby inside me must have sensed it — he started kicking, frantic, desperate.

My knee gave out. I went down beside the coffee table and knocked over the fruit bowl. Glass scattered across the floor.

The whole room was a mess.

*I can't die here.*

My fingers closed around a long shard of glass.

I would break the door open. I didn't care if I tore my hand apart.

Then the red light on the ceiling security camera blinked on.

Lucas's voice came through the smart speaker, cold and distant.

"Veronica. haven’t you made enough of a scene?”

His voice echoed through the empty room, looking down at me from somewhere safe.

I lifted my head and stared at the blinking red light.

He had been watching the whole time. He had time to watch me bleed.

I raised my bloody hand toward the lens.

"Lucas. I'm bleeding. I'm really in labor."

A small, dismissive scoff came through the speaker.

"Here we go again."

"Last time it was red ink. What is it this time?"

"Vivian is in agony right now, and you're putting on a performance for sympathy."

"You disappoint me, Veronica."

My whole body was shaking. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and spreading.

"Lucas. For the baby......Please."

"Call me an ambulance."