Chapter 2

The surgery lasted forty minutes. Eleven weeks of life, scraped away.

When I was wheeled out of the OR, Carter was leaning against the wall scrolling through his phone.

Seeing me, he stood up, tossed a cheap plastic bouquet onto my chest, and quickly snapped a selfie with me in the background.

"Babe, you scared the hell out of me. Next time, just talk to me. I'm not an unreasonable guy."

Brenda came trotting down the hall, pulling two printed sheets from her designer handbag.

"Here, sign this while you're still lucid."

I looked down. It was a consent form stating: *Patient voluntarily requested pregnancy termination.*

Every single line had already been filled out in her handwriting.

"I took care of everything for you," Brenda said, forcing the pen into my limp fingers and patting my hand. "Sign it, and nobody can gossip later. We're family, Tara. Don't make things complicated."

"Tara, you have to cooperate."

Inside the recovery room, Chloe pointed her phone straight at me, an edited script on her screen.

"I need you to look at the camera, smile, and say: *My husband's April Fools' prank gave me a fright, but I know how much he loves me.*"

I lay back against the thin pillows, an IV needle taped to the back of my hand. Throbbing pain tore through my lower abdomen in endless, nauseating waves.

Chloe didn't wait for my answer.

"You don't want people calling my brother an abuser when the video blows up, do you? Once we post this clarification, everyone wins. My account gets followers, and you don't look like an abused, pathetic loser."

She shoved the screen an inch from my face. The front camera was already rolling.

On the screen, my face was ghostly pale, dark purple rings bruised under my eyes.

My child had been torn from my body less than eight hours ago.

"I'm not filming."

Chloe's fake smile hardened instantly.

"Don't be ungrateful, Tara. I haven't deleted the raw video. If I leak the original, who do you think looks worse?"

Her voice turned vicious.

"Did you forget you came into this family with literally nothing? The clothes on your back, the roof over your head, the phone in your hand—Carter paid for every single bit of it. Is a twenty-second clip really too much to ask?"

The door swung open, and Carter walked in carrying a takeout cup of soup. Hearing the tail end of the conversation, he glanced between us.

"What's going on?"

"Carter, she won't cooperate."

Carter placed the soup on the nightstand and sat on the edge of my bed, reaching out to stroke my hair. I flinched, pulling away. His hand froze in midair.

He stared at me for two seconds, his eyes chilling over.

"Babe, are you really throwing a tantrum right now?"

"The baby is dead."

"Yeah, I know. But we can always have another one, can't we?" He spoke casually, as if checking the weather. "The doctor said you'll be fine once you recover. Besides, to be honest, neither of us was ready to be parents anyway. Look on the bright side."

A suffocating lump blocked my throat. I couldn't breathe.

Chloe seized the opportunity to raise her phone again.

"Carter, lean closer. Get both of you in the frame. Tara, take a sip of the soup. The aesthetic will be perfect."

"Chloe, put the phone down."

"Carter?"

"I said put it down."

Surprised by his tone, Chloe rolled her eyes and shoved the phone into her pocket.

For a second, I thought he was defending me.

Then he turned to me, his voice colder than before.

"Tara, fine. Don't shoot the video here. But the second we get home, you're posting in the neighborhood WhatsApp group. You'll say it was an agreed prank between husband and wife. If the neighbors keep whispering, it's going to hurt Dad's business negotiations. You understand, don't you?"

He didn't care about me. He only cared about his father's business deal.