Chapter 4

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

In the dead of night, he woke his heavily pregnant wife from a warm bed just to entertain this little performance?

"Guilty? Does anything she does look like genuine remorse? Waking me up in the middle of the night—is that her idea of an apology, or is she just looking for new ways to torment me?"

Impatience flashed across Christian’s face.

"Don't be ungrateful! She did this out of the goodness of her heart. She feels awful about earlier. Can't you be gracious enough to accept her apology?"

"Do you know she spent over two hours standing over the stove for you? Get up and eat. Don't break her heart again."

Before I could even speak, a piercing shriek echoed from the kitchen.

"Ahhh!"

The sound cut through the dead of night like a razor.

Christian panicked. Forgetting our argument entirely, he bolted out of the room.

I forced myself up and followed. When I reached the doorway, Chloe was standing in the center of the kitchen, clutching her thigh in apparent agony. A pot of piping-hot soup had splattered across the floor, steam rising into the air.

Seeing us, she burst into dramatic sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Valerie! I just wanted to make you some nourishing broth, but the pot slipped... not only did I make a mess, but I burned myself too... I'm so clumsy..."

She hiked her nightgown up to her hip, revealing her fair skin. There was a faint redness on her upper thigh. Paired with her tear-filled, wide eyes, she looked like a defenseless, wounded deer.

I let out a dry, scornful scoff. The acting was laughably transparent. The soup was all over the floor; there was no way it had splashed that high onto her upper thigh.

Christian, however, was consumed by panic. Seeing my smirk, his rage boiled over.

"Valerie, do you have a single shred of human decency?!"

"Chloe got burned trying to do something nice for you, and you're standing there gloating?!"

"Get in the car! You're coming to the hospital to stay by her side in the ER!"

He grabbed my arm violently, pulling with enough force to dislocate my shoulder.

I fought back, but his grip was iron.

He dragged me out the door and shoved me into the passenger seat.

He drove like a madman through the slick, icy streets. The second we screeched to a halt outside the emergency room, he slammed on the brakes, scooped Chloe into his arms, and sprinted inside.

Left behind, I had to support myself against the hospital walls, moving forward one agonizing inch at a time. The violent, reckless drive had triggered sharp, wrenching spasms in my lower belly. By the time I reached the hallway, I could barely stay upright.

Christian, who had just demanded that the intake doctor admit Chloe immediately, turned and glared at me.

"What are you playing at now? Chloe is hurt, and you're dragging your feet like an invalid! Can you stop being so damn dramatic for once?"

Cold sweat poured down my face. Pain choked the air from my lungs. I tried to lean against the wall to catch my breath, but he grabbed me again, dragging me into Chloe's private room.

"Christian, stop, please... it hurts so bad! Can't you see I can barely stand?!"

I begged him, my voice cracking with tears, praying for even a sliver of mercy.

He acted as if he were completely deaf. He dragged me straight to Chloe's bedside, then shoved me hard.

I lost my balance and crashed violently to the linoleum floor right in front of Chloe.

Pointing an accusing finger down at me, he barked:

"Apologize to her!"