Chapter 3

Every time the heavy deadbolt clicked, I lunged for the door.

"Please!" I screamed, pounding my fists against the solid oak until my knuckles bruised and bled. "You can't do this! I'm pregnant! Let me out!"

The guards were ghosts, indifferent to my pleas. They stared ahead, faces carved from stone.

One evening, a young maid entered with a tray of food. Her hands trembled, eyes darting to the floor. I saw my opening.

I shoved past her, sending the tray crashing. My bare feet slapped against the cold marble as I sprinted for the foyer. I was so close. The heavy front doors were right there.

A massive hand clamped into my hair, yanking me backward with enough force to snap my neck. I hit the floor hard, gasping for air as the wind was knocked out of my lungs.

"Going somewhere?" the guard sneered, his grip tightening.

During the violent struggle, my wrist slammed against the doorframe. I heard the sickening crack—the face of my smartwatch shattering. As he dragged me back to my prison, my fingers brushed against the broken glass.

I managed to palm a jagged, triangular shard, hiding it deep within the folds of my sleeve. It sliced into my skin, but I welcomed the sting. It was my only weapon.

Weeks passed in a blur of terror. I was seven months pregnant now. I spent my days whispering to my belly, promising my baby that we would survive this.

But outside my door, the frantic pace of the household shifted. I heard the muffled, hysterical sobs of Paula and the sharp, frantic commands of Lucas.

"He's failing!" Paula shrieked through the walls, her voice laced with panic. "The treatments aren't working anymore! Do it now, Lucas! We are losing Carl!"

The deadbolt clicked. The door swung open, and two guards marched in. They grabbed my arms.

"No! Don't touch me!" I thrashed, my heels digging into the floor, but they hauled me out of the room.

They dragged me down the hidden stairwell and into the sterile, blinding light of the underground clinic. The smell of bleach and antiseptic burned my nose, making my stomach churn.

They hoisted me onto a cold steel bed. Thick leather restraints were strapped across my wrists and ankles, buckling me down with ruthless efficiency.

Lucas stood in the corner. His silhouette was a dark omen. The man who had kissed my forehead and promised me forever was gone.

"Lucas, please!" I sobbed, my body trembling as I strained against the straps. The leather bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. "Look at me! Please look at me! Remember us?"

He didn't move.

"I’m only seven months!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face, choking on my own despair. "If you induce me now, the baby won't survive! His tiny lungs aren't ready! He will suffocate! Please, Lucas, I am begging you on my hands and knees in my heart, don't do this to our child! Don't murder our baby for Carl!"

His back remained a wall of impenetrable ice. He didn't even flinch at the sound of my breaking heart. He was completely detached, ready to sacrifice his own unborn child for his brother.

"Do it," he commanded, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Dr. Robert approached the metal tray beside my bed. He drew a heavy dose of medicine into a syringe. It was the poison that would force my body into premature, agonizing labor.

"Just relax, Shaina," the doctor murmured lifelessly. He turned his back for a split second to prep the IV line.

That was my moment.

A primal, maternal fire ignited in my chest, burning away my terror. I twisted my right hand, the leather biting deep into my skin, and nudged the shard of glass from my sleeve.

I sliced into my palm, drawing a warm line of blood, but I didn't care. I gripped the glass and sawed frantically at the thick leather binding my wrist.

Snap.

My right arm broke free.

Dr. Robert turned around, the needle gleaming under the harsh lights. His eyes widened in shock. "Hey! Grab her—"

I didn't think. I lunged.

With a guttural scream, I drove the jagged glass into his forearm with every ounce of my remaining strength.

He roared in pain, dropping the syringe. It shattered against the tile, the clear liquid pooling on the floor. He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm, crashing into the instrument tray with a deafening clatter.

Scalpels and clamps rained down around him. The guards froze, stunned by the sudden violence from a woman they thought was broken.

I ripped the remaining restraints off, scrambling off the bed. My bare feet hit the freezing floor, slipping slightly on the spilled medicine, and I bolted for the door.

"Get her!" Lucas bellowed, spinning around, his voice vibrating with murderous rage.

I sprinted into the labyrinth of the penthouse corridors. My breath tore through my lungs like shards of ice. The sprawling estate was a maze of endless hallways and locked doors.

Every shadow felt like a trap, every sound a footstep behind me. I desperately searched for the service elevator, the one hidden exit the staff used. I needed to escape this golden hell before they dragged me back to that steel bed.

Behind me, the thunderous pounding of heavy boots echoed against the marble floors. They were coming.

Suddenly, a sharp, breathtaking pain ripped through my lower abdomen.