Chapter 2

"Please," I gasped out. "Jake—I need help. The baby—"

"Shut up!" He spun around sharply, anger creasing his face. "I've had enough of your voice!"

Without warning, his fist slammed into my shoulder.

A sharp cry escaped me as my vision blurred from the pain.

"This is for ruining my date," he snarled.

Then his foot connected with my ribs. I doubled over, gasping, my hands instinctively shielding my swollen belly.

Desperate to get away from him, I scrambled backward and fell hard on the stone floor. My elbow hit the wine rack, and then I heard the sickening sound of breaking glass as a bottle shattered.

Jake's eyes widened at first, then narrowed with fury. "You idiot! That was a '82 Bordeaux—cost more than most people's cars!"

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, but he was already closing in on me.

"Sorry isn't gonna replace vintage wine." He eyed the shattered bottle on the floor, liquid gathering in a dark pool around the broken glass. "Since you've wasted part of it, don't let the rest go to waste either."

Before I could react, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back hard. The broken bottle was pressed against my lips.

"No," I tried to say, but he forced it into my mouth.

"Drink up. Tasty, isn't it?"

The liquor burned like fire down my throat. I choked and coughed, trying to turn away, but his grip was unyielding. Wine dribbled down my chin, mixing with my tears.

When the bottle was half empty, he finally pulled it away.

I gasped for air as wine and bile rose in my throat. The alcohol and the stale smell left me dizzy and disoriented.

"Now you can drink yourself stupid here and sleep it off. By morning when Zane sees you, he'll believe every word I say."

He snatched a few more bottles before turning to leave.

The cellar door slammed shut again, leaving me alone in the darkness.

Time lost all meaning.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, body trembling uncontrollably. The liquor seared like acid in my stomach, making everything worse.

I'm dying.

I could feel life slipping away with every ragged breath I struggled to take.

"Please..." I whispered into the darkness, "Don't let my baby die like this..."

Suddenly—a key turned in the lock. Then the door swung open!

A small elderly woman stood at the top of the stairs.

"My God," she gasped, seeing me lying in a pool of spilled liquor and blood.

It was Carmen—our housekeeper.

She rushed down the stairs, her face pale with shock.

"Mrs. Blackwood! What happened?"

"Carmen," I gasped out. "Help me. Please. The baby's coming."

Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone.

"Mr. Blackwood? Your wife is hurt—there's blood everywhere."

I could hear Zane's cold, dismissive voice through the phone. "Blood? Carmen, that's probably just some broken bottles from one of her tantrums. Don't fall for her act."

"But sir, she looks really sick."

"Just walk away, Carmen. You know what I'm saying? She's exactly where she belongs right now."

After hanging up, Carmen stared at her phone for a moment before looking down at me. I saw her expression shift as she took in my condition.

"My daughter," she whispered, "my Maria is also pregnant. If it were her lying here like this, it would break my heart."

She glanced at me again, and her gaze hardened.

"I'm gonna help you," she said firmly. "I don't care what he says. This isn't right."