Chapter 4

In the conference room, Jason was going over the new project proposal, but I couldn't focus on anything he was saying.

Suddenly I felt sick, and I covered my mouth and rushed out.

I could feel everyone staring at me, and I knew what they were thinking—Emma's been acting weird lately, maybe she's about to get fired.

I ran to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet, dry heaving. Nothing came up, but I still felt awful.

This was the third time this week.

At first I thought it was because my knees still hurt, but when I woke up this morning, it hit me—I was almost two months late.

No way.

I rushed out and went straight to the pharmacy downstairs. The cashier was this young girl who smiled when she handed me the pregnancy test. "Good luck!"

I just stared at the little box in my shaking hands. If I really was pregnant, luck had nothing to do with it—this would be a complete disaster.

Back in the office bathroom, I locked the door and read the instructions. Those three minutes felt like forever.

I watched the test, waiting as the first red line showed up.

Then the second one.

Two lines.

Two bright red lines.

My hands started shaking so bad I dropped the test.

I was pregnant.

I was having Taylor's baby.

"No," I whispered. "I can't bring a kid into this mess."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Emma? You okay?" It was Lily.

I quickly wiped my eyes, grabbed the test, and shoved it in my purse. "Yeah, I'm fine. Coming out."

After Lily left, my phone rang. Taylor.

"Emma, where are you?" His voice sounded calm, but I could tell he was pissed.

"At work. Why?"

"I'm picking you up for lunch."

I looked at my watch—it was only eleven. "Taylor, I'm still working—"

"Eleven-thirty, downstairs." He hung up.

At eleven-thirty, I went down and found Taylor by his car. He was wearing that blue shirt I used to love, holding roses.

Some girl from accounting walked by and said, "Your husband's so sweet."

If she only knew.

"These are for you." Taylor handed me the roses, then suddenly grabbed my wrist.

I gasped from the pain.

"What've you been up to today?" he asked, smiling, but squeezing harder.

"Just meetings, working on projects..." I tried not to wince.

"What else?"

My heart started racing. Did he know something? No way—he was home when I went to the pharmacy.

"That's it. Taylor, you're hurting me."

He let go and kissed my forehead. "Sorry, babe. I just missed you. Come on, let's get Italian."

All through lunch, I kept thinking about how to hide this pregnancy. He couldn't find out. If Taylor knew I was pregnant, he'd use the baby to trap me forever.

I had to get enough evidence fast, then get out. Me and my baby.

When I got home that night, Taylor was on the couch watching TV. Linda was making dinner.

Everything looked normal, except for the baseball bat lying across Taylor's lap.

My stomach dropped.

"Emma, come here." Taylor patted the couch next to him.

I walked over slowly, staring at the bat.

"You know what this is?" Taylor picked up the bat, spinning it around.

"A baseball bat..."

"Right." He stood up and held it in front of my face. "Found it in the garage today. Wanna know why?"

I shook my head. My heart was beating so fast I thought I might pass out.

"Because sometimes a wrench isn't big enough." Taylor pressed the bat against my stomach. "Sometimes you need something with more impact."

I stepped back automatically, putting my hands over my belly.

"Taylor, I..."

"Next time you don't listen to me," his voice got really quiet and scary, "I'm gonna hit you right here." He pushed the bat against my stomach again. "Hard. Until you get it through your head who's in charge."

Linda came out of the kitchen with a plate. She saw what was happening and actually smiled.

I stared at Linda—this woman who used to get beaten herself, now cheering on her son to do the same thing.

"I get it." My voice was shaking. "Taylor, I'll do whatever you want. Just put that down."

Taylor stared at me for a long time, then suddenly grinned. "That's better. Good girls act like that."

He put the bat back on the couch, but it stayed there like a warning—mess up and this is what you get.

At dinner, I could barely eat. Between feeling sick and being scared, my stomach was a mess. But I forced down a few bites—I couldn't let them notice anything was wrong.

After dinner, Taylor went to shower. Linda was watching TV. I snuck into the bedroom and locked the door.

I had to do something. I had some evidence, but not enough. I needed to make sure that even if something happened to me, my lawyer would get everything.

I opened my phone and set up cloud backup. All my recordings, photos, and videos would automatically upload every night at 3 AM. Then I wrote an email to my lawyer and scheduled it to send in three days.

If I didn't cancel that email in three days, it would automatically send my lawyer a link to everything in the cloud.

That made me feel a little better. At least if Taylor actually killed me, the evidence would still be there.

At two in the morning, I woke up to someone moving around.

I opened my eyes and saw Linda going through my suitcase.

"What are you doing?" I sat up, freaking out.

Linda turned around holding one of my old shirts. "I got up to pee and saw your light on. Came in and found you packing. Trying to run away?"

My heart sank. The suitcase had clothes and stuff I'd been getting ready for when I could escape.

"I wasn't..."

"Taylor!" Linda suddenly yelled. "Get in here! Emma's trying to run!"