Chapter 4

Sylvia reached out and brushed her hand across my pale face, letting it settle at last on my ear. "The second I knew you were pregnant, I told Austin. I said, offhand, that I didn't like your baby—and he agreed to have the kidnappers push you into the sea, so you'd lose it."

My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles, the pain so sharp I couldn't breathe.

Austin knew perfectly well I'd always wanted a child.

When he loved me, he wanted to lay the whole world at my feet. When he stopped, one word from Sylvia was enough for him to get rid of our baby.

The pain in my belly surged up all at once, like fire climbing through me.

I slapped her hand off my face.

"Ah! Claire, why did you push me? Won't you be happy until I'm dead?"

Sylvia rolled off the bed to my feet, wailing in agony.

The next moment Austin came storming in and kicked me in the stomach.

"Claire, kidnapping Sylvia wasn't enough? You want her dead too? How can you be so vicious?"

Sylvia threw herself pitifully into his arms. "Claire, I know you don't like me, but please, have mercy on my baby. She's so small. She can't grow up without a mother."

The agony rolled through my whole body. I clutched my stomach, pale-faced, and forced out the truth. "I didn't push her. She fell on her own!"

The next instant a cane came down across my back. Dad glared at me, seething. "If not you, then who? You've lied your whole life. You should have just died out there!"

Mom's eyes were full of disgust as she looked at me coldly. "Claire, how did I ever give birth to something like you? All these years Sylvia has kindly taught you, spoken up for you, and what did you do? Not only were you jealous of her, you repaid her kindness by trying to hurt her!"

It was always like this. No matter how much I said, no one would believe me.

The taste of rust filled my throat, and I stared at Austin.

Would he believe me this time? Would he take me away?

But he looked at me with revulsion, as if he'd seen something filthy.

The water boiling inside me suddenly went still. A strange, absurd calm settled over me, deeper than anything I'd felt before.

I laughed at myself, and with all the strength I had, I grabbed the cane and lashed it back down against the floor. "That last strike just cut every tie. From now on I have nothing to do with the Dawsons. Play favorites with whoever you like."

"You've lost your mind! You dare to fight back? Every single thing that's happened—which one of them wronged you? I'll beat this wicked girl to death!"

Dad wrenched the cane back and struck my back over and over, only stopping when Sylvia offered her fake, mincing protests.

"Dad, stop hitting Claire. She didn't mean to."

"She brought it on herself! Sylvia, how are you feeling? We're taking you to the hospital right now."

Sylvia was ushered out in the middle of the crowd, taken off to the hospital.

Before she left, I didn't miss the smug smile at the corner of her mouth.

With trembling hands I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and dropped it on the floor.

If I was leaving, I wouldn't keep a single thread of longing.

The wedding a week later—the groom would no longer be Austin.

The wounds were torn open again and again, the pain spreading through my whole body.

Scalding tears slid from the corners of my eyes without my permission, soaking the hair at my temples.

I fished out my phone and, with the last of my strength, called Preston.

"I'm at the Dawson house. Come and get me now."

The pain swallowed my consciousness. I couldn't hold on any longer, and I passed out.

The smell of disinfectant filled my nose. Someone was gripping my hand tightly.

The moment I woke, Preston was watching me, tense. "Does anything hurt? I'll call the doctor!"

He fumbled for the call button and held a cup of water to my lips.

When the doctor finished the examination, his face full of apology, he said, "I'm sorry, miss. We did everything we could. There was nothing we could do to save your baby."

I clutched the blanket, tears running down my cheeks.

On the day of the wedding, Austin stood on the stage and slid the ring onto Sylvia's finger with his own hand.

In that moment he suddenly thought of me, and unease began to creep in.

After he stepped off the stage, he called me, but the call didn't go through.

He called more than a dozen times, and still it wouldn't connect. The agitation inside him kept swelling.

"Austin, your archenemy is getting married today too. Take a look—whose daughter did he land?"

His buddy teased him, holding up the headline on his phone.

Austin caught sight of me first, smiling brilliantly in the photo. Disbelief flooded through him.

"Claire?"