Chapter 4

Vincent froze.

After a long silence, he gave a helpless sigh, bent down, and picked up the paper.

Then, he unlocked his phone, pulled up a video, and held the screen in front of my face.

In a cemetery, in front of a tiny headstone, two rows of men stood holding shovels.

Every drop of blood in my veins turned to ice.

I recognized that grave. It was the plot I bought for the baby I lost.

A month ago, after the miscarriage, I begged the doctor for my baby's remains.

To others, it was just a tiny clump of tissue.

Afraid he would wander cold and alone, I spent my savings on a small plot in the infant memorial garden and put up a tiny headstone.

My voice shook violently as I confronted Vincent.

"The baby sleeping there is your child, too!"

Vincent's eyes were bloodshot, as if he was in pain as well.

His lips trembled, his voice raspy.

"That baby is already dead."

"The baby in Chloe's belly can still live."

"The dead can't stand in the way of the living, Selena."

The sheer horror of his words made the room spin.

It took me a long time to pull myself back together.

I lowered my eyes, refusing to look at him again.

My voice was flat, hollow.

"Fine. I'll sign."

As I wrote out the letters of my name on the dotted line, the last shred of my soul attached to this man dissolved into nothingness.

Vincent took the signed agreement, paused at the door, and looked back.

"The surgery is scheduled for this afternoon. Head to the hospital early to prep."

I didn't answer.

He didn't turn back again. He shut the door and walked away.

I stood by the window, watching his car disappear into the rain.

I picked up my suitcase and checked out.

I hired a few workers and rushed to the cemetery. Vincent's thugs were already gone.

I had the workers dig up my baby's urn, and I held it tight against my chest.

I took a cab straight to the airport, blocked his number and deleted every social account, and boarded the flight to Paris.

From this day on, we would never see each other again.