Chapter 3

The storm raged outside our bedroom window, each crack of thunder sending tremors through my body. I curled deeper into myself, one hand protectively covering my belly, the other clutching my phone with white knuckles. Ryan's absence felt like a physical wound, deeper than the throbbing dog bite on my thigh.

Another violent thunderclap shook the apartment. I gasped, tears spilling down my cheeks as memories flooded back—being eight years old, hiding under covers during a storm while my parents screamed at each other outside. No one to hold me then. No one to hold me now.

"It's okay, baby," I whispered to my unborn son, feeling his restless movements beneath my palm. "We're going to be okay."

But we weren't okay. My heart hammered painfully in my chest. Each breath came shorter than the last. The walls of our luxury apartment seemed to close in, suffocating me with their emptiness.

Marcus.

The name surfaced in my mind like a lifeline. Marcus Chen, my childhood friend who'd promised on graduation night, "If you ever need me—really need me—I'll be there. No questions asked."

I'd never called in that promise. Not once in ten years.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled to his contact. Would he even remember? Would he care? It was nearly midnight.

The phone rang three times before his voice, alert despite the hour, answered. "Jessica?"

"Marcus," I managed, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry—I know it's late—"

"What's wrong?" The sharpness in his tone surprised me. "Are you hurt?"

"I—" Another crash of thunder swallowed my words, and a sob escaped instead.

"Jessica, talk to me." His voice steadied, becoming a calm anchor. "Where are you?"

"Home. Upper East Side. Ryan's gone, and the storm—" I couldn't finish.

"Gone where? You're five months pregnant."

"Vanessa called. Her apartment's flooding." Even saying it aloud made the betrayal cut deeper.

A brief silence. Then: "I'm on my way. Twenty minutes. Can you hold on that long?"

"Yes," I whispered, relief washing through me.

"Stay on the phone with me," he instructed, and I heard movement, keys jingling. "I'm at the office. Just need to grab my coat."

Of course he was at his office. Marcus had become one of the city's most formidable corporate attorneys, his reputation for ruthless precision earning him both respect and fear in legal circles.

"Why are you working so late?" I asked, desperate for distraction as lightning illuminated my bedroom.

"Just finishing some research on a case." His voice was measured, careful. "Tell me about the baby. How are you feeling?"

I let his questions guide me through the next fifteen minutes, focusing on his voice rather than the storm. When the intercom buzzed, announcing his arrival, I nearly collapsed with relief.

Marcus stood in my doorway, his tailored suit slightly rumpled, dark hair damp from the rain. His eyes widened at the sight of me—pale, trembling, with a bandaged leg.

"Jessica," he breathed, crossing the room in three long strides. "What happened to your leg?"

"Vanessa's dog attacked me in the park," I explained weakly. "This morning."

Something dangerous flashed across his face. "And Ryan left you alone tonight? During a storm?"

I couldn't answer. Another thunderclap hit, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. My chest constricted painfully, spots dancing before my eyes.

"Jessica!" Marcus caught me as I swayed. His hands were steady on my shoulders as he guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. "Look at me. Breathe with me. In... out..."

I focused on his face, on the rhythm of his breathing. Slowly, the tightness in my chest eased.

"Your blood pressure," he said grimly, his fingers on my wrist checking my pulse. "We need to get you to the hospital. Now."

"But Ryan—"

"Ryan isn't here," Marcus said, his voice hard with a controlled anger I'd never heard before. "I am."

He helped me into a coat, supporting my weight as we moved toward the door. I leaned against him, suddenly exhausted beyond words.

"I've got you," he murmured, his arm steady around my waist. "I've always got you."

In the elevator, watching the numbers descend, I realized with startling clarity that it was true. While Ryan had been slipping away for years, Marcus had always been there, waiting in the wings of my life. Patient. Constant.

The realization should have comforted me. Instead, it filled me with a new kind of dread—because what did it say about my marriage that the person I could truly count on wasn't my husband at all?