Chapter 1

Seven months pregnant, on my way to a prenatal checkup, a video of my husband, James Nolan, and my sister, Emily Lane, in a compromising position suddenly appeared in my family's group chat.

I stared at the screenshot on my phone, thought about the seven-month-old baby in my belly, and with trembling hands, I gave James two choices.

Divorce, and I would step aside for him and Emily.

Or, return to the family, and from then on, only the two of us, him, me, and our child.

James didn't hesitate. He chose the latter.

He swore in front of my parents' portraits that he would never make another mistake.

And afterward, he did come home. He had meals with me, went to checkups with me, and at night, he'd massage my swollen legs.

Until the day I went into labor. On my way to pick him up, I was dragged into a van. I couldn't get through to him no matter how many times I called.

In the end, I was brought to the hospital with my clothes torn and my baby gone.

When I woke up, I heard James talking to a friend through the hospital door.

"James, that was your own child in Claire's belly. She was about to give birth. How could you actually go through with it, hiring people to scare her like that?"

James's voice was ice cold. "She's the one who leaked that video of Emily and me to the family group. Emily cried for three days. She humiliated Emily in front of everyone. She had to pay for that.

"She only lost a child. Emily was laughed at by so many people that day. This is nothing compared to what she deserves."

I lay in the hospital bed, an IV in the back of my hand, the fluid slowly dripping.

Someone was whispering outside the door, "Are you really going to send Emily the video those guys shot?"

A moment later, a woman's scream echoed from James's phone.

That voice was mine.

It was me, pinned down in that freezing van, my clothes torn, my stomach kicked, begging them not to hurt my baby.

I desperately held onto my belly, crying out James's name.

I thought that if I could get through to him, he'd come save me.

But in the end, it was him who sent those people after me.

It was him who took our baby's life.

I gripped the sheets so hard they wrinkled, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with ash.

The conversation outside the door kept going.

"We filmed it to let Emily blow off some steam. Send it to her. If it makes her smile, then it's all worth it." James's voice was soothing.

My humiliation and my baby's final desperate struggle were something for him to amuse Emily with.

The man asked, "You and Claire have been together for years. Don't you have any feelings for her at all?"

"She didn't care about our feelings when she secretly recorded that video, right?" James scoffed. "If she wanted me back home, she could've done it a thousand ways. But she had to hurt Emily. She deserved it."

I couldn't help but laugh.

That video was actually sent by accident by one of the Nolan kids.

I even deleted it right away, trying to cover up their mess.

But James assumed it was me, since he always believed I loved him enough to take the fall for everything.

His buddy asked, "What if Claire figures out you were behind it?"

"She won't find out," James replied, sounding totally sure of himself. "Even if she does, she won't leave me.

"She grew up without a mom, and the Lane family never really cared about her. If she dumps me, where else could she go?

"She loves me, and she'd never let go of being Mrs. Nolan."

I closed my eyes.

All my compromises, all my trust, and every nasty word I swallowed over the years were cheap and worthless in his eyes.

James said, "I'm heading over to Emily. She's pregnant, too, and her mood's all over the place. The doctor said Claire won't be waking up today."

The footsteps outside faded away.

I opened my eyes and stared at the stark white ceiling.

Emily was pregnant.

She was my half-sister.

When I was twelve, she moved in with her mom. On her very first day, she tossed the silver bracelet my mom left me into the fish pond, saying old stuff was bad luck.

I dove in after it and ended up catching a high fever.

My dad scooped her up in his arms, saying she was a kid and didn't know what she was doing.

Later, she took my room, my dress, and even the spot at the school I'd worked so hard to get into.

Then, she'd stolen my husband, and she needed my baby's life as a twisted way to make herself happy.

The nurse came in to change my IV, and when she saw I was awake, she almost fumbled the tray she was holding. "Mrs. Nolan, when did you wake up?"

I asked, "Where's my phone?"

The nurse glanced toward the door. "Mr. Nolan said you're still recovering, and he was worried you might get upset, so he's holding onto your phone for now."

I nodded. "Could I use your phone for a moment?"

The nurse hesitated.

I looked up at her. "I lost my baby. Don't I even deserve to make a call?"

She handed me her phone.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

When the call connected, a man's anxious voice came through. "Claire?"

I gripped the edge of the blanket, my voice so hoarse it barely sounded like me. "Uncle, I'm ready to see Grandma."

There was a two-second silence on the other end, as someone had knocked over a glass.

I said, "I'm asking for one thing. I want James and Emily to pay for my baby's death with their lives."

When James came to pick me up from the hospital, he was holding a bouquet of white roses.

He stood at the door, his clothes crisp and immaculate, his expression painted with the right touch of tender sympathy.

If I hadn't heard everything myself, I might've actually thought he was heartbroken.

He walked over and tried to hug me.

I stepped back.

His hand froze in midair, then dropped to his side, and he spoke gently, "Claire, I'm sorry. I was busy with something important that day, and my phone was on silent, so I missed your call."

I looked at him.

He continued, "We'll have another baby in the future. Take care of yourself for now."

I asked, "Where were you that day?"

James paused. "Southside Club."

"With whom?"

"A business partner."

"What's his name?"

He frowned. "Claire, you're not feeling well right now. Don't dwell on it."

I let out a bitter laugh. "My baby's gone, and all I'm doing is asking my husband where he was that day. Am I really overthinking things?"

His patience was wearing thin. "Do you really have to start this right now?"