Chapter 3

That day, I carefully prepared a table of his favorite dishes and changed into the pale blue dress I had worn on our first date. My heart fluttered with nervous hope as I waited.

At eight o'clock sharp, Edward returned home.

He shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it fall onto the sofa, tugged at his tie, and weariness etched his face.

Taking in the set table and my uncharacteristic appearance, he raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"What's all this for?" he asked.

I walked to him, took his hand, and slowly, deliberately traced the word "anniversary" into his palm.

Edward nodded as realization dawned. "I forgot," he said, his tone flat.

My heart twinged for a moment, but the sensation was quickly washed away by a tide of anticipation.

Dinner passed in silence.

After the meal, I retrieved the hidden pregnancy test and, with my heart pounding, held it out to him.

I watched his face intently, hanging on every subtle shift in his expression.

In my mind, I saw his surprise, his joy, him sweeping me into an exuberant embrace.

But none of that happened.

Edward stared at the test stick. His expression shifted from shock to grim seriousness, finally hardening into a mask of icy indifference.

His eyes lifted to mine. The look in them was one reserved for a nuisance who had overstepped.

"Pregnant?" His voice was flat and cold, devoid of paternal warmth.

I nodded vigorously, hope blazing in my eyes.

But he tossed the test onto the table. The sharp tap of plastic against wood was the sound of my fragile hopes shattering.

"Anna," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "I believe I made it clear we're not ready for a child."

My smile froze on my face.

He leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. "Why would you make such a unilateral decision?" he asked, each word measured. "Is this an attempt to cement your position as Mrs. Grant?"

I shook my head frantically, tears swimming in my vision.

Denial screamed silently within my skull.

I grabbed his hand, desperate to explain, but my mouth worked soundlessly.

Frantically, I fumbled for my phone and typed: [Edward, I love you. I only wanted to give you a child.]

Edward glanced at the screen, a smirk playing on his lips.

"'Love me?'" he repeated, the words dripping with sarcasm. He let the pause hang. "Anna, dispense with the fantasies. This isn't the right time for a child."

He said coldly, "Terminate it."

My world imploded in that instant.

I stared at him, feeling a coldness seep into my bones.

Terminate it?

That was our child. A living being.

I shook my head in frantic, wordless denial. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

My hands clutched at his sleeve, raw, animal sounds of anguish tearing from my throat.

But Edward just brushed my hands away, clearly annoyed.

"Spare me the melodrama. I don't have the time," he said, rising and adjusting his cuffs. "Tony will arrange the procedure for tomorrow. Be sensible and comply.

"Do not test my patience," he added, the finality in his voice absolute.

With that, he turned and left without a backward glance.

The door slammed shut behind him, sending a numb shock through my chest.

I crumpled onto the cold floor. My body shook with silent, wracking sobs as I stared at the plastic stick.

In that moment, the last ember of love for him was extinguished, utterly consumed by a cold, rising hatred.

I defied Edward. I did not go to the hospital.

I locked myself in my room, refusing all food and drink. It was a crude, silent rebellion, the only form of protest left to me.

On the third day, my bedroom door was forced open.

Edward stormed in, bringing a chill with him. His eyes found me huddled in the corner of the bed, and his gaze was terrifying in its darkness.

"What's this, Anna? A hunger strike?" he sneered, the words slicing the air.

In three strides, he crossed the room. He hauled me upright from the bed, his grip brutal.

Weak from days without food, my legs buckled. I was a dead weight in his grasp, unable to offer resistance.

"This is your final chance," he growled, his fingers biting into my chin as he forced my face up. "Go to the hospital now and end this. Otherwise, do not blame me for what happens next."

Looking into his merciless face, the last fragile hope within me guttered and died.

I met his gaze, a spark of defiance igniting in the ashes of my despair. I shook my head, a gesture of absolute determination.

This was my child. My only hope.

No one would harm him. Not while I drew breath.

My refusal ignited the full force of his brutality.

"You are asking for it!" he snarled.

A harsh, mirthless laugh escaped him. He yanked me by the arm, dragging me toward the hallway. "You thought this room was a sanctuary? Today, you learn the price of defiance."

I fought him, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on the doorframe, clinging with the last of my strength.

In the struggle, my foot slipped. Edward did not falter. His relentless momentum wrenched me forward, and I crashed sideways into the sharp corner of the foyer table.

There was a sickening thud as the small of my back connected with the hard edge. Then a searing, tearing agony exploded deep in my abdomen.