THREE

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the smell of pills and the blinding lights.

I was in the hospital.

A nurse was adjusting the IV in my arm, her face softening when she saw I was awake. “You’re okay,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’ve been through a lot, but you’re stable now.”

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry.

The doctor walked in then, his expression grim. He held a clipboard, but he didn’t look at it. “Mrs. Bernardo,” he began. “You were in a car accident. You’re lucky to be alive.”

I swallowed, my head throbbing. “How bad is it?”

He hesitated, and that’s when I knew. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

“You were three weeks pregnant,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry, but the trauma from the accident… we couldn’t save the baby.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at him, my mind racing.

I’d been pregnant? Marco hadn't touched me in two weeks and it never occured to me that our last time together had resulted into a baby.

A dead baby.

“No,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “No, that’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

I turned my head away, tears streaming down my face.

Where was Marco? He should’ve been here beside me.

But he wasn’t.

Days passed, and he never came. Not once. The nurses tried to reassure me, saying he was probably busy, that he’d come soon. But I knew better. Marco wasn’t busy. He just didn’t care.

Then, on the fourth day, she walked in.

Davina. She smiled when she saw me, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Catrina,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You look… well, not great, but alive. That’s something, right?”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

She pulled a chair up to my bed, crossing her legs like she was settling in for a chat. “I heard about the baby,” she said, her tone casual, like she was talking about the weather. “Such a shame. But then again, maybe it’s for the best."

I clenched my bedsheets in my fists, my heart pounding. “Get out.”

She laughed, a low, cruel sound. “Oh, come on, Catrina. Don’t be like that. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” My voice shook with rage. “You’ve done enough.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

I froze, my stomach twisting. “What are you talking about?”

“The accident,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It wasn’t an accident. I ordered the hit.”

The room spun, and I gripped the bedrails to steady myself. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” She tilted her head, her smile turning vicious. “You really think a truck just happened to T-bone you? Please. This is the life, Catrina. You should know how it works by now. Couldn't exactly have you ratting me out to my brother now, could I?”

I stared at her, my chest tightening. “Marco… he wouldn’t let you—”

“Marco knew,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “He was there when I gave the order. He didn’t stop me. In fact, he didn’t even say a word.”

Davina's words hit me like a knife to the heart. Marco knew. He knew, and he did nothing.

“And the baby,” she continued, her tone almost gleeful. “He knew about that too. The doctor called him that day, before you got home. He knew you were pregnant, and he still let me go through with it.”

I couldn’t breathe for a while.

"Get out,” I finally whispered, my voice trembling.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

She rose and left, her heels clicking against the floor, and I was alone again.

I was discharged a week later. Marco still hadn’t come. I knew by then what I had to do.

After making a stop at my lawyer's office, I went home, my body still aching. He was in the study, like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t almost died. Like our child hadn’t died.

I walked in, the divorce papers in my hand, and flung them at him.

He looked up, his expression cold. “What’s this?”

“I’m leaving you, Marco,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in weeks.

He stared at me, his jaw tightening. “You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I laughed. “You knew about the baby. You knew about the hit. And you did nothing.”

He didn’t deny it. He just looked at me, his eyes empty.

“You knew what you were getting into, Catrina.”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “I didn’t. But I know now.”

"You won't survive out there without me. Wesley's people. They'll kill you. I'm the only thing keeping you

alive and you know that."

I didn't respond. Instead, I turned and walked out,

I was done.