Chapter 2
Stella's POV
The pain was everything. It filled my lungs, my bones, the space between my heartbeats.
I was still on the floor. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky. Nathan stood over me like I was garbage he'd accidentally kicked.
"Get up," he said.
I couldn't. My arms were wrapped around my stomach, trying to hold my baby inside, trying to undo what had already been done.
"Nathan," Victoria's voice cut through the ringing in my ears. "Having a kid would ruin your career. You just got promoted. You need to focus."
"You're right." Nathan crouched down, grabbed my chin, forced me to look at him. "Listen carefully, Stella. Tomorrow, you're going to a clinic. You're getting rid of it."
"No." The word barely made it past my lips. "Please. This is our baby—"
His laugh was worse than the punch. "Our baby? You think you deserve to have my child? A useless piece of trash like you would only produce more trash."
I held my stomach tighter. "I won't go. I won't—"
His boot connected with my ribs. The world went white.
"You'll go," he said, "or I'll make you go."
I waited until 2 AM. Nathan and Victoria were asleep in my bedroom—our bedroom—their bedroom now, I guess. My whole body screamed as I dragged myself to the door.
The street was empty and cold. I ran barefoot, blood still seeping down my legs, leaving a trail I hoped would disappear. Every step sent knives through my abdomen, but I couldn't stop. If I stopped, I'd lose the baby. If I stopped, Nathan would find me.
The 24-hour convenience store on the corner was lit up like salvation. I stumbled inside, and the clerk's eyes went wide.
"I need—" My voice cracked. "Pain medication. Please."
I counted out my last few dollars with shaking hands. The clerk bagged the pills without a word, but I saw him reaching for his phone. I had to leave. Had to keep moving.
That's when I heard Nathan's voice outside.
"Stella! Get out here. Now."
I backed toward the storage room, but there was nowhere to hide. Nathan walked in with Victoria right behind him, both of them wearing matching expressions of controlled fury.
"Sir, I can call someone—" the clerk started.
Nathan pulled out our marriage certificate, his smile perfectly reasonable. "Sorry about this. My wife is having a mental health episode. We're taking her home to her medication."
"I'm not crazy!" I screamed, but Nathan was already dragging me toward the door. The clerk looked away. Everyone always looked away.
In the car, Nathan's fist found my face. Then my ribs. Then my stomach again. Victoria filmed it from the front seat, her phone pointed at us like we were entertainment.
"This'll be useful later," she said cheerfully.
The last thing I remember was Nathan's voice. "You think you can run from me? You're nothing. You have nowhere to go."
Then darkness.
The beeping woke me. Hospital. White walls, antiseptic smell, fluorescent lights burning my eyes.
"Mrs. Pierce?" A doctor's face swam into focus. Her expression told me everything before she said a word. "I'm so sorry. We couldn't save the baby. And the trauma to your uterus... getting pregnant again will be very difficult. Possibly impossible."
I started screaming. I couldn't stop. The sound tore out of me like something dying.
Nathan walked in while I was still screaming. His first words: "How much is this going to cost?"
The doctor stared at him. "Mr. Pierce, your wife just lost—"
"I know what she lost." Nathan's voice was flat. "I'm asking about the bill."
He turned to me, and his face twisted with disgust. "This is your fault. If you'd just gone to the clinic like I told you, we wouldn't have to pay for any of this."
I looked at him through my tears. Really looked at him. And finally understood that the man I married had never existed. This monster was all there ever was.
Victoria appeared in the doorway, wearing fake sympathy like a costume. "Stella, I'm so sorry for your loss." Then she wrapped her arms around Nathan's waist. "Come on, baby. This place is too depressing."
They kissed in front of me. Long and deep. Then walked out, leaving me with my dead baby and my destroyed body and the medical bills I couldn't pay.
Three days after I got home, the police knocked on our door.
"Mrs. Pierce, you're under arrest for theft."
"What?" The word came out as a whisper. I'd barely moved from the couch since the hospital. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't slept.
Victoria stepped forward, tears in her eyes. Oscar-worthy performance. "My diamond necklace is missing. Stella was the only one who had access to my things."
"I didn't—"
"The security footage shows everything," Nathan said. His voice was so reasonable. So concerned. "My wife has been... unstable lately. I think she took it."
The handcuffs were cold on my wrists. I looked at Nathan, begging with my eyes for him to stop this. He looked right through me.
As they led me away, I heard Victoria's laugh. "That was easier than I thought."
"This is just the beginning," Nathan replied.
The detention center was hell in concrete form. Nathan refused to post bail, so I spent a week in a cell with three other women who saw weakness and attacked.
They took my food. Cut my hair while I slept. Pushed me, hit me, spat on me. I stopped fighting back after the first day. What was the point?
Every night, I curled up in the corner and put my hands on my empty stomach. The baby was gone. My ability to have children was probably gone. And I was stuck in this place because of a crime I didn't commit.
"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered into the darkness. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."
I thought about dying. Thought about how easy it would be to just give up. But something in me—some stubborn, angry part—refused.
After seven days, I was released. Anonymous bail, the officer said. I walked out into the sunlight, filthy and broken and smelling like despair.
A black car waited at the curb. Not Nathan. Victoria.
"Get in, Stella. I'm here to take you home." Her smile was all teeth.
I climbed in because I had nowhere else to go. Victoria started driving, and she wouldn't shut up.
"You know what Nathan told me last night?" she said. "He said these past seven days have been the most peaceful of his life. No whining. No crying. No useless wife to deal with."
I stared out the window. Said nothing.
"Oh, and he filed for divorce yesterday. You won't get anything, of course. You're the one who committed a crime. You're the bad guy here."
The car stopped in front of the house Nathan and I had shared. My things were scattered on the lawn, soaked from last night's rain. There was a note on the door: LOCKS CHANGED.
Neighbors watched from their windows. I heard them whispering. "Thief." "Criminal." "I knew she was bad news."
I fell to my knees in the wet grass, holding my ruined clothes. Victoria threw something at me—divorce papers.
"Sign these. You get nothing. No money, no property, nothing. Because you're worthless, Stella. You always were."
The car drove away. I stayed there in the rain, looking at my destroyed life spread around me. And for the first time in three years, I thought about something I'd buried so deep I almost forgot it existed.
My real name. My real family. My real life.
