Chapter 4
“They’re just complimenting you. Don’t be ungrateful,” Ethan said.
“Ethan, I’m your wife,” I hissed through clenched teeth. He stood, pulling me aside—too rough, too impatient. “Relax, it’s a joke. You’re overreacting.”
I shoved his hand away. “I’m going upstairs.”
Before I could move, he pressed a glass of milk into my palm. “Drink this first. For the baby.” My body trembled involuntarily. “What’s in it?”
“Just milk, Lila. Since when do you not trust me?” His tone was sweet, but his eyes were flat, calculating.
I pushed it away. “No.”
His jaw clenched. “I’ve been patient all day. Drink. The. Milk.”
Lisa stepped in, all faux concern, handing me a cup of water instead. “Don’t force her, Ethan. She’s tired.” Her smile was venomous, hidden beneath a veneer of kindness.
I stared at the water, clarity piercing through the haze. “If I drink this, will you let me rest?”
The liquid went down smoothly, warm, harmless—until heat began crawling under my skin, my limbs turning to lead. I dropped the cup, gasping as my vision blurred. “What did you—” My voice slurred, legs buckling.
Zack caught me, his hands greedy on my waist, my thighs. “Lisa’s idea,” he chuckled, breath hot on my neck. “Pictures weren’t enough? Now she’s giving you a real reason to stay quiet. Smart girl—now you’ll have their baby and a video of you begging for it.”
I tried to scream, but my throat was cotton. Ethan and Lisa stood across the room, her arm looped through his, watching as Zack carried me upstairs. His last words before darkness claimed me were ice in my veins: “Go easy on her, guys. That’s my kid in there.”
“Relax, we’ve got this,” Zack snorted, hoisting me into his arms like I weighed nothing. “Not a hair on your spawn’s head’ll get touched.” His boots thudded on the stairs as he carried me up, and I turned my head, locking eyes with Ethan—his face a cold mask, no flicker of recognition in those eyes I’d once thought held love.
“Regret is coming for you,” I slurred, though the words felt thick on my tongue. Lisa smirked, swirling the wine in her glass—the same one she’d pressed into my hand hours earlier. “That water wasn’t just an aphrodisiac, sweetie. I added a little narcotic too—erases the worst memories. When you wake up, you’ll still be Ethan’s perfect little lapdog, none the wiser.” She raised her glass in a mock toast. “Sleep tight.”
Then the darkness came—swift, suffocating. In the void, something tore at me, nails and teeth and laughter, ripping me into pieces I’d never reassemble. I woke naked on the floor, blood pooling hot beneath me, sticky and relentless. “Help…” I dragged myself to the door, pounding with fists that felt like lead. Laughter erupted on the other side. “Cut the act, slut—your moans were deafening. Sleep it off—you’ll forget all about this by morning.” Zack’s voice, smug, amused. Ethan’s tone followed, cold and businesslike: “Now that’s done, let’s move to the next round.” A door slammed, vibrating the walls—leaving me alone in the silence, bleeding into the cracks of a life I’d finally stopped pretending to want.
I clawed my way downstairs, a trail of blood smearing behind me, each inch a victory. By the time I grabbed my phone, my vision was fading, but I dialed the hospital through gritted teeth. The next time I opened my eyes, it was to the sharp scent of antiseptic, the sterile hum of monitors. A nurse hovered, sympathy in her gaze. “Ms. Lila… the baby didn’t survive. How would you like to handle… the remains?”
I stared at the box she held, my voice steady as stone. “Call a courier. Please.”
Ethan and the others stumbled in at dawn, reeking of alcohol and arrogance. The door clicked open. A horrifying bloodpath greeted them, snaking from the stairs to the living room—crimson, unbroken, a message written in gore.
“Lila?!” Ethan shouted, bolting up the stairs. The bedroom was a horror show: a sticky pool of blood where I’d lain, no sign of me—only the echo of what they’d done. The doorbell rang then, sharp and merciless.