Chapter 13
The moment of recognition flickered in Seb’s eyes like a dying candle, but the shadow of doubt was quicker. He shook his head, his hand tightening on the car door. It’s impossible, he reasoned with himself. Amara is sedated. I just left her side at the hospital less than an hour ago. My mind is playing tricks on me because of the stress.
“Seb?” Elara’s voice chirped, snapping the tether of his thoughts. “Oh no, where’s my bracelet? I must have dropped it back there when those men were grabbing at me p>
She placed a delicate hand on his arm, her eyes wide and innocent. “I’ll just run back and grab it. You get in the car and start the AC I’ll be right back p>
Before he could offer to go for her, she was already hurrying back toward the gaping maw of the warehouse.
Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. The guard had reacted with brutal speed the moment Seb turned his back, slamming Amara back down onto the blood-stained concrete.
Two men now pinned her down, their heavy boots bruising her skin, a fresh gag shoved cruelly into her mouth to stifle the truth.
Elara stepped into the shadows, the rightened victim’s act vanishing instantly. Her face hardened into a mask of pure, years of malice as she looked down at the woman on the floor. The woman Seb loves more than her.
“You’re done for,” Elara hissed, her voice a low, venomous crawl. She leaned down, moving close enough for Amara to see the triumph dancing in her pupils.
Amara stared up at her, her eyes burning with a primal, white-hot anger that transcended the physical agony. Even pinned under the weight of two men, even with the copper taste of loss coating her throat, she didn’t look defeated. She looked like a storm gathering strength.
She wasn’t just fighting for her life anymore, she was memorizing the face of the woman she was going to destroy.
Elara threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, jarring sound that echoed off the rusted rafters. She stepped closer, her expensive heels clicking right next to Amara’s blood-stained hand.
“You really are pitiful,” Elara cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “A perfectly healthy baby, gone just like that. All because you couldn’t stay in your place p>
Amara’s voice was a jagged rasp, fueled by a mother’s dying hope. “I won’t… let you get away with this. I’ll tell him everything p>
“Tell him?” Elara’s eyes danced with cruel delight. “Didn’t you hear him, darling? I begged him to stop. I told him to let it go. But he insisted on the beating. He wanted you to pay for hurting me. Whatever happens to you now… it has nothing to do with me. It’s all on Seb p>
“I know you’re just some side piece he keeps!” Amara screamed, the words tearing at her throat. “He’ll never truly love you p>
Elara didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned down, her shadow engulfing Amara. “A side piece? Amara, I’m already expecting our second child. While you were clinging to the past, I was building a future over your head. Are you still wearing that pathetic bracelet he gave you? Look at me. He married me. We share a life, a bed, and a family p>
She reached out and patted Amara’s bruised cheek with a chilling, sisterly touch.
“I have your best interests at heart, really. That’s why I’m warning you, if you keep talking about that photo frame incident or try to ruin my reputation, I’ll do much worse than this. I was going to let these men have some fun with you tonight Elara stood up, smoothing her dress and looking down at the blood on the floor with a look of pure disgust. “But it’s just too messy for me. And my baby shouldn’t be around such… filth p>
She turned toward the exit, pausing at the threshold. “Die quietly, Amara. It’s the only dignified thing you have left to do p>
The guards waited only until the taillights of Seb’s car disappeared into the night. One of them spat on the floor, his face twisting into a cruel mask as he raised a heavy iron pipe. “The lady said to make it quiet,” he grunted. “Let’s get this over with p>
Amara closed her eyes, clutching her stomach. She felt the cold shadow of the pipe rising above her. She whispered a final, broken apology to the life she was losing. I’m sorry, little one. I tried.
CRASH.
The warehouse’s corrugated metal doors didn’t just open, they were torn off their hinges by a black SUV. Before the guards could react, a blur of movement swept through the room. A flash of polished leather and a clinical, terrifying precision followed. Within seconds, the two men were on the ground, neutralized by a force they never saw coming.
Then, there was silence.
Amara felt a pair of strong, trembling hands lift her from the cold concrete. She braced herself for more pain, but instead, she felt the softness of a cashmere coat and the scent of expensive sandalwood and rain.
“Amara? Amara, look at me p>
She forced her eyes open. Hovering over her was a face from a lifetime ago, sharper now, more defined, but with the same intense, soulful eyes she remembered from the back of her university lecture halls.
Julian Vale.
The reclusive billionaire, the man who had built an empire while staying a ghost to his old classmates, was holding her as if she were made of glass. His knuckles were bruised, and his breathing was ragged with a panic he usually kept under lock and key.
“Hey, please?” she whispered, her voice failing. “My baby… he… they p>
“I’ve got you,” Julian choked out, his eyes darkening with a murderous rage as he glanced at the blood on the floor, then softening instantly as he looked back at her. “We meet again, Amara. I am not letting you go now. Not like this p>
He scooped her into his arms, ignoring the blood staining his custom-tailored suit. As the car roared toward the hospital, Amara felt the darkness trying to take her again. But this time, someone was holding her hand, anchoring her to the world with a grip that promised he would never, ever let go.
The sterile white ceiling of the hospital room felt like a crushing weight. Amara lay there, her body feeling hollowed out, as if the best part of her had been carved away with a dull knife.
“Miss Piers,” the doctor began, his voice practiced and soft, yet the words were like lead. “The trauma caused severe internal hemorrhaging. We need to perform a surgical clearance immediately to prevent infection. However, given your state, we need a family member to approve the surgery p>
Amara’s hand instinctively went to her stomach, still flat, cold, and agonizingly empty. “I’ll give my own consent, Doctor,” she rasped, her voice sounding like a stranger’s. “There’s no one else p>
The doctor hesitated, checking his chart. “The fetus… it was only six weeks. At that stage, biologically speaking, they don’t feel anything. The nerve endings aren’t p>
“They don’t feel anything?” Amara interrupted, a single, hot tear tracking through the dried blood on her temple.
She looked toward the window, her soul screaming in a way her throat no longer could. If they feel nothing, why does my heart hurt so much? she thought. If you weren’t real yet, why does the silence in my womb sound like a roar?
Every strike Seb had ordered, every laugh Elara had shared, played back in her mind like a horror film. She had carried a miracle, and the man she loved had mistaken it for a crime worth beating.
“We lost our baby,” she whispered to the empty air. The “we” felt like a lie. Seb had forfeited his right to that word. It was her baby. Her loss. Her ghost.
Julian had stepped out to handle the intake paperwork and secure a private floor using his influence to ensure she was hidden from the world. He had left her for only a moment to gather the things she would need, but in the silence of the recovery room, the weight of the tragedy finally settled.
Amara looked at the consent form. With a trembling hand, she signed her name, effectively burying the only thing she had ever truly wanted.