Chapter 17

The door to the penthouse clicked open, the soft wheels of Rani’s luggage rolling against the polished marble floor as she stepped back into the familiar silence of her home. The cool air from the central system brushed against her face, mixing with the unmistakable scent of expensive perfume, masculine, musky, and undeniably familiar.

Her eyes narrowed. Peterson.

And there he was.

Sitting casually on the plush sofa in the living room, legs crossed, a glass of scotch in hand like he owned the place. His coat was draped over the armrest, his phone blinking softly on the coffee table. The audacity.

But Lamia was nowhere to be seen.

The quiet hum of the air conditioner was broken only by the distant clinking of dishes from the kitchen. Manang Sally peeked her head out, clearly startled by Rani’s sudden arrival. Anna followed, her eyes flickering quickly from Rani to Peterson, then back again, tension already thick in the air.

Peterson merely smirked as he raised his glass slightly in mock salute. “Welcome home,” he said, voice low, smug, and unbothered.

Rani’s face remained unreadable, her shoulders squared, her posture calm, but the air felt like it could shatter with one wrong breath.

And Lamia?

Still nowhere in sight.

Rani’s heels echoed across the marble floor like the prelude to war. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t blink. She didn’t even look at Peterson again… not at first.

She set her designer handbag down on the console with the grace of a queen reclaiming her throne, then took off her sunglasses, revealing tired but sharp eyes that hadn’t lost their edge, not in Switzerland, not in pain, not even in heartbreak.

She slowly turned her head toward him, her expression blank, voice calm and cruel. “What is a walking red flag doing on my sofa?”

Peterson leaned back, unbothered, twirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Relax, Rani. Lamia said I could wait here.”

She raised a perfectly arched brow, finally gracing him with her full attention, like a lioness deciding whether the mouse at her feet was worth the effort. “Lamia also said she’d love me forever when we signed our marriage papers. We all say a lot of things.”

Manang Sally and Anna were frozen at the kitchen threshold, eyes wide, breath caught. They knew better than to step into this scene.

Peterson chuckled, trying to maintain his cool. “Still dramatic as ever.”

Rani clicked her tongue and walked past him, dragging her fingers slowly across the top of the sofa like she was marking territory. “Dramatic? Oh, honey. I’m not dramatic. I’m expensive. Learn the difference.”

She stopped at the foot of the stairs, glancing toward the hallway that led to the master bedroom.

“No Lamia, I see,” she muttered, almost to herself. “She’s good at hiding, especially from responsibility.”

Then louder, as she turned her gaze back to Peterson, “Tell her next time she leaves her little souvenir at home, I expect him to pay rent. I don’t house men who wear borrowed cologne and chew on married women like leftovers.”

Peterson clenched his jaw.

Rani smiled sweetly, lethal in every inch of that smile, before tossing her hair back and walking up the stairs, her voice floating down like silk-wrapped daggers.

“Anna, bring me lemon water. Manang, light the Jo Malone candles in the room. The air’s been contaminated with… mediocrity.”

Peterson set his glass down with a loud clink, rising slowly from the sofa as Rani ascended the stairs, unbothered, regal, untouchable. But he wasn’t about to let her walk away without pushing a few buttons.

“You talk a big game, Rani,” he called after her, voice dripping with arrogance. “But for someone married to Lamia, you look a hell of a lot like the second choice.”

Rani stopped. Mid-step. One heel raised on the next stair, her posture frozen. Slowly, she turned her head with a smile so slow, so sharp, it could’ve sliced diamonds.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said without missing a beat. “You’re absolutely right. I am the second choice. But unlike you, I wasn’t the one recycled.” She descended one step with elegance, eyes locked on him like a sniper. “You’re like her vintage habit, worn, washed, and waiting to be relevant again.”

Peterson scoffed, walking toward the bottom of the staircase. “At least she still wants me.”

Rani laughed, full-bodied, rich, and cruel. “Wants you? My love, Lamia would want a cold glass of water in hell if she were thirsty enough. You’re just convenient… like the backup charger you only use when your real one’s gone.”

Manang Sally gasped softly in the kitchen.

Peterson’s smirk faltered, his voice tightening. “You think you’re winning this little war, Rani? You think wearing your designer gowns and sitting on your throne makes Lamia love you?”

Rani placed her hand on the railing, her diamond ring catching the light. “No, darling. I don’t think Lamia loves me. In fact, I know she doesn’t.” She descended another step, slow and poised, her tone lowering to something far more venomous. “But let’s be clear… she chose me. And while you’re parading around like a proud little side dish, I’m the main course she married. I’m the one raising her son. I’m the one wearing her ring. You? You’re just the guilty snack she sneaks behind her family’s back.”

Peterson stepped forward, jaw clenched. “You don’t scare me.”

“Oh, but you should be scared, Peterson,” Rani whispered as she reached the bottom step, meeting him eye to eye. “Because when Lamia finally burns all her bridges… and she will. I’ll be the only one left standing. And you’ll still be that desperate memory in her inbox marked unread.”

He glared at her, breathing hard.

Rani smiled sweetly again, brushing past him like he wasn’t even there, her voice light as air.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us have actual legacies to protect. You can show yourself out, or I’ll have Elise draft a cease-and-desist for trespassing. Your choice, darling.”

Rani’s stilettos tapped firmly on the cold marble floor as she turned her back on Peterson, the conversation long over… at least in her mind. She was done. She had won. Her words were lethal enough to kill a man’s pride, and she left him with nothing but silence.

But she heard it.

The rush of steps behind her.

“Rani!” Peterson barked, fury leaking from every syllable.

She stopped, but not out of fear, out of calculation.

“I said,” he growled, grabbing her arm hard enough to make her stumble back slightly, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

The grip on her wrist was tight, and for a brief second, pain flickered across her face. But it was quickly replaced by something far more terrifying… her rage.

She turned her head slowly, her jaw tightening, her voice dropping into a whisper sharp as broken glass. “Take your hand off me. Now.”

But Peterson’s eyes were blazing. His voice lowered too, thick with venom. “You think you’re untouchable just because you’re wearing Lamia’s last name? You think your power makes you invincible?”

“I know it does,” she spat, twisting her wrist from his grasp. “And the only thing you’re touching tonight is the last nerve I have left.”

Peterson stepped forward, chest heaving, his hands balled into fists. “I’m not scared of you, Rani.”

“And that,” she hissed, brushing off her arm where he grabbed her, “is the last mistake you’ll ever make in this house.”

Just then, the sound of rushing footsteps came from the hallway. Nina appeared, wide-eyed, with her hand still holding the baby bottle from Faisal’s room. Manang Sally followed a second later, her voice trembling.

“Sir Peterson!” she shouted. “Umalis na po kayo”

Rani turned toward the maids without a single tear, without a single tremble. “Call security. Tell them there’s a trespasser in the penthouse. And Manang… notify Elise. I want a full legal file built by morning.”

“You wouldn’t,” Peterson said, trying to recover his control.

Rani glared at him like a queen casting out a traitor. “Try me.”

He stood there, trembling, seething, helpless.

But Rani? She was steel.

“You want Lamia?” she whispered with ice in her voice. “Then go beg for her in the gutters. But you will never come near me or my son again.”

And with that, Peterson’s hands close around Rani’s shoulders, his fingers digging deep into her skin. For a moment, they’re frozen, their eyes locked in a silent struggle. Then, with a sudden burst of violence, Peterson pushes Rani away from him.

Rani stumbles backward, her feet tangling in the hem of her dress. She falls hard, her palms scraping against the rough floor. A cry of pain escapes her lips as she struggles to sit up, her hand flying to her belly.

Fear and panic etch her face as she feels a warm trickle spreading down her thighs. She looks down, her eyes widening in horror as she sees the blood staining her dress. Rani’s pregnancy had been a delicate balance, and now, as she bleeds, she feels her world crumbling around her.

Tears of pain and fear stream down her face as she stares up at Peterson, her voice shaking with accusation. “What have you done?”

Rani’s eyes widened in horror as she stumbled backward, her feet tangling in the hem of her dress. She fell hard, her palms scraping against the polished floor of their penthouse.

Manang Sally, their loyal maid, rushed to Rani’s side, helping her sit up. “Ma’am Rani, okay lang po kayo?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

Rani’s face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. “I’m bleeding,” she whispered, her hand flying to her belly.

Anna, their other maid, rushed into the room, a look of alarm on her face. “Ma’am Rani, anong nangyari?!” she asked, her voice trembling.

Peterson, who had been standing in the doorway, took a step forward, his eyes wide with shock. “Rani, what’s going on? Why are you…?” He trailed off, his eyes fixed on Rani’s belly.

Manang Sally’s eyes widened in understanding. “Ma’am Rani, buntis po ba k…?” She didn’t finish the question, but Rani’s nod was enough.

The room fell silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the three women. Rani’s pregnancy had been a secret, known only to her. And now, as she bled on the floor, they were all in shock and panic.

Peterson’s face was ashen, his eyes fixed on Rani. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he said, his voice firm but shaking slightly.

Manang Sally and Anna nodded, quickly helping Rani to her feet.

——

Sirens screamed through the city streets as the ambulance tore through traffic, its red lights splashing across buildings like warning signs written in blood. Inside, Rani lay pale against the stretcher, her arm still bandaged, but it wasn’t the cut that terrified everyone… it was the baby.

Her breaths were shallow. Her lips were trembling, but she hadn’t said a word since they loaded her in. Elise sat beside her, gripping her hand tightly, whispering over and over, “You’re okay, Ma’am Rani. You’re okay. The baby’s okay. Please be okay…”

Behind them, Peterson was pacing furiously in the hospital’s emergency lot. His skin was clammy, his throat dry, his mind running circles of regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her… at least, not like that. The push, the glass, the blood, it all replayed in his head like a scene from a nightmare. The second he saw her collapse, his rage vanished, replaced by something colder.

Fear.

He ran his hand down his face, eyes wild. “Shit… oh God, what have I done?” he muttered under his breath, watching as nurses and doctors moved around like a storm. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He knew that. Security had already warned him to stay away. But the moment he realized Rani was pregnant, when Elise screamed it at the paramedics… it shattered him.

“If something happens to that baby…” Elise had said with fire in her eyes, “You’ll never crawl your way out of what’s coming.”

Peterson stumbled toward the sliding glass doors, but a security guard immediately blocked his way. “Sir, you need to leave the premises. Now.”

“But… she’s pregnant. It’s because of me. I…”

“Exactly. Walk away before someone puts you in a body bag,” Elise snapped from behind the glass, her eyes bloodshot from crying, rage pulsing from her voice like a blade.

Inside, Rani was being rushed down the hallway. Machines beeped. A nurse called out vitals. The OB-GYN on call was already scrubbed in.

And in Rani’s head… one thing kept echoing, louder than the pain.

Protect the baby. Protect my child.

Because she had lost too much already. She would not lose this one too.

——

The hospital room was cold.

Sterile white walls, a faint humming from the monitor beside her, and the soft shuffle of nurses outside the glass door, all of it blurred into the background. Rani lay still on the hospital bed, an IV drip trailing from her hand, her other arm lightly bandaged. Elise was beside her, sitting silently, her hands tightly folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the floor.

Then came the knock.

The doctor entered, a woman in her fifties, wearing a white coat over scrubs, her expression careful but unreadable. She walked to the side of the bed with a clipboard in hand, but it was the way she exhaled softly, like she was bracing for impact, that made Rani sit up straighter.

“Ms. Hidalgo,” the doctor said gently, her voice laced with compassion. “We did everything we could. But… I’m afraid the pregnancy didn’t hold.”

For a second, there was only silence.

Not a gasp. Not a cry.

Just the sound of Rani blinking.

And then…

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She looked down at her stomach, still round, still warm as if expecting to feel a kick, a flutter, anything.

Nothing.

“You’re saying…” she finally whispered, voice cracking, “The baby’s gone?”

The doctor lowered her head. “Yes. I’m deeply sorry. The stress, the fall, the trauma… your body couldn’t sustain it.”

Elise let out a trembling breath, tears spilling over as she instinctively reached for Rani’s hand.

But Rani didn’t move.

She just stared blankly ahead.

Her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, like she was trying to hold back the collapse that was coming from inside. Her whole world had shifted in a single sentence. She had sacrificed her pride, endured betrayal, protected the secret for weeks… all for that life inside her.

Gone.

Gone, just like that.

The door to Rani’s hospital room opened again, but this time, it wasn’t a doctor.

It was her mother.

“Anak…” Margaret whispered as she rushed inside, tears already running down her cheeks. Her heels clicked against the linoleum as she reached her daughter’s bedside, placing a trembling hand over Rani’s. “Oh, Rani…”

Behind her, Ramil entered, his usual composed face drawn tight with worry. And then Rawid, her younger sister, followed with her eyes already red from crying. The room felt suddenly smaller, heavier, as their presence filled the space with both warmth and heartbreak.

Elise stood from her chair, wiping her own tears and stepping back to give the family room. “I called them, Ma’am,” she said softly, voice thick. “You shouldn’t go through this alone.”

But Rani didn’t speak.

She lay there, eyes unfocused on the wall, lips slightly parted, her body unmoving except for the rise and fall of her chest. Her mother leaned in and cupped her face, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“We’re here now,” Margaret whispered, brushing back Rani’s hair. “We’re here, anak. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Still, nothing.

Until…

“I did everything right,” Rani finally said, her voice hollow, distant. “I kept it a secret. I stayed composed. I endured Lamia… I even kept Peterson away for Faisal’s sake… and still…”

Her chest rose sharply, and then the dam broke.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as Margaret leaned in and embraced her daughter, pulling her close like a child. Rani didn’t fight it. She clutched her mother tightly, sobbing into her shoulder, the sound of grief raw and quiet, like something sacred being torn apart.

“I already loved them, Mom…” she whispered hoarsely. “I already loved my baby…”

Ramil came closer, placing a hand on Rani’s leg, his own eyes moist. “We’re going to get through this,” he said quietly. “You’re not alone. No more secrets. No more pain like this.”

Margaret nodded, kissing Rani’s temple. “From now on, anak, we protect you. We protect what’s left.”

Elise stood by the window, wiping her tears, jaw tight. She wasn’t family, but in that moment, she was part of this heartbreak too.

And in the back of everyone’s mind, one name pulsed with fury,

Peterson.

If he ever showed his face again, they all knew it wouldn’t end with just rage.

Her dad sat down heavily beside the bed, fingers trembling as he reached for her hand. “Rani…” His voice was low, almost breaking. “Tell us. What’s really going on? Are the rumors true? Lamia… and Peterson?”

Rani swallowed hard, the bitter truth clawing at her throat. Her eyes, glossy with unshed tears, met her dad’s. “Yes, Dad… It’s true. Lamia’s back with Peterson. Behind everyone’s backs… behind mine.”

Her mom’s breath caught, her knuckles whitening as she gripped Rani’s hand. “How long…? How long has this been happening?”

“A few months now,” Rani confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “I knew. I tried to ignore it… I thought if I stayed quiet, things might get better. But they didn’t.”

Her dad’s jaw clenched tightly, eyes burning with anger. “And Peterson… what did he do? Tell me the truth.”

The memory surged forward, the violent shove, the sharp sting of pain, the crimson spreading like a dark cloud over her happiness. She closed her eyes, her voice trembling as she forced the words out. “He pushed me, Dad. I was bleeding… I couldn’t stop. And… I lost the baby.”

Her mom’s eyes welled with tears, her voice breaking as she pulled Rani close. “Oh, my poor girl…”

Her dad’s hands balled into fists on the armrest. “That bastard. If he ever lays a hand on you again, I swear to God, I’ll make him pay.”

Rani’s own tears spilled free, her body shaking with the weight of grief. “I wanted to be strong, for Faisal, for us. But every day feels like I’m drowning in this… this pain. How do I even begin to heal?”

Her mom kissed her forehead, her voice a soothing balm. “One day at a time, anak. We’ll be here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

From the doorway, Elise stepped softly inside, her eyes red but steady. “Ma’am.”

Rani’s lips curled into a faint, grateful smile. “Thank you, Elise. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her dad’s voice, though filled with rage, softened. “We’ll protect you, Rani. Whatever it takes. But for now… rest. Heal.”

As the family surrounded her, offering what comfort they could, Rani felt the storm inside her rage and sorrow slowly begin to calm… if only a little. She knew the fight wasn’t over. Not yet. But with her mom and dad by her side, maybe she could find the strength to face whatever darkness was coming next.

After 10 minutes, Lamia came. Surprise

Lamia’s breath caught as Ramil’s harsh words sank in. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her chest, suffocating and relentless. For the first time, the truth she had buried deep inside slammed into her like a tidal wave, Rani was pregnant. And now… the baby was gone.

Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know Rani was pregnant.”

Ramil’s glare softened for just a moment, but the anger remained. “Of course you didn’t. You never cared enough to ask, did you? And now look at what your careless choices have done.”

Tears welled in Lamia’s eyes, guilt clawing its way through the walls she had built. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t been so selfish…”

Ramil cut her off sharply. “It’s not just on you. But you have to face it now. Rani’s suffering because of this… because of what’s been going on between you and Peterson.”

Lamia’s hands clenched into fists. “I thought I was protecting myself, protecting all of us. But I didn’t see… I didn’t see how much damage it would cause.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unforgiving.

Ramil’s voice softened, but it carried the weight of a father’s pain. “You owe her the truth. And more than that, you owe Faisal a chance at a family that isn’t torn apart.”

Lamia nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. The façade of strength cracked, leaving her raw and broken.

——

The hospital hallway was quiet… eerily so. A nurse walked briskly by, avoiding eye contact. A faint echo of crying from another room lingered in the air, but none of it reached Peterson as he sat on the cold bench, head bowed low, hands clenched between his knees. The weight of what he had done suffocated him.

The door creaked open.

He looked up… and froze.

Lamia.

She stood there like a tempest in black, her coat still on, her lipstick faded, her eyeliner smeared from whatever storm of emotion she’d weathered inside that hospital room. But nothing about her face was soft. Nothing was kind.

Only fury.

Lamia strode toward him, her heels clicking sharply on the tile.

“Lamia… babe,” Peterson stood, voice shaking, eyes pleading.

SLAP!

His head snapped to the side as her palm struck his face with unforgiving force. His cheek stung, but he didn’t react. He knew he deserved that… and more.

“You bastard,” she growled, her voice low and shaking. “She was pregnant, Peterson. Pregnant. And now the baby’s gone. Because of you.”

“I didn’t know,” he choked out. “I swear to you, Lamia, I didn’t know she was…”

“But you hurt her!” she shouted, stepping closer. “You pushed her. You laid your damn hands on her! What if she hit her head? What if it wasn’t just the baby?”

“I lost control!” he snapped back, and instantly regretted it.

Lamia’s jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “You lost control,” she repeated in disbelief. “Do you know how pathetic that sounds coming out of your mouth? You lost control and now our baby is dead.”

Peterson’s eyes reddened. “Lamia, I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying that!” she screamed, eyes welling up. “You think ‘sorry’ fixes this? You think I can look at Rani again and not see what you did to her? You think I can ever look at myself and not remember I let you back in?”

He reached for her, desperate. “Don’t do this. Lamia… please, I made a mistake…”

“No,” she whispered, stepping back. “This isn’t just a mistake. This is who you are.”

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you. I still do.”

She stared at him for a long, long second.

Then she shook her head slowly. “You don’t love me. If you did, you’d have never touched her. You would have never come into our home just to pushed her, never disrespected our son, our marriage, me. You didn’t love me. You just loved what we used to be.”

Tears welled in Peterson’s eyes. “Please, Lamia. Don’t do this. I…I’ll do anything…”

She cut him off, voice cold and final. “It’s over, Peterson. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to hear your name. If I ever see you near our penthouse or my son, I’ll call the police.”

Peterson’s voice faltered. “Lamia, please…”

She turned on her heel.

And paused.

“But thank you,” she said bitterly, without looking back. “Because of you, I finally know what I have to do.”

Then she walked away, never once turning around.

——

The fluorescent light above Rani’s hospital bed buzzed faintly.

Night had blanketed the city outside the hospital window, and the usual rush of doctors and nurses slowed to a quiet hum. A calmness filled the room, a cruel kind of calm, the kind that only follows after disaster. Machines beeped rhythmically beside Rani’s bed, her face pale, her eyes closed, and her breathing shallow but stable. She hadn’t spoken much since waking up. She hadn’t cried either.

She didn’t have to.

The silence in the room screamed louder than any sob could.

Across the room, Lamia sat rigidly on the couch, her designer coat draped over her lap, her arms crossed tightly to hold her trembling hands. She hadn’t changed out of the black slacks she wore at work, and her heels sat discarded on the floor beside her. Her eyes had bags under them now, not the kind you could fix with concealer.

She hadn’t said anything since Rani turned away earlier. Not even when the doctor had come in to check her vitals. Not even when Peterson was escorted out by security after being questioned.

Manang Sally sat quietly in the chair between them, holding a thermos of lukewarm salabat. Her eyes darted between the two women, her heart aching silently. She could feel it, the thick, charged air between the wives. She knew better than to ask questions.

But Lamia’s guilt was heavy. Suffocating.

She looked at Rani… still, wounded, broken, and felt her throat tighten.

“Manang…” Lamia finally whispered, barely audible, her voice hoarse.

“O, iha?” Manang Sally turned to her gently, concern written across her weathered face.

“If Mama and Babba find out…” Lamia shook her head slowly, her jaw clenching. “I’m dead.”

Manang nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of that truth. “Si Sir Jazed… hindi niya ‘to mapapalagpas,” she said quietly. “Lalo na kapag nalaman niya ang ginawa ni Sir Peterson. Lalo na kapag nalaman niya na kayo…”

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” Lamia cut in, voice low but strained. “I swear to God, Manang… I didn’t know.”

“Hinayaan niyo siya,” Manang said, not cruelly, but not sugarcoated either. “Hinayaan niyo siya na bumalik sa buhay niyo, sa bahay niyo.”

Lamia leaned forward, her hands shaking. “I thought I was still in control. I thought… I could handle it.” She scoffed bitterly. “Of course I couldn’t. Of course he’d destroy everything.”

Manang looked at her softly. “Nagmahal ka ng maling tao.”

“I hated the right woman,” Lamia muttered, eyes falling to her lap. “And now…”

They both looked toward the bed.

Rani stirred slightly in her sleep, one arm wrapped over her torso. Even in slumber, her pain was written across her face.

Lamia’s throat burned.

“I don’t even know how to say sorry to her,” Lamia whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to face her, Manang. After everything…”

Manang Sally gave no comfort… only the truth. “Hindi mo naman po kailangan alamin kung paano. Sa ngayon kailangan po ay nasa tabi niya kayo sa oras na magising siya.”

Lamia nodded weakly.

And so she sat.

Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Inside the dim hospital room, regret, silence, and the stench of consequence hung thick in the air.

Lamia’s phone buzzed.

It was a message from her mother.

Victoria Al-Gaddafi
Where are you? We just landed. Your babba is furious.

She didn’t reply.

She couldn’t.

Because when the Al-Gadaffi patriarch arrived, Lamia knew…

The storm wasn’t over. It was only beginning.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that dared to move in the heavy stillness of the hospital room. Lamia sat silently in the darkened corner, her legs pulled up onto the couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to keep the weight of everything from crushing her. Her eyes hadn’t moved from Rani in the last hour.

Then…
A shift in the air.
A rustle of sheets.
A soft gasp.

Lamia’s head snapped up.

Rani’s lashes fluttered, her brows furrowing slightly before her eyes opened. Slowly. Painfully. Her face was pale, lips dry. She blinked once… twice… her gaze focusing… until it landed on Lamia.

Her breath caught.

“W-what…” Rani croaked, her voice rasping like sandpaper. She tried to sit up, wincing immediately from the ache in her abdomen. Her hand flew instinctively to her stomach.

And then…
Nothing.

Just silence.

No heartbeat.
No kicks.
No flutter.

Nothing.

Her face froze. Her chest rose in shallow breaths. Her lips quivered. “No…” she whispered. “No, no, no…”

Lamia stood slowly from her chair, eyes wide, hesitant. “Rani…”

But Rani’s eyes snapped toward her, sharper than glass, colder than death.

“Where is he?” she demanded, voice suddenly strong with fury and pain. “Where is that bastard?”

Lamia didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

“Where is Peterson?” Rani shrieked now, sitting up despite the pain, hands trembling violently. “Where is that fucking killer?!”

“Rani…”

“Don’t,” she spat, pointing a shaking finger at Lamia. “Don’t you dare. You let him into our lives. You let him near me. And now,” her voice cracked as her hands gripped the sheets, “…now our baby is gone because of him!”

Lamia’s eyes welled, but she forced herself to remain still.

“He hurt me!” Rani screamed, tears streaking down her cheeks, raw and furious. “He pushed me, he laid his hands on me… and for what? Because I wanted him out of our home?!”

“Rani, I didn’t know,” Lamia whispered, voice breaking. “I didn’t know he’d…”

“Oh, save it,” Rani snapped, her voice biting, savage. “You always knew what kind of man he was. You just didn’t care as long as you had him back in your bed, right?” She laughed bitterly, eyes shining with pain. “Well congratulations, Lamia. You got him. And now I lost everything.”

Lamia stepped closer, guilt flooding her face. “You didn’t lose everything…”

Rani turned her head away. “I lost my child.”

That silenced the room. Even the monitors seemed to lower their hum.

A breathless second passed. Lamia stopped in her tracks.

“I hope that baby haunts you,” Rani whispered, almost broken. “Both of you.”

She turned her face to the wall. Closed her eyes. And didn’t say another word.

Lamia stood frozen by the bed, her hand covering her mouth as the crushing weight of everything settled on her chest.

The consequences of her silence. The cost of her indecision. And the death of something that never even got a chance to live.