Chapter 7

Elizabeth barely caught his words, and instantly, her heart clenched with pain, but the tears never came. Her hollow eyes were dull, lifeless. After William left, Anna didn't even dare step closer thanks to his orders. Elizabeth lay there staring at the ceiling, her body shaking uncontrollably. All she could see was the ceiling turning crimson, like blood was spilling down from above, surging toward her. She couldn't move, couldn't escape. Her voice cracked in her throat, only managing a low raspy sound. The nightmare never stopped. Every time she shut her eyes, it felt like invisible hands tugged her straight into hell, dragging her under, relentless and cruel. Watching Elizabeth cry and beg for her child in her sleep, William, who had rushed over after hearing about her condition, felt as though he'd been slapped hard across the face. “Still scared?” he asked. She woke up with a jolt, gasping for breath. William stood by her bed, gaze steely and distant. “It's been so long, and you're still hung up on that kid. Did it ever occur to you how I feel?” Elizabeth looked at him, or rather, through him, like her eyes couldn't land on anything real. He hated that look the most—that dead, abandoned stare. With a sharp tug, he yanked on the sheets binding her wrist, sneering, “Maybe if you tried pleasing me, I'd consider letting you go.” Her eyes met his again, but all she saw was cold distance and disdain. He never had warmth—not for her. That side of him was only for Catherine. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him to care. “I've spent my whole life…” Her voice cracked, “...just being sad.” When William leaned in closer, that was the sentence that reached his ears, and it nearly made his blood boil. “Love is a curse,” she choked out. “I don't want it anymore. I'd rather just hate.” “You hate me?” William slammed his fist into the mattress beside her, hand buried in the blankets. She was already too weak to handle his outbursts. With clenched teeth and heaving chest, he forced himself to calm down. “Fine. Then hate me for the rest of your damn life.” The door slammed so hard the walls shook. Silence fell again. Elizabeth lay there, still as stone. Her gaze hadn't changed—numb, desolate, utterly lost. Another two months passed. Time blurred, days and nights twisted together. What slipped away wasn't time—it was her will to live. “She's had a high fever for three days now. She needs a hospital, now!” “Call Mr. Turner back, fast!” She couldn't tell who was speaking. Everything sounded muffled. Eyes shut, her head spun, waves of nausea hitting hard and fast. Hands tried giving her meds again. She swallowed with effort. But the next wave hit harder—pain flared in her lower abdomen, hot and sharp. “She's pregnant! How could none of you know?! What the hell were you doing? If anything happens to her, I swear I'll make every single one of you pay!” William roared, voice shaking with fury. Pregnant? Her child... another child... A faint shimmer returned to Elizabeth's lifeless eyes. With all the strength she could gather, she reached out and grabbed William's sleeve, like grasping the last bit of hope in her wrecked world. “Please… just save the baby…” And then, darkness swallowed her. Her body gave in. In that vast, suffocating blackness, even the sound of a baby crying seemed distant and faint. William didn't hesitate. He scooped her into his arms and bolted out the door. Once again, Elizabeth ended up in the ER. Watching the bleeding worsen, a doctor prepared to remove the fetus to save her life, when Catherine stepped in. “Wait,” she said. “I need to check with Mr. Turner first. If he blows up, no one here's gonna be safe.” Everyone froze. They all knew the baby couldn't be saved—but after seeing William's reaction, none of them dared risk it. “Thanks, Director,” someone offered softly. Catherine nodded. No one noticed the cold glint in her eyes. Losing the baby wasn't enough—she wanted Elizabeth to never be able to have another one again.