Chapter 2

The contractions grew more violent, my consciousness fading. But a voice screamed in my heart: Don’t give up. Never give up. Icicles clung to my eyelashes, each blink feeling like a thousand-pound weight. The cellar had dropped another ten degrees without warning. I curled on the damp floor, feeling life drain away with my body heat. My phone gave its final low-battery alert, flashing a harsh red in the dark. With trembling fingers, I sent one last text to Carter: Wine cellar. Save the baby... Consciousness blurred under pain and cold until familiar leather shoe steps echoed through the floor. I jolted, dragging myself to the iron door, nails scraping into the cracks. "Carter... please..." My voice was so hoarse I didn’t recognize it. Carter’s flashlight beam cut through the dark. When it swept over my blood-stained nightgown, his voice broke. "Ms. Alice? How did you—" "Get me to a hospital!" I clutched his cuff. Amniotic fluid and cold sweat soaked my hem. "Please, the baby can’t wait..." My heart hammered in my chest, as if ready to burst through my ribs. Just as Carter reached for the lockpick, his phone rang. I heard Noah Smith’s icy voice through the receiver: "Carter, remember who signs your paycheck. No one opens that door without my order." "Mr. Noah, Ms. Alice is in critical condition—" Carter pleaded urgently. "If she dares die, bury the entire Williams family with her." Noah’s tone was frostbite. A baby’s cry suddenly came from the background. "Tell her Sister-in-law just gave birth to a son. No more scheming." The click of the lock reengaging was a death knell. I collapsed, hand brushing my lower back—warm, sticky blood, not amniotic fluid. It pooled rapidly on the cold floor, turning gelatinous. My phone slipped from my palm. The lockscreen photo stabbed my eyes as it lit up: Noah Smith gently sliding a wedding ring onto my finger, his gaze tender, as if his promise to "protect me" still lingered. I’d been naive enough to think that was forever. Then, an eerie silence settled over my abdomen. The rhythmic contractions stalled; the flutters inside faded. I stroked my belly where life had thrived, feeling it drain away. A metallic taste flooded my throat, but I laughed—bitter, mocking laughter echoing through the empty cellar. The stench of disinfectant was a blunt knife in my nose. I forced my eyes open, wincing at the harsh fluorescent lights. My mother’s bloodshot eyes met mine; her trembling hand pinned down my attempt to yank out the IV. "Don’t move. The doctor said you had placental abruption. Another half hour and—" "Where’s the baby?" I seized her wrist, the chill of her skin making me shudder. Through the hospital room window, snowflakes drifted down. It was Christmas Eve, a day meant for new life. My mother turned away, her silver hair stark under the lights. On the nightstand lay a perfectly wrapped gift box, its red ribbon bow cruelly vibrant. I tore off the paper; a dazzling ruby necklace spilled into my hand. The card’s neat handwriting burned my eyes: To my little princess.