Part 1After the Kneeling

Seven years of marriage, and my husband had slept his way through half of Hollywood.

I was thirty-nine weeks pregnant when his latest pet, a starlet he was bankrolling, offended a major client at a gala. To save the deal, Chris demanded that I kneel and apologize on her behalf.

I stared at him in disbelief. "I'm pregnant, Chris. How can I kneel? What if I hurt the baby—"

He cut me off, his voice laced with ice. "It's just kneeling. Since when did you become so fragile?"

He dragged me in front of the client and forced my head down. The sudden, violent motion sent a sharp pain through my abdomen, and my water broke.

Beside me, the starlet, Evelyn, pinched her nose with a sneer. "Oh, dear. Did she just piss herself from fright?"

That same day, I hemorrhaged during labor and nearly went into shock. Meanwhile, photos of Chris and Evelyn tangled in bed together were trending online.

When his sister, Isabella, rushed to the hospital, my voice was unnaturally calm.

"You promised me," I said, my gaze fixed on the sterile white ceiling. "You promised that once I had the baby, you'd let me go. Can I leave now?"

* * *

A flicker of hesitation crossed Isabella's eyes. "Heidi, are you really sure about this? Chris… he's just lost right now. He doesn't understand how good you are for him. Maybe if you just—"

Just then, a push notification lit up my phone screen. It was a video of Chris celebrating Evelyn’s birthday.

He stood behind her, his hands covering hers as they sliced into a towering cake. Evelyn wore a high-necked dress, a futile attempt to hide the faint bruises of love bites on her exposed skin.

"They say Mr. Astor can't stand his wife," someone cooed off-camera, "but look how he dotes on her. Mrs. Astor is such a lucky woman." The speaker, a sycophantic industry type, slid a business card toward Evelyn.

Hearing the words "Mrs. Astor," Evelyn beamed and accepted the card.

Someone else, clearly in on the joke, chimed in. "Come on, Chris! Give your 'wife' a proper French kiss!"

Chris didn’t bother to correct them. He simply wrapped a hand around Evelyn’s waist and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss.

Isabella looked at me, her face burning with shame. Expecting tears, she pulled me into a hug. "Heidi, I was wrong. I was so wrong to force you two together. I agree. You can leave."

But I didn't cry. I had cried myself dry on the delivery table.

"Do you want to see the baby before you go?" she asked softly.

The baby.

My heart clenched, a fist squeezing it tight. The precious child I had walked through the gates of hell to bring into this world. To say I felt nothing would be a lie.

My thoughts were interrupted as Isabella returned, carrying a small, swaddled bundle.

"Heidi, look at him. He's so perfect. The doctors said he's a healthy six and a half pounds—"

"Enough," I whispered, turning my head away, my nails digging into my palms. "Don't say any more."

Don't look back, Heidi. The voice in my head was firm. If you're going to leave, you can't have any attachments.

Isabella froze, her steps faltering. She handed the baby back to a nurse before furiously dialing Chris's number.

"Isabella, I told you, I'm on a business trip," Chris's voice came through the speaker, slick and annoyed. "Don't call me—"

"A business trip? Your 'business trip' is headlining every gossip site in the country! Do you think I'm blind?"

The playful tone in Chris's voice curdled into anger. "I take it Heidi has been whining to you again. I should have known. Put her on."

Isabella handed me the phone.

As I brought it to my ear, I could hear a woman’s soft, breathy moans in the background.

Tears of rage and shame welled in Isabella's eyes. "Heidi," she said, her voice thick with regret. "As soon as you're recovered, in one week, you're free to go."