Chapter 3
430words
"She's bleeding! Someone call an ambulance!"
Samuel's hand froze mid-air. He stared at the blood streaming down my legs, rage instantly replaced by terror.
Pain drained all color from my face as cold sweat soaked through my dress. I could barely stand, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath.
Suddenly, a cold, malicious laugh came from above. Something hard struck my pregnant belly with violent force.
It was Rachel! She'd risen unnoticed and was repeatedly slamming her handbag into my swollen abdomen.
"You dare hit me? You filthy whore! You and that bastard in your belly deserve to die!"
She yanked my hair, eyes blazing with hatred, dumping lipstick and face powder from her purse onto my head as I retched in agony.
The pain in my abdomen intensified unbearably. Blood flowed more heavily, staining my dress crimson.
In my terror and agony, I instinctively called the name etched into my soul: "Samuel..."
Rachel responded with even more frenzied attacks and curses.
"How dare a worthless parasite who can't even support herself get pregnant with his child!"
I froze completely, my heart plunging into an icy abyss, waves of pain radiating through me.
Memory's floodgates burst open. I was transported back to that cold, rainy night.
At twenty, my father's investments collapsed, his company bankrupted, and he jumped to his death. Overnight, I plummeted from privilege to desperation, hounded by debt collectors. Samuel Sanders had rescued me like a beacon of light, paying my debts and giving me shelter.
Those were my darkest days.
And now, Samuel had shared my deepest wounds, my most shameful past, with Rachel Lawrence.
Blood surged from my mouth as unstoppable tears streamed down my face. Through the haze, I heard Samuel's desperate voice.
"Stop! Rachel, I said STOP!"
With my last strength, I tried to look up, but my feeble gaze was met with Rachel's theatrical sobbing: "Samuel! My wrist... she scratched me! It hurts so much!"
I watched helplessly as Samuel rushed to her side, shoving me aside.
He gently helped Rachel to her feet, examining her "injured" wrist before hurriedly leading her away.
He passed by without even glancing at me lying in my own blood.
In the darkness, my phone screen illuminated with a message from Samuel.
"Winnie Thompson, beg me, and I'll take you to the hospital."
I stared at those words and suddenly laughed—laughed until tears streamed down my face.
Those words were painfully familiar. He'd said the exact same thing when forcing me to leave years ago.
