The Unwanted Wife's Ultimate Escape Plan

, but her arms gave out, leaving her trembling violently against the stone. There was no strength left to scrub the horrific stain that mocked her loss. Instead, she managed only to drag hers

against the overwhelming urg

rs. She couldn't stay here. She had to escape this mausoleum. She leaned heavily against the handrails of the subway heading to her office in

s for the new Hudson Yards residential tower blurred on the screen in front of her. Each line, each

you've seen a

thing she had to a friend at the firm, place

t felt like cracking pla

ver the side, spilling across her desk, soaking a stack of schematics. Th

, far more intense than anything from the night be

could physically hold herself together. The movement sent a heavy por

ll silent. Heads popped

you okay?" Jenna crie

d to say something, anything, but the world tilted and went dark. Her body

ights of an emergency room. A nurse named Rossi was taping an IV line

uma bay burst open.

resident aside. Her eyes, usually so full of warmth and hu

commanding as she snapped orders to the nursing staff. Then her hands reached Chloe's abdomen, and her expre

nce broken only by the quiet hum of medical equipm

mask of cold fury. She saw him striding down the corridor, his tailored suit unwrinkle

said, her voice

g when he saw the look in her eyes. "Moira.

weeks pregnant," she bit out, each word a shard of glass. "Was. She miscarrie

or. He staggered back a step, his hand coming up to

matter,"

led Julian's number. It rang for a long time. Finally, Juli

ast night?" Calvin demanded, his v

alking about," Julian said, his tone laced with

off, his voice rising to a shout. "Pregna

t was so profound that Calvin could hear the distinct, s

sper, filled with a disgust so deep it sounded like he was cho

the phone, ragged and heavy, b

en't already," Calvin said, then ended t

ered open. The anesthetic was wearing

her cool hand covering Chloe's.

down, instinctively moving to her flat stomach. The emptiness there wa

ike the slow, silent turning of a key in a loc

didn't sob or scream. She just bit down on her l

ng her tightly. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. I

last, fragile thread of hope she had clung to-the memory of a man who h

, a heavy, weary sound, and pulled out his phone again. He typed out a short, simp