“I wanted that baby,” I murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Maybe not for the right reasons, but I still wanted it.”
Merge wasn’t just a man; he was an entire upgrade. Becoming his wife meant a lifetime of luxury, respect, and security. I could’ve dealt with his coldness, the way he looked at me sometimes like I was an inconvenience he had to tolerate, the silence, the distance, the nights he didn't come home, and the mornings he barely acknowledged I existed.
Why?
Because at the end of the day, I still would’ve beenMrs. Belvior.I’d still have the name, the status, and the life I’d dreamed about since I was a little girl watching reality TV and imagining what it would feel like to bethatwoman.
Yeah, I had my boutique, my name in certain circles, and my own money. But beingMrs. Belvior? That was different. That was the promise I made to that little girl who watched her mother work two jobs and still couldn’t keep the lights on. Now that promise looks nothing but a cruel fucking joke, because I can’t give him the one thing he actually needs from me.
And without that, I was just another disposable woman in his world. And I knew what happened to people who couldn’t deliver in the Belvior family. I’d heard the whispers and saw the way certain names justdisappearedfrom conversations.
People were useful one day and gone the next, like they’d never existed at all.
I also knew Merge didn't tolerate failure or weakness… and I’d just become both.
A gem from my grandmother floated back to me at that moment.
When you chase things that glitter, you end up swallowing glass.
I laughed at that once, now it felt like prophecy.
My own voice answered back in my head.
Then maybe I just need sharper teeth.
I sat up straighter and wiped the smudge of mascara from beneath my eye.
If I couldn’t carry Merge’s child, I’d find another way to make myself impossible to replace.
He might hate me, but he won’t get rid of me that easily.
Chapter four
Haelyn Thibodeaux
The courtroom felt colder than I remembered, and not from the air, but from the chilling scrutiny of the eyes surrounding me. My fingers twitched restlessly at my side, nails pressing half-moons into the tender flesh of my palm as I fought to maintain my composure.
Stay calm, Haelyn,I silently reminded myself.
The judge peered down at me over thin glasses, tapping a file against the desk, the sound echoing in the silence.
“Miss Thibodeaux, you’ve been a guest of the state for quite some time now… ten years, to be exact.”
“Yes, Your Honor!” I answered sharply.
“Ten years.” She shook her head slowly, her tone half-pity, half-warning. “You were twenty when you stood in this very courtroom, accused of taking the life of your boyfriend, Jace Boyd and his…” she paused, glancing at the papers before her, “girlfriendTaji Lawson. You pled insanity and were subsequently remanded to Willowgate Psychiatric Hospital. Do you recall those events?”
Her eyes slid up from the file, cold and assessing.
Of course I remember. I remember every second, every stab, every scream, and every drop of blood. And I’ve lived with it in a room no bigger than a walk-in closet for a decade.
I was tempted to let that spill, but my lips stayed shut. That wasn’t the time for truth; that was the time for survival.
Jace…
He was my ex-boyfriend. I met him online when I was seventeen and he was twenty.
Yeah, he was what people would consider “overage” for me, but when love is new, exciting, and feels like it’s the most important thing in the world, age doesn’t seem like such a big deal, and common sense seems to take a backseat.
