She pulled a box cutter from a drawer and held the blade near my face.

Just as I gave in to despair, Jessica's phone rang again.

It was Grant.

Jessica answered.

"That file for the Southbridge project. I need it now. Get it ready for me."

"Of course, Mr. Sterling."

"I'll be at the office in about ten minutes."

Hearing this, Jessica frowned slightly, her voice full of fake concern.

"Mr. Sterling, the sun is so strong today. What if you get overheated? I can have Jenna bring it down to you."

"It's fine, I'm passing by the building anyway."

"Okay, Mr. Sterling. I'll have Jenna meet you in the underground parking garage."

"Mm."

I was completely hopeless.

The others were already fawning over Jessica, praising how thoughtful she was, how she wouldn't let Grant suffer even the slightest discomfort.

Jessica wore the expression of a doting wife. "Of course. True love means protecting someone from everything."

Suddenly, she glared down at me, her voice sharp. "But anyone who looks at my man gets completely destroyed!"

My face was swollen and bruised. My thin underclothes offered no coverage, and huge patches of my skin were exposed to the cold air. My once-swelling belly was now slack and empty.

I knew then that I wasn't going to make it out of this.

I touched my empty stomach, silent tears streaming down my face.

I'm so sorry, my sweet, unborn child.

I stared with pure hatred at every single person in that room, vowing to burn their faces into my memory so I could avenge my baby.

Especially Jessica. I would make her pay in blood.

"What's with that look?"

Jessica slapped me again. "You really won't give up, will you?"

Her eyes darkened. "Are those breasts real? They're so big. Maybe I should help you let some of the air out."

She advanced on me with the box cutter.

She was a monster, a demon coming for me.

"Aah!"

My scream echoed as the blade plunged deep into my chest, and blood began to pour out.

The pain was so intense I almost passed out, too weak to even move my body.

Just then.

Grant's voice came from outside the door.

"Jessica, where's my file?"

Jessica's hand jerked, and the box cutter fell to the floor.

She shot a look at the other assistants, then smoothed her clothes and pushed the door open.

"Mr. Sterling, you're here so fast."

"The file."

"Right here. I'll get it for you."

A moment of silence.

I tried to call out, forcing my mouth open with every ounce of strength I had, but no sound came out.

The secretaries around me watched like vultures.

The door was closed. Grant couldn't see me.

No, I had to do something, anything to get his attention.

The room was filled with tables and chairs.

While the others were distracted, I dragged my body across the floor, reached for a chair, and tried to knock it over.

But I was too weak. All I could manage was a weak scrape of the chair leg against the table.

One of the secretaries glanced at the door, then let out a sigh of relief.

In the next instant, the box cutter was ripped from my chest.

She clamped one hand over my mouth, and with the other, she slammed the blade through the back of my hand, pinning it to the floor.

My screams were smothered by her palm, not a single sound escaping.

In that moment, I was consumed by hatred.

I hated that Grant was just on the other side of a door, completely unaware of my suffering.

I hated the woman he'd hired, the woman who had just murdered our child.

"Mr. Sterling, here is the file you needed."

"Thanks."

"Do you need me to go with you?"

"No."

The sound of his steady footsteps began to fade away.

Suddenly, his voice came from a distance, then grew closer. "By the way, where is that woman you mentioned today?"

Jessica's voice held a trace of panic, but she covered it well. "Why are you asking about that, Mr. Sterling? I already handled it."

"It's nothing. I just have a weird feeling today. Just asking. If she's gone, she's gone."

He started to walk away again.

I screamed silently in my head, sinking deeper into despair.

Then, Grant's footsteps stopped. He pointed at the lunch tote I had brought, which was still lying near the door.

"Where did this lunch tote come from?"

Grant’s deep voice was back, and this time, it held an unmistakable, uncertain tremor.