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Faked Death, Found Freedom

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 1159    |    Released on: Today at 11:08

ept moving, each step propelling me further from the gilded cage he called our home. His frustra

hite confetti scattered across the pristine marble, a stark visual representation of his refusal. He wouldn

other, and take the child? Unless... unless the optics were too bad. Unless he needed the image of a grie

. Anika McCall. My stomach lurched. I almost dropp

n' s shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around her, his hand resting on her waist, just above her hip.

st a picture. Th

s your pregnancy might be affecting your jud

o assert her claim. She saw me as a means to an end, a temporary inconvenience. And the casual cruel

ing a small, intricately carved wooden bird. I knew that bird. It was a gift I' d spent weeks designing and crafting

finger, was my wedding ring. The simple plat

er audacity, the deliberate psychological warfare. She wasn't an innocent ingé

y yours to begin with, Eli

from Holden to me, until Anika was ready to claim it. The realization settled deep in my gut, cold and

e of bile and the burning humiliation. I looked in the mirror, my reflection pale and gaunt, dark circles under my eyes. My once vibrant

oursed through me. I grabbed my phone

ut you will never, ever have my son. Not over my d

ed warning sign. I remembered all the times he' d called to berate me,

' then 'block cont

. "I need to move out," I stated, my voice clipped,

the other end said, his voice surprisingly

urniture, the designer clothes, the glittering jewelry-none of it meant anything to me now.

s, my worn-out drawing sketchbook. The rest, th

ome. It was a tomb, a gilded mausoleum where my love had died a slow, painful death. Now, it was a p

all potted plant on the windowsill, a symbol of new beginnings. The sun stream

it was Holden. He must have used a different phone. I a

g?" His voice was a furious snarl. "Anika just

calm, almost detached. "That I'm

walk away? And after what you said to Anika? She's di

lve. "Her heart condition isn't my problem, Holden. And neither is your distr

to that dangerous, controlling tone. "You will come home a

ping my lips. "You can beg, Holden. You can grove

h other. Let them have their lies, their arrangements, their twist

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