My vision tunnels; the alley narrows to a pinprick. My hands clench so hard my nails rip tiny crescent moons into my palms.
Valeria tilts her head, dark curls falling over her shoulders. “Are you going to stand there and tell me you’re willing to sacrifice her life, and her unborn child’s, just because you don’t want togive me what I want?” She steps back, smiling like she’s won. “To prove a point?”
I don’t speak. I don’t move. I’m fucking ice cold.
She tuts, soft and pitying. “That would make you a special kind of monster, wouldn’t it?”
There’s no fucking air as she turns, heels clicking, and walks toward the limo while I’m trying to reroute everything I know, because this… This. Changes. Everything.
The driver opens the door for her, and she pauses, glancing back at me. “At least you’remymonster.”
The door closes, and the limo pulls away, the clean-up crew van following suit. I stay in the alley long enough to feel the coke dissipate, like the tide going out and leaving only shitty wet sand and the dark at the edges of my mind.
Pregnant? She’s fucking pregnant?
I pull out my phone and find four missed calls and a text.
‘Call me. It’s important.’
Jesus. This can’t be happening.
My heart hammers a frantic, broken rhythm, each beat slamming like a fist I can’t dodge. I force myself to call her, thumb shaking so badly I nearly drop the phone. She picks up on the second ring.
“I was wondering when you’d call me back.”
I have to clamp my lips shut when her voice hits me—bright, warm, the only familiar thing I have left in this world. I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting to keep the raw panic out of my own.
“Hey,” I manage, the word scraping out like gravel. “Sorry. I was at this charity auction…you know…for, ah?—”
“Oh, Valeria told me about that. The children’s hospital foundation.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, but it feels like swallowing shards. “They’re raising funds for pediatric oncology research and new equipment. I just went to bid on a couple of pieces and show face for some old contacts.”
“I think it’s so great, what you’re doing. Helping all those children.” Pride threads through her tone, the kind of pride that used to make everything feel right. “Speaking of children. I have news.”
The floor drops out from under me. My stomach plummets, cold and sick, and I grip the phone so hard the edges bite into my palm. I shut my eyes tight, like that could block what’s coming.
“Reth,” she says, her voice trembling with joy now, vibrating with it. “I’m pregnant.”
Something vital inside me fractures, lungs seizing until every breath burns like inhaling broken glass. The coke still races under my skin, sharpening everything, but nothing can touch this black, suffocating weight crushing me.
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. My free hand claws at my shirt, as if I could rip the pain out, as if I could stop the world from tilting into something irreparable.
“Can you believe it? It’s a miracle,” she exclaims, laughing that soft, delighted laugh that once meant safety. “We didn’t think it would happen, but it’s true. God answers prayers.”
God? Prayers? Miracle?
“I can’t wait to be a mom.”
Fuck.
My mouth is a dry, numb thing. The words stick behind my teeth, glued there by the truth she doesn’t know—the truth I’ve dedicated my fucking life to protect her from.
The phone is slick in my hand, knuckles white, the metal warm from my grip as she continues. She’s already planning names, talking about cribs and ultrasounds, and every word lands in my gut like a fresh wound.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper, bracing myself with a palm against the wall, head hanging down, because…what the fuck?
What the fuck am I supposed to even say to her? Congratu-fucking-lations? So happy for you? Here’s to a life filled with love and happiness?
