Rose Harrison woke in a fog. A sharp, rhythmic throb deep in her abdomen made her hiss, her breath hitching in her throat. She stared at the ceiling with dead, unfocused eyes. Everything was white—the walls, the sheets, the fixtures. It felt like a tomb.

She sat up, her movements sluggish. A nurse stood over her, pushing a clear, viscous liquid into the IV line.

Rose watched the fluid snake through the plastic tubing, drop by drop, entering her veins.

"What are you pumping into me?" she rasped.

The nurse didn't look up.

"I'm talking to you," Rose snarled, her voice raw. "What is that?"

"Your body is weak, Mrs. Anderson. Stay calm, or you'll risk going into shock."

Rose gripped the bed rail, desperation clawing at her throat. "The baby... is my baby still there? Tell me. Please, he’s still with me, right?"

The nurse paused, her expression unreadable. "The fetus is still there, but..."

"But what?"

"It’s a stillborn. This drip will help your body pass the tissue. It’s for your own safety. If you keep it in your womb, it will poison you."

"No," Rose choked out. "You're lying."

"Poor thing," the nurse sighed, shaking her head as she pushed her cart toward the door.

The silence that followed was deafening. Memories of Delilah Kelly surfaced like bile. They’d met as roommates, back when life was simple. Then Delilah had left for a lover, only to resurface after Rose had already married Maximus Anderson.

She had been the blind fool, the one who didn't know her husband had been pining for her best friend the whole time.

"Ah!" A violent cramp ripped through her lower abdomen. The drug was working.

She mashed the call button. The nurse returned quickly to escort her to the surgical suite for the procedure.

*I'm so sorry, little one,* she thought, tears hot and stinging against her temples. *I couldn't even give you a life.*

As the anesthesia began to cloud her mind, she stared at the sterile tiles above. Any sliver of hope she had held for Maximus Anderson evaporated, leaving only a cold, hollow shell.

Was this the price for being the "other woman," even when she hadn't known it?

She remembered the Anderson Group’s tenth-anniversary gala. One look at Maximus had convinced her that he was her future. She hadn't known then that Delilah was already obsessed with him. The web of lies had only grown tighter until this.

She watched through a haze as the surgeon prepared the instruments. It was all so clinical, so cruel.

*His own flesh and blood.* She closed her eyes, two lines of tears carving paths through her pale skin. *How could he be so monstrous? Even a beast doesn't devour its own young.*

The love she once held for Maximus Anderson had curdled into a hate so pure, so sharp, it was the only thing keeping her alive.