But she thought I was lying. She wrenched her hand free, anger flashing across her face.
"You've really disappointed me. There's a limit to how far a lie should go. This is the capital, not some countryside courtyard of yours. One wrong word here can cost you your head."
She flicked her sleeves and turned on her heel.
"It's only barrenness. It won't kill you. Look after yourself."
I watched her walk away, and the last shred of hope inside me died.
I curled into the corner. The feeling below my waist began to fade, replaced by a pain so sharp I could barely breathe.
I would probably never have children again. And the one child I had prayed for day and night turned out to belong to someone else.
I drifted in and out of consciousness through the night. Below my waist, everything had gone numb long ago.
The door burst open with a single kick. Milton Stephens strode in with a handful of guards behind him.
He glanced at me, drenched in blood, then settled himself at the table and poured a cup of tea as though he had all the time in the world.
"Don't blame me. After all, the child in Lola's belly is mine. Can't very well have him calling another man father, can we?"