The moment the door clicked shut, the air changed. Zoraya sat up slightly, the IV tape pulling on her arm. Her lips curled into a smirk so sharp it could’ve slit my throat.
“See, Savannah?” she whispered. “He hit you for me. Seven years with him meant nothing. I’ve had him for seven months, and he’s already mine.”
I stared at her. I didn’t speak. I didn’t cry.
“You’re just a placeholder,” she said, voice dripping with pity. “A pretty maid in a silk dress. That’s all you ever were.”
I didn’t move. I just stared at the floor, counting the cracks in the tile because that was easier than screaming.
The door opened.
And suddenly Zoraya let out the most pathetic, fake sob I’d ever heard in my life.
“Please!” she wailed. “Please stop hurting me and my baby, Savannah! I know you hate me, but please let me keep this child!”
Zeus rushed to her side like some goddamn hero in a soap opera.
“What the fuck is going on?!”
“She tried to rip out my IV!” Zoraya cried louder, curling into herself. “She said I don’t deserve to carry your child! She tried to hit me, Zeus—she tried to hurt our baby!”
I didn’t even bother defending myself. Because what was the point?
He turned to me, jaw clenched, eyes wild.