The surgical light was blinding. I thrashed against the restraints until the straps carved raw, bleeding lines into my wrists.
"Stan Delgado, you'll rot in hell for this!"
"Let me go!"
Stan stood beside the operating table, his expression empty.
"Jade, this is what you owe Annette."
He turned to leave. The moment he did, a violent cramp tore through my abdomen.
"It hurts..."
"God, it hurts..."
The doctor rushed over to examine me. The color drained from his face.
"Mr. Delgado, she... she's pregnant!"
"There are signs of a threatened miscarriage. If we proceed with the kidney extraction now, both the mother and the baby could die."
Stan froze mid-step.
He turned slowly and stared at my flat stomach.
"What did you just say?"
The doctor's voice trembled. "She's almost two months along."
Two months. That lined up exactly with the night we signed our marriage certificate. The night he forced himself on me.
The pain was dragging me under, but I clung to the sheets with white-knuckled fists.
"Stan..."
"Please... save the baby..."
This was my flesh and blood. No matter how much I despised Stan, I couldn't let my child die.
Stan's expression shifted, unreadable, warring with itself.