Blood filled my mouth before I understood I had fallen.

One second I was standing in our marble kitchen, one hand on my seven-month belly, the other holding a glass of water. The next, my cheek was against the cold floor, my ears ringing, my baby silent inside me.

Ethan stood above me, breathing hard.

Beside him, Vanessa clutched his arm like she owned it. Her diamond bracelet flashed under the lights—the one I had bought myself and “lost” three weeks ago.

“Ethan…” I whispered.

He crouched, his handsome face twisted into something I barely recognized. “Lose it,” he hissed. “Then I’ll marry her.”

Vanessa smiled.

Not shocked. Not afraid.

Pleased.

A sharp cramp tore through me. I curled around my stomach, fighting panic, forcing air into my lungs. Ethan watched as if I were furniture he had finally decided to throw away.

“You should’ve signed the transfer papers,” Vanessa said. “This could’ve been painless.”

My hand slid under my body, searching blindly for my phone. Ethan laughed.

“Calling your little yoga friends? Your mother? The police?” He leaned closer. “By the time anyone believes you, I’ll say you fell. Pregnancy makes women clumsy.”

He had rehearsed that line.

That was what chilled me most.

My fingers touched glass. I dragged the phone beneath my chest and unlocked it with my thumb. The screen blurred. I didn’t call the police.

Not first.

I called the number I had promised never to use unless my life depended on it.

It rang once.

A calm male voice answered. “Blackwood Response.”

I swallowed blood. “This is Mara Blackwood. Code red. Domestic assault. Pregnancy. Evidence file locked under Sapphire.”

Silence.

Then the voice changed. “Location confirmed. Medical and legal teams en route. Stay on the line, Mrs. Blackwood.”

Ethan stopped smiling.

Vanessa’s fingers slipped from his sleeve.

“Who did you call?” he demanded.

I lifted my head just enough to look at him.

“You always said I was nobody without you,” I whispered.

His face drained of color.

“No,” he breathed. “Not them.”

For the first time that night, Ethan looked afraid.

And despite the pain splitting through me, I smiled.

Because my husband had just kicked the wrong woman.

PART 2

The ambulance arrived in six minutes. The lawyers arrived in eight.

Ethan tried to perform.

He rushed toward the paramedics, all trembling husband and wounded innocence. “She slipped. She’s emotional. Please, my wife has been unstable lately.”

Vanessa cried on command.

“She attacked him,” she sobbed. “He only moved his leg to protect himself.”