Chapter 4

Michael stood at the doorway, gun pointed at Joshua.

I grabbed the iron rod and swung it at Joshua with all my strength.

Almost at the same time, the gun went off.

The bullet tore through my palm and lodged into Joshua's chest.

The pain made everything go black. The iron rod clattered to the floor.

Michael strode in and fired another shot into Joshua.

Then he turned around and slapped me twice across the face.

My face whipped to the side, blood seeping from the corner of my mouth.

Michael grabbed my hair and yanked me up, his eyes filled with cold killing intent. "Olivia, do you know what happens when you betray me?"

I asked him through the pain, "Betray?"

Michael's eyes were dark and murderous. "Running off with another man—what else would you call it?"

I understood now. Emily must have twisted the story, turning my kidnapping into me running away with someone.

"Haven't I been good enough to you?" His fingers tightened, pulling at my scalp. "I give you whatever you want, and you leave with another man?"

Suddenly, I broke into hysterical laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face.

Had he been good to me?

He set me up, made me lose everything, used me as a breeding tool—and he called that good enough?

I raised my uninjured hand, grabbed the gun at his waist, and pressed it against my belly. "Go ahead. Shoot."

Michael's pupils contracted sharply.

He stared at me, his face darkening. "You... you know?"

He released my hair, his tone softening, even carrying a hint of guilt. "Olivia, I know this isn't fair to you."

"But listen to me. Once this child is born and Emily's position in the Phillips family is secure..." He tried to take my hand. "I'll have our own children with you. I promise."

I shook off his hand.

"Want this baby so badly?" I stared into his eyes, speaking each word deliberately. "Then you'd better watch me yourself."

"Because the moment you look away, I will get rid of this child."

Michael's face instantly darkened.

He raised his hand. I thought he was going to hit me.

But his hand stopped mid-air, and he ended up just slamming it hard against the wall.

"Take her back!" he said through gritted teeth. "Watch her twenty-four hours a day. Don't let her near anything dangerous!"

Back at the villa, I was confined to the bedroom.

I refused to eat or drink.

Whenever the guards weren't paying attention, I'd try every way possible to hurt myself.

Scratching the wall with my nails until my fingers bled, banging my head against the bedpost, even trying to swallow broken glass.

Michael, left with no choice, put shackles on my wrists and ankles and kept me chained to him.

Wherever he went, I had to follow.

Once, while changing my clothes, he touched the scar on my lower back and froze.

"What's this?" His voice was quiet.

I laughed coldly. "Took you two years of sleeping together to notice the scar on my back?"

He said nothing, just covered the scar with his palm, his expression too complicated to read.

For a moment, I thought I saw pain flash in his eyes.

But quickly, he pulled his hand away and returned to his cold demeanor.

On the day I was four months pregnant, Michael got an emergency call.

His gang had clashed with rivals at the docks. The casualties were severe.

"I'm on my way." He hung up, grabbed his coat, and headed out.

I was chained to the bed, watching helplessly as he left.

The door was locked from the outside.

He didn't come back for three whole days. And for those three days, no one remembered I existed.

I had nothing to eat or drink. My throat felt like it was splitting, my stomach cramping from hunger.

I lay on the bed, feeling life draining away bit by bit.

Just when I thought I was going to die, I felt the chain on my wrist.

I stared at it, a crazy idea forming in my mind.

I wrapped the chain around my belly, loop after loop, then pulled it tight with all my remaining strength.

Sharp pain hit me. Blood started flowing below.

I bit down hard and kept pulling tighter.

The baby was struggling. I could feel it.

But I couldn't stop.

This child shouldn't come into this world.

It was a lie, a conspiracy, proof that I'd been used.

I wouldn't let it be born.

The chain got tighter and tighter. More and more blood flowed.

My consciousness began to fade. Everything turned blood red.

The door seemed to burst open.

I heard someone screaming my name, voice torn with anguish.

"Olivia!"