Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Its little heart beat like a rabbit caught between canine teeth. Cornered and forced into existence.
It wasn’t the baby’s fault that its father raped me. It didn’t ask to be conceived. It was blameless, just like me.
“It appears that your wife is thirteen weeks along, not six.”
He shrugged.
“Mr. Callaghan?” The doctor arched a brow, demanding his words. She looked rather disgusted with the entire ordeal.
“What can I say? My sperm is an overachiever.”
Something dark passed between the two of them. It made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She was the first to break their stare-off, clearing her throat.
“Good news is you’ll have a Christmas baby. I’m setting the due date for December twenty-fifth.”
“February thirteenth,” Tiernan corrected.
She licked her lips, eyes darting around the room, searching for help that wouldn’t come. “Mr. Callaghan, I cannot—”
“If the baby arrives prematurely—say, late December—we’ll call it a happy surprise.” He used the tip of his shiny wingtip to roll her chair from the monitor and let go of my hand. Leaning over, he seized control of the keyboard and fixed the due date on her computer. His demeanor changed completely.
This was why he set up the OB-GYN appointment. To fix the timeline of our tragedy. Now it all made sense.
“W-would you like to take a prenatal blood test to find out the gender?” Though I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was stammering by the way her lips quivered.
“Unnecessary.” Tiernan glanced at his watch before I was able to nod.
“Perhaps your wife doesn’t feel the same way.”
“In that case, she’s welcome to voice her preference.”
“Can she?” The doctor cast her terrorized gaze upon me.
“Oh, she can.” He sat back. Gone was the man who cooed and fussed me into loosening my muscles. Who held my hand and brushed my knuckles so gently I could cry. “She chooses not to. Right, Lila?”
How dare he dictate whether I found out the gender or not? He was strong-arming me into communicating with him by taking away my agency. Already, freedom was a precious extravagance I could only dream of.
The doctor rolled her chair back to her computer, typing on her keyboard. “Do you know where you’d like to give birth?”
“Home,” Tiernan announced, again disregarding my preferences. “She’ll have a home birth.”
Her fingers halted over the keyboard. “I’m not a fan of home births.”
“What a coincidence. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Deep breath now, Mrs. Callaghan.” The doctor flattened her palm over my abdomen and slowly slipped the device from between my legs. She tossed away the condom and latex gloves and stood up to wash her hands.
She spoke directly to Tiernan about appointments and schedules, then left the room.
Keeping my chin locked to keep it from wobbling, I slid off the table and waddled to the corner chair where my folded dress awaited. When I turned back around, Tiernan stood toe-to-toe with me. My blood was boiling with anger.
He plucked the dress from my hands and started helping me put it on, but I shoved him out of my way and tramped over to retrieve my shoes, ignoring the sticky coldness between my thighs.
I caught him speaking to me through the mirror, but didn’t bother reading his lips. I thought we’d reached some kind of ceasefire. Then he went and made decisions that weren’t his to make. The frustration of not being able to communicate this to him, to explain what angered me, made a rash break out across my neck. Great. I was becoming allergic to not talking to him.
I got dressed quickly and waited behind him at the reception desk while the flirty receptionist set us up with another appointment. When she gave him the clinic’s card with the date written down, she also slipped him her number. He pocketed it coolly, turned toward me, and strode outside.
Now, I wasn’t just fuming.
I was murderous.
I never should’ve stitched the bastard up. When the elevator slid open and we poured into the lobby, he pressed his hand to the small of my back. I slapped his touch away, even though his four soldiers were standing there, staring at us in disbelief.
Ignoring their bewildered expressions, he clasped my wrist and guided me to an alcove behind the elevator bank. My back pressed against a silvered building directory. He bared his teeth, getting in my face.
“Got something to say to me, wifey?”
I offered my middle finger and an angelic smile.
He tipped his head back and laughed humorlessly.
“How much of a pushover can you be, Lila? I make your decisions for you, I take away your will, your words, your bleeding freedom. I took that whore’s number.” He pointed upstairs. “I’ll keep pushing your buttons until you break, because I refuse to play dumb like the rest of your family. Your brother took out my eye but make no mistake—I can still see through your bullshit.”