Page 22

Bia

Cillian has me a prisoner in my own penthouse for two months. The nurses he has hired, Ainsley and Kiandre, they both are really sweet. They have their work cut out for them taking care of me.

The only reason I eat without fighting them or refusing is because of the baby.

“Come on, love, why don’t we go out in the living room and watch Dirty Dancing?”

“No thank you,”

I say quietly to Ainsley. They found my movie collection I brought with me from home. Dirty Dancing happens to be one of my favorites, but the idea of getting out of bed makes me exhausted.

“Love, please. I told you, if you don’t get out of bed, we will have to call Mr. O’Sullivan.”

I shrug my shoulders; it doesn’t matter he doesn’t care and has said as much.

Kiandre tried to get me motivated to get out of bed one day by calling Cillian and putting it on speaker phone. She had no idea that her idea would only push me deeper into a depression.

Kiandre: Mr. O’Sullivan, do you have a moment?

Cillian: He sighs, What is it?

Kiandre: We are worried about Mrs. O’Sullivan. She has become very depressed and won’t get out of bed.

Cillian: I told you both when I hired you that I don’t care what happens to Bia until she goes into labor.

Kiandre: She’s your wife.

Cillian: The same wife that cheated on me. Unless it has to do with the baby, don’t bother me with Bia and her moods. She has no one to blame but herself.

Then he ended the call, and Kiandre apologized to me. She told me she believed me, she was the one who saw me the same day Cillian caught me.

“In the condition I found you, it was clear you were attacked.”

It is nice that they believe me, but it doesn’t matter when you're going against a man like Cillian O’Sullivan.

Ainsley sighs as she exists my room, and she cooks me dinner before she leaves for the night. When I get hungry after she leaves, I go heat up my food and I eat. I wash my plates before making my way back to my room, but when the door opens, I look and see Tristan running toward me.

“You fucking bitch!”

he says as he punches me in my nose. I stumble a few steps backward before catching myself against the wall.

“You cost me my fucking job; your beloved husband is ruining me.”

He yanks my hair and slams my face into the wall. I try to push his hand off my hair, but he is slamming my face into the wall. I feel the blood drip down into my eyes, making my vision blurry. I try to blink the blood from them but that only makes it worse.

“Stop. Please don’t hurt me, my baby.”

“You don’t need to worry about your baby. I will make sure I kill that evil spawn. If I can’t have my baby, then why should you be able to?”

“W-what?”

“Stop asking fucking questions,”

he says as he tosses me to the ground. I fall to my hands and knees; I try to crawl away from him. If I can get back to the kitchen, I can grab a knife.

I’m flung to my side when he kicks me in my ribs. He uses his foot and rolls me to my back before he straddles my waist. The first punch to my stomach hurts worse in my heart than my stomach. I try to grab his hands to stop him, but he grabs both of my hands, putting them above my head, and before I realize what he is doing I feel an agonizing pain in both of my hands.

I yank on them, but the pain only gets worse. “Go ahead and struggle, you will only make the knife cut your hands up worse.”

He laughs then goes back to punching my stomach over and over. When I feel the wetness between my legs, I don’t have to look down to know he has killed my baby.

After a few more hits to my stomach, I see black spots dancing in my vision. I know it won’t be long, and I whisper to my dead baby.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet angel.”