Sam froze.
Her heart stopped, breath caught in her throat.
She let out a shaky exhale. Wasn't she being childish? Hadn't she told herself to accept her fate?
Where exactly was she planning to run to?
This was her husband now. That was the fact.
But the doorknob still looked temptingly escape-worthy.
I could still run away, right?
"You fainted earlier. You need to rest. Go lie back down," Dave said softly, but there was an unmistakable command in his voice.
"Who gave you the right to tell me what to do?" Sam snapped, rolling her eyes and shutting the door behind her.
Then she turned and froze.
He was a few feet away. But...
Sam's throat tightened. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. No... no, it couldn't be. She shook her head, eyes wide.
Her lips quivered. Her teeth chattered.
She stumbled back, hitting the door hard.
She pointed at him, voice shaking. "You... You... How could... You're... Oh my God..."
Dave, no, he laughed like the devil himself.
"Finally," he said, "You realize the hell you're in."
He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately. His eyes pierced her with an unreadable intensity. The sunlight from the window cast shadows across his face, but she knew who he was.
She knew that face.
The one that haunted her every night. The one she'd dreamed about and thought about every waking moment.
Each step he took made her panic grow. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor.
Her throat was dry. Her hands trembled. Her thoughts scattered. What was he doing here?
"Hello, Samantha. How are you, Wifey?"
She looked up, breath caught again. He stood right in front of her.
"Hello, Wifey," he repeated, a slow, eerie smile curling on his lips.
Her body refused to move. Her mind screamed.
Chris?!
What was he doing here?
But this Chris... this wasn't the man she remembered. His eyes no longer held warmth. Now, they burned with anger. Disdain.
She shook her head in denial.
"C-C-Chris?"
"Hello, Wifey," he said again, lowering his head until his eyes locked with hers.
"I told you... You could never get away from me, Samantha darling. So why did you try to leave me?"
A scream tore from her lips before she even realized it was hers.
She scrambled to her feet, adrenaline taking over. With all her strength, she shoved him away.
He stumbled, falling against the foot of the bed, surprise flashing across his face.
Sam didn't wait.
She yanked the door open and ran.
[|]
Samantha ran fast.
Her eyes were locked on the front door. She zoomed past the living room like THE FLASH, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She glanced behind her, heart pounding.
Nothing.
He wasn't behind her.
Why wasn't he chasing her?
She shook her head, waving the thought away. Why should she care what he was doing?
She ran faster.
Her breath hitched as she reached the front door. Her fingers curled around the knob, and she turned it quickly.
Click. Nothing.
Another wave of dread slammed into her chest.
She swallowed hard and twisted again, her breath ragged.
Still nothing.
Her lungs constricted. Her palms were slick with sweat. She wiped them frantically on her gown and tried again.
Still locked.
Her panic surged. Her heart thudded violently in her chest as she kept twisting the knob. Her dread spiked with every second. She kept glancing back, half-expecting him to appear right behind her, to grab her, to stop her.
Tears blurred her vision. She gripped the handle tighter and shook it with everything she had, sobbing in fear.
Still. Nothing.
God, I'm begging you. Please get me out of this. I swear, if you let me out.
I promise... I promise I'll-
Wait... What will I even promise not to do?
Why won't this door open?
A man she met in Vegas had locked her inside a room.
Had she just gotten herself kidnapped?
Was Chris keeping her hostage?
Her hand slipped off the knob. She staggered back in defeat, despair rising like a tidal wave—
-and then the door creaked open.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Huh?
The door... had never been locked?
So, he didn't lock it?
Was it her own fear that had stopped her from opening it all along?
Then... what the hell does that mean?
SAM, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT WHEN YOU SHOULD BE RUNNING?!
She yanked the door open, then froze.
TROUBLE WAS STANDING RIGHT OUTSIDE.
Her breath caught in her throat.
What explanation could she possibly give that would make any sense?
Her gaze moved from one face to another. James Rice. Her father. Her best friends.
And someone else, an older man she didn't recognize, standing slightly behind the others, eyes cold and observant.
Samantha stepped out of the hotel suite, shutting the door behind her with trembling fingers.
"I... this is not what you think..." she began, her voice cracking under pressure. Even to her own ears, the words sounded empty.
The older man stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he studied her. His gaze pierced right through her skin.
"Who are-"
"I'm Doctor Salman Roy," he cut in calmly. "This is a normal reaction. Sometimes, pregnant women experience moments of delirium."
What?
Samantha's eyes snapped toward him.
"Who is pregnant?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"You are, ma'am," the doctor said evenly. "I treated you earlier when you fainted."
The world tilted.
"I'm not... I mean, I can't be-" Sam stopped.
Her mind raced back to Vegas.
"You're pregnant?" James Rice shoved the doctor aside, storming forward with fury blazing in his eyes. "So you're carrying someone else's child, and you're still married, my son?"
His tone was ice-cold, but his expression was pure fire. His eyes, once cool and composed, were now burning with a murderous rage.
"Answer me!"
"James, please, just calm down," Frederick pleaded beside him, his hands shaking. "Let her talk, please..."
"I-I..." Sam's mouth opened, but the words tangled in her throat. Pregnant? But they always used protection!
"Samantha?" Frederick's voice cracked. "Are you really...?"
She couldn't meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her heart shattered as the words left her lips.
"I don't know."
The room fell into a deeper silence.
But those three words carried the weight of a wrecking ball.
"I don't know."
Not just about the pregnancy.
But about everything.
"You're apologizing?" James scoffed. His laugh was bitter. His glare was deadly. "I'll destroy you all. Every last one of you."
His fury was palpable. Samantha could feel it in her bones. People like him, men of legacy and power, never forgave disgrace. And she had just committed the ultimate offense: humiliation.
She looked down at her stomach as tears spilled from her eyes.
"Are you crying?" James roared. "Do you think tears will fix this?!"
He pointed at her stomach with venom. "Or fix that?"
A storm of regret engulfed her.
If only her father hadn't picked a fight.
If only she hadn't tried to prove a point.
If only she hadn't met Chris that night...
The ifs and maybes stabbed at her chest.
She had tried to protect everyone, but now, she was the one destroying everything.
"I'm sorry..." Her whole body trembled from her sobs.
"I will destroy you," James growled at Frederick. He turned sharply to Sam. "And you... I treated you like a daughter. And this is what you do?"
A hand suddenly slid around her waist. She gasped as her body was pulled against something warm, firm, and terrifyingly familiar.
Her pulse stopped.
She didn't need to look. She knew exactly who it was.
And now, whatever James had planned for her, it was going to be a hundred times worse.
The baby's father had just stepped out of her bedroom and was now holding her protectively in front of everyone.
Samantha let out a dry, broken laugh.
She was dead. It was over.
She tried to pull away, but his grip wouldn't budge.
"Please..." she whispered. "Let me go. Don't make this worse. I'm begging you."
But Chris only tightened his arm around her.
And then, with a slow turn of his head, his eyes locked onto the room full of people.
"You made her cry," he said coldly. Then his eyes darkened further. "How dare you!"