Chapter 6

Annie's POV

The apartment felt different when I returned from the hospital. Howard's business card was still in my pocket, his job offer and Lucy's silent plea lingering in my thoughts. But all ideas of fresh starts vanished the moment I stepped inside.

Laughter drifted from the dining room—the kind that's practiced until perfect. I found them gathered around the table: Philip at the head, Sarah in my usual seat, and the boys on either side of her. She was opening gifts, her makeup artfully done to project warmth and vulnerability. She was a beauty for sure, but with flaws that men like Philip seemed blind to. Her smile was a masterpiece of calculation, and I wondered how many hours she'd spent perfecting it.

"I'm so glad to join this family," Sarah was saying, her voice trembling with practiced emotion.

Philip noticed me first. "Annie. Join us? We're celebrating."

"Celebrating?" The word tasted bitter. "My miscarriage, perhaps?"

Sarah's hand flew to her throat. "Oh, Annie, I had no idea... I'm so sorry for your loss."

"This is our celebration," Brian declared, glaring at me, "You're not invited." I took a step toward my son, but he jumped up, positioning himself between me and Sarah. "You can't come near my new mom!" "Brian," Philip's voice carried that familiar note of authority. "Could you make do with the guest room?"

"The guest room?" I gasped.

"Mom's staying in your old room now," Brian announced triumphantly. "You can't go in there anymore."

I moved toward the master bedroom, but Brian darted ahead, blocking the doorway. "This is Sarah's room now! You don't belong here anymore!"

"Please, Annie. Don't make it difficult for us all," Philip said firmly, his tone making it clear it wasn't really a plea.

Sarah rose gracefully. "I could stay in the guest room instead," she offered, voice dripping with false modesty. "I wouldn't want to impose..."

"No!" Brian clutched her hand. "You're staying here with us!"

I looked between them—my husband, my son, and the woman who had so expertly orchestrated their devotion.

"Brian, I promised to divorce your dad and that's all you'll receive from me. But this one isn't the promise I made." My voice was steadier than I felt.

I shoved Brian aside, forged into my room, and locked the door. I could use some sleep.

Morning sunlight streamed through the guest room window as I methodically packed my belongings. Each item I placed in my suitcase felt like shedding another layer of the life I'd built here.

My hand brushed against something in the dresser drawer—a phone I didn't recognize. Sarah's, I realized, my heart quickening. She must have left it when she'd moved her things. The screen lit up at my touch, unlocked. She must've been careless.

A notification banner caught my eye: "Lab Results Available—Mount Sinai OB/GYN."

My hands trembled as I opened the message. The words swam before my eyes: "Pregnancy confirmed—9 weeks." The date stamp was from three weeks ago.

Nine weeks. The timeline spun in my head as I opened her WhatsApp. A conversation with "Rob" filled the screen.

Robert: "What do you mean you're pregnant?" Sarah: "Don't worry. Everything's going according to plan." Robert: "Our weekend in Paris..." Sarah: "Exactly. Philip hasn't touched me. This baby is yours."

I felt sick. Sarah wasn't just trying to take my place—she was playing both men. I stuffed Sarah's phone into my pocket. Should I show this to Philip? Despite everything, some part of me hesitated. But then I remembered his betrayals.

Before I could decide, the front door slammed. Philip burst into the room, his composure completely shattered.

"Brian's gone," he said. "Robert took him."

The world tilted sideways. "What?"

"Robert, Sarah's ex-husband, kidnapped Brian. He's demanding... Sarah. Says she belongs to him."

"Then go find Sarah," I said, my voice steady despite the fear.

"He's demanding a trade," Philip's voice was frantic. "Sarah for Brian. But Sarah's disappeared. We need... I need you to come with me."

Understanding dawned with horrifying clarity. "No." I turned to leave. "Call the police."

Philip blocked my path, his face contorted with a desperate, dark intensity. "Annie, Brian is your son! You can't just let him die!"

He grabbed my shoulders, his grip bruisingly tight as he shook me. I was already physically exhausted and emotionally drained from the loss of the baby. As I struggled to break free, the overwhelming stress and my weakened state caused the room to spin. Philip didn't let go; instead, he used his strength to force me toward the door, ignoring my cries.

"I have no choice!" Philip shouted, his voice echoing with a terrifying lack of empathy. "If I don't bring someone to him, he'll kill Brian!"

My knees buckled. The world turned grey as my body finally gave in to the trauma and exhaustion. I felt him catch me, but it wasn't out of care—it was the act of a man preparing a sacrifice. The irony struck me as darkness crept in: my "perfect" family had ended with me being traded away to save a son who hated me.