Chapter 3Whose Child Is She Carrying?

"Why wouldn't he want you there? I'm the one paying the lease on that property anyway."

Kate turned her head, her voice melting into absolute honey as she spoke to the man outside.

She didn't even bother to give me a second glance as she turned to leave.

I scrambled up from the floor and blocked the doorway.

"Give me the keys." I stared into her eyes, emphasizing every single syllable.

Kate scowled, her patience completely evaporated.

"Are you psychotic, Nolan? It's just a dusty old room. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum over this?"

Joshua stood on the porch, looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes.

"Nolan, I know you hate me, but I really am sick."

"I just wanted a quiet place to breathe and rest."

"Drop the act," I snapped, pointing a finger at him.

"You know exactly what you're doing, you parasite."

Joshua's face went chalk white. He swayed dramatically, stumbling backward two steps as if he had been physically struck.

Kate exploded. She shoved me with both hands, her strength fueled by sheer fury.

"That is enough!"

Her push caught me completely off guard.

I lost my footing, stumbling backward. The base of my spine slammed violently into the sharp, solid edge of the heavy oak shoe cabinet.

A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my lower back, shooting down my legs.

I gasped, instinctively clutching my spine as my legs gave out.

I slid down the wooden cabinet, collapsing onto the floor. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt, sticking to my skin.

Kate stood over me, looking down without a single ounce of pity in her eyes.

"Stop playing dead. If you want to fake an injury, at least try to make it look convincing."

She grabbed Joshua's arm, supporting his weight, and walked right out the door.

The heavy front door clicked shut once again.

I lay curled on the cold floor, the agony in my spine so intense I couldn't even draw a full breath.

My hands shaking violently, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed for an ambulance.

Hours later, in a sterile hospital room.

The emergency room doctor held up my X-ray scans, his face grim.

"Mr. Whitmore, you've sustained severe trauma to your lumbar vertebrae."

"You are going to need strict bed rest for the next several days. Absolutely no physical strain, or you risk permanent nerve damage."

I lay flat on the stiff hospital mattress.

My mind drifted to the artwork destroyed under her designer heel.

Then to the child, my child, growing inside her womb.

A hollow, rhythmic pain pulsed in my chest.

I lay in that hospital bed for an entire day. By nightfall, the acute, stabbing pain in my back had dulled to a heavy ache.

Suddenly, panic set in. I realized my finalized commercial commission, a massive canvas piece, was still sitting on an easel in the South End studio.

If Joshua ruined it, the breach of contract penalty would completely bankrupt me.

I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Ignoring the bleeding, I forced myself upright, gritting my teeth against the pain, and hailed a cab to the studio.

The front door of the loft was unlocked.

I pushed it open, and the sight before me nearly tore my soul apart.

Tubes of my imported, custom-mixed oil paints, worth tens of thousands of dollars, had been slashed open and stomped into the floorboards.

In the center of the room, Joshua was standing with a pair of heavy fabric shears, carving jagged gashes into my nearly finished masterpiece, The Cosmos.

"What the hell are you doing!" I roared, lunging forward and ripping the scissors out of his grip.

He shrieked, instantly dropping to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his chest and wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Ah! My chest! It hurts so much. Nolan, why did you shove me?"

The rapid clicking of heels echoed from the hallway. Kate burst into the room.

Seeing Joshua writhing on the paint-stained floor, her eyes turned bloodshot.

Without asking a single question, she spun around and delivered a brutal, ringing slap across my face.

The crack of her palm against my cheek echoed in the empty loft.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

"You absolute psycho! You know how weak his heart is, how could you be so vicious?"

I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, pointing a trembling finger at the shredded canvas on the easel.

"He destroyed my life's work! He is playing you for a total fool!"

"Why are you defending him? You didn't even ask what happened before you hit me!"

Kate didn't even glance at the ruined painting. She dropped to her knees, carefully gathering Joshua into her arms.

"Are a few sheets of trash paper more important than a human life?"

"I am warning you right now. If Joshua's condition worsens, I will make you pay with your life."

She practically carried him out of the room, rushing down the stairs.

I slumped against the wall of my ruined sanctuary, surrounded by the wreckage of my art.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

The caller ID showed Kate's name.

I pressed answer.

"Nolan, you terrified Joshua today. His heart rate is highly irregular."

"He's hooked up to an IV right now. You better drag yourself down here and apologize to him on your hands and knees."