Chapter 3Fetal Static

A nurse saw me clutching the wall. "Mrs. Thorne? Are you alright? You're pale as a ghost."

She saw the tears streaming down my face. "Oh, no... don't cry! It's bad for the baby! If Mr. Thorne saw you this upset..."

I couldn't hold it in. A sob tore out of me, and I collapsed.

...

When I woke up, I was at home. Julian was gone, but Serena was standing at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed.

"That was a cute stunt. Fainting just to make him worry," she sneered. "You’re pathetic."

"You saw us, didn't you? He loves me. He’s just using your body."

I gripped the sheets. "How long?"

"Two years," she said, examining her nails. "We met at the Met Gala. He told me he was in a loveless marriage. He said you were... fine, but boring. He’d never even sleep with me without protection. He wanted me to have his baby, but my brand is 'America's Sweetheart.' A scandal would ruin me. This... was his solution."

She leaned in. "You know all those 'gifts' he gave you after your failed IVF rounds? Consolation prizes. All those 'late nights at the office'? He was with me. In this house. In this bed."

She smiled, a victor's smile, and walked out.

She passed Julian in the hall.

He came in, his face a mask of concern. "Chloe? You're awake. I was so worried."

I was already on the phone with a disposal service. "I want this bed... this mattress... I want it all gone. Burn it."

"Chloe, what's wrong?" He tried to hug me. "You’re not well. You fainted. You need to be more careful. For the baby."

I shoved him off.

He sighed, thinking I was just hormonal. He called to someone in the hall. A middle-aged woman walked in.

"Chloe, you're obviously not taking care of yourself. I've hired the best maternity nurse in the state. This is Mrs. Vance. She'll be staying with us."

I looked at her. She seemed vaguely familiar.

Julian walked her out. I could hear his low voice. "Mrs. Vance, Chloe's... she's a little fragile. Your only priority is the fetus. Do whatever it takes. Be firm."

"I understand completely, Mr. Thorne."

I knew why she looked familiar.

The next morning at 4:00 AM, my door flew open.

"Get up. The air is purest at this hour. We're going for a walk."

I was barely asleep. "What? No. I'm exhausted."

Mrs. Vance ripped the blankets off me. "This isn't a request. Your lazy lifestyle is bad for the baby. Get up, or I'll make you."

"You can't be serious."

"Try me." She picked up the ice water pitcher from my nightstand and dumped it on my head.

I gasped, sputtering from the cold. Before I could move, her hand cracked across my face.

SLAP.

The sound was deafening in the silence.

"You are a vessel," she spat, her face inches from mine. "Mr. Thorne was very clear. The package is the priority. Not you."

I was too stunned to move.

The voice in my head was cackling.

Yeah, Grandma! You tell her! Teach that bitch a lesson! She better not disobey my family!

Grandma.

Of course.

Mrs. Vance. Serena Vane's mother.

The humiliation was so profound, I just sat there, dripping and shivering.