After My Husband Locked Me Out in a Blizzard

The Hamptons estate loomed before us, its grand silhouette barely visible through the thickening snow. Kieran had insisted I accompany him for a weekend business retreat, though he'd barely spoken during our three-hour drive.

"We're here," he announced flatly, pulling into the circular driveway. "Get your things."

I stepped out of the car, the bitter wind immediately slicing through my thin coat. I'd packed for a weekend in early autumn, not anticipating a blizzard would hit so suddenly.

"Kieran," I called, hurrying toward the trunk to retrieve our bags. "Should we wait out the storm before—"

"Don't question me," he snapped, already heading toward the main house. "We have meetings scheduled."

I followed him inside, my teeth chattering. The housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, greeted us warmly, but Kieran brushed past her without acknowledgment.

In the grand foyer, I finally gathered my courage. "Are you going to tell me about Daphne?"

He froze, his back to me. "What about her?"

"I saw her text messages. About the charity auction. About you planning to... get rid of me."

He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You're snooping through my phone now?"

"No, she showed me—"

"Of course she did." His laugh was cruel. "And you believed her?"

"I believe what I see," I whispered. "You're with her all the time."

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "You dare question me? After everything I've given you?"

Before I could respond, he grabbed his phone and typed something. The house security system beeped, and I realized with horror what he'd done.

"Kieran, don't—"

"Perhaps some time outside will cool your jealousy," he said coldly, striding toward the door. "Since you're so eager to question my decisions."

He stepped outside, leaving me alone in the foyer. I rushed to the door, but it wouldn't budge—he'd locked me out.

"Kieran!" I pounded on the heavy oak door. "Let me in!"

Through the window, I saw him walk calmly to the garage, snow already collecting on his shoulders. The wind howled around me, and within minutes, my thin clothes were soaked through.

I ran to the side entrance, then to the back, but every door was sealed. The blizzard intensified, visibility dropping to mere feet. My fingers went numb as I continued pounding, my voice growing hoarse from screaming his name.

Inside, I could see lights on, hear faint music playing. Kieran was inside, warm and safe, deliberately ignoring me.

Hours passed. My clothes froze to my skin, my lips turned blue, and still I pounded weakly against the door. Just when I thought I couldn't endure another minute, a different figure appeared—Mrs. Higgins, her face tight with concern.

"Mrs. Anderson!" she gasped, opening the servant's entrance. "Come quickly!"

I stumbled inside, unable to speak, my body shaking violently.

"Mr. Anderson said you were taking a walk," she said, wrapping a blanket around me. "But when the storm got worse..."

She didn't finish, but her disapproving look spoke volumes.

---

Two weeks later, I lay curled in my bed, a fever burning through me that had only grown worse since the blizzard. My body ached, and sharp pains radiated from my abdomen, but I'd told no one—not even Mrs. Higgins.

A knock startled me. Kieran stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, eyes bloodshot.

"You're still sick," he said flatly.

"It's just a cold," I lied, pulling the covers higher.

He closed the door behind him, his movements unsteady. The scent of expensive whiskey emanated from him.

"A business deal fell through today," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "Everything is falling apart."

I said nothing, sensing the danger in his mood.

"Did you hear me?" he demanded, looming over the bed. "Everything is falling apart!"

"Kieran, I don't feel well—"

"You don't feel well?" He laughed bitterly. "What a convenient excuse."

He reached for me, his hands rough as they pushed aside the covers. "You know what your duty is."

"Please," I whispered, trying to push him away. "I'm burning up. I have pain here—" I gestured to my abdomen.

"Always making excuses," he growled, his face inches from mine. "Always avoiding me."

His weight pressed down on me, and I felt tears spill from my eyes as I realized what was happening.

"Stop," I pleaded weakly. "Kieran, please stop."

But my words only seemed to fuel his anger. He ignored my tears, my struggles, my pain—all to assert the control he believed he deserved.

---

The bathroom floor was cold against my cheek. I don't remember how I got there—only that I'd stumbled away from him, blood soaking through my nightgown.

I pressed my palm against the tile wall, trying to stand, but my legs buckled. More blood pooled beneath me, and a strange, hollow feeling spread through my abdomen.

"Pregnant," I whispered in shock, the realization dawning too late. "I was pregnant."

The room spun around me as I fumbled for my phone with trembling fingers. Blood smeared across the screen as I dialed 911.

"Help," I gasped. "Bleeding... please hurry..."

I heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, then Kieran's voice, suddenly sober.

"Lylah? What's happening?"

He pushed open the door, and I saw his face transform from irritation to horror as he took in the scene—me on the floor, blood everywhere.

His eyes met mine, wide with shock and something that looked almost like fear.

"What have I done?" he whispered, but I couldn't answer as darkness closed in around me.