After the Forsaken Wife Escapes, Dunn Faces His Downfall

One week after Taylor's miscarriage, I stood in our bedroom, my fingers tracing the bruises on my arm—purple reminders of Damien's rage. The house had grown colder since that night at the hospital, his eyes avoiding mine as if I were something diseased.

"Evangeline." His voice cut through the silence as he appeared in the doorway. "You're coming with me tonight."

I turned slowly, keeping my expression neutral despite the fear curling in my stomach. "Where?"

"The Obsidian Club." He straightened his tie, not meeting my eyes. "An elite gathering."

"I don't think—"

"You don't think?" His laugh was sharp as broken glass. "That's right. You don't think. You just act. And now you owe me a debt."

He crossed the room in three strides, grabbing my arm with bruising force. His fingers dug into the same spot he'd bruised before, making me wince.

"Damien, please—"

"You killed my child," he hissed, his breath hot against my face. "You owe me. Tonight, you'll pay."

---

The Obsidian Club loomed like a shadow against the night sky, its black stone façade swallowing the light from surrounding streets. Inside, men in expensive suits clustered in small groups, their voices low and intimate.

Damien guided me through the crowd, his hand pressed firmly against my lower back. The dress he'd selected clung to every curve, the neckline plunging far lower than anything I'd ever worn.

"Smile," he commanded through clenched teeth. "You're about to meet some very important people."

The main hall fell silent as we entered. A raised platform dominated the center, illuminated by a single spotlight. My stomach twisted when I realized what was happening.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Damien announced, his voice carrying across the hushed room. "Tonight's special offering—my blessed fortune wife."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. I stood frozen as Damien continued.

"For one night only, the opportunity to possess the woman whose supernatural gift has built empires."

Bids started immediately, voices rising in fevered competition. I recognized faces in the crowd—men who had dined at our table, who had shaken my hand at galas.

"Fifty thousand!"

"A hundred thousand!"

"Two hundred thousand for the fortune bearer!"

Tears streamed down my face as I stood on display, each bid another nail in my dignity's coffin. Through blurred vision, I saw Taylor at the edge of the crowd, her lips curved in triumph.

"Five hundred thousand!" shouted a man with cold eyes and a predatory smile.

The room spun around me as Damien nodded approvingly. "Sold."

---

"Evangeline!"

I jerked awake to Helena's gentle touch on my shoulder. Sunlight streamed through the curtains—morning had come.

"You're safe now," she whispered, pressing a cup of tea into my trembling hands. "Elder Dunn stopped the auction. Damien is locked in his study."

The memory of last night crashed over me—the men's voices, their hands reaching toward me like I was nothing more than meat to be purchased.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice raw.

Helena squeezed my hand. "Check your abdomen, dear."

I looked down, confused, then felt it—a warmth spreading from my core outward. My hand flew to my stomach as realization dawned.

"I'm pregnant," I breathed, wonder replacing horror.

Helena nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "A blessed child. Perhaps now Damien will—"

"Will what?" I asked, hope fluttering weakly in my chest.

"Love you," she said simply.

---

That evening, I found Damien in his study, Taylor perched on the arm of his chair like a vulture.

"Damien," I said softly, kneeling before him despite every instinct screaming to run. "I have news."

His eyes flickered to me, cold and distant. "Speak."

I took his hand in mine, placing it gently against my still-flat stomach. "I'm carrying your child."

For one breathless moment, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps even wonder. Then Taylor leaned forward, her hand possessively gripping his shoulder.

"How convenient," Damien said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Now I can give Taylor what she lost."

"What?"

"Dr. Marcus Chen has developed an experimental procedure," he explained calmly, as if discussing business. "He can transplant our blessed child from your womb to Taylor's."

The room tilted sideways as his words registered. "No," I whispered. "You can't—"

"I can," he replied, rising from his chair. "And I will."

I clutched at his legs as he walked away. "Please! It's our baby!"

"Security," he called coldly. "Remove her."

---

The operating room was sterile white, the instruments gleaming under harsh lights. I lay strapped to a table, consciousness wavering through whatever drugs they'd given me.

Across from me, Taylor reclined on her own table, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"This will hurt," Dr. Chen warned, adjusting his surgical tools. "But the blessed child must be transferred while still connected to its original source."

I felt it then—the supernatural bond between mother and child being severed by mechanical force. Pain beyond imagining tore through me as invisible threads connecting us were cut one by one.

"Don't," I begged through tears. "Please don't take my baby."

Taylor's hand moved to her own abdomen as the procedure reached its climax. "Mine now," she whispered triumphantly.

Damien watched from the shadows, his face impassive as my anguished sobs filled the room.