His Mistress Framed Me for Killing Her Baby

I saw Sloane before she saw me.

I was leaving Nicolas's office, walking slow because my legs felt like water. The corridor was empty. White walls. Fluorescent lights that buzzed. My hand stayed pressed against my stomach. The baby had been kicking all morning. Little flutters that felt like hope, even though I knew better.

Sloane stepped out from around the corner. She wore a cream-colored coat and heels that clicked on the tile. Her hair was perfect. Her lipstick was perfect. She looked like she'd never been sick a day in her life.

She stopped when she saw me. Her eyes went to my stomach. I wasn't showing much, but enough. Enough that she knew.

"Cleo." Her voice was soft. Sweet. Like we were old friends. "I thought that was you."

I didn't say anything. I tried to step around her. She moved with me, blocking the hall.

"We should talk," she said.

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"I think you do." She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "You're still trying, aren't you? Still thinking you can convince him. That's sad, Cleo. Really."

I felt the anger rise in my chest. Hot and sharp. "Get out of my way."

"You need to let this go." Her voice dropped lower. "Whatever fantasy you're living in, it's over. Judah is mine. He's always been mine. You were just... convenient."

"I'm going to tell him the truth," I said. "About the baby. About everything. He can believe me or not. But I'm done hiding."

Her face changed. The sweetness disappeared. Her eyes went cold. "You really think he'll choose you? A dying woman with nothing? Over me?"

"I don't care if he chooses me." My voice shook. "I just want him to know his child exists."

Sloane stared at me. Then she laughed. It was a brittle sound. "You're pathetic."

She turned and walked toward the stairwell. I watched her go. My heart was pounding. I needed to sit down. I needed water. I needed—

Sloane stopped at the top of the stairs. She looked back at me. Her hand rested on the railing. The security camera was mounted in the corner above us. The little red light blinked.

"You know what, Cleo?" Her voice was loud now. Shrill. "I'm tired of you. I'm tired of your lies. I'm tired of you trying to ruin my life."

"What are you—"

She screamed my name. Then she threw herself backward.

I saw her body twist. Saw her arms go out. Saw her tumble down the concrete steps like a doll someone threw away. The sound was terrible. Wet. Heavy. Her scream cut off halfway down.

Then silence.

I stood frozen. My brain couldn't process what I'd just seen. My hand was still on my stomach. My mouth was open.

Footsteps pounded down the hall. A nurse ran past me. Then another. Someone yelled for a doctor. I heard Nicolas's voice, sharp and commanding.

I walked to the top of the stairs. Looked down.

Sloane was at the bottom, crumpled against the wall. Blood pooled under her head. Her cream coat was torn. One of her heels had come off. Her eyes were open. She was staring right at me.

"She pushed me," Sloane whispered. Her voice was weak. Broken. "Cleo pushed me."

Nicolas was kneeling beside her. His hands moved fast, checking her pulse, her head. He looked up at me. His face was white.

"I didn't," I said. "I didn't touch her."

More people came. Security guards. Another doctor. Someone wrapped a blanket around Sloane. Someone else was talking into a radio. I heard the words "possible assault" and "police."

I backed away from the stairs. My legs were shaking. I couldn't breathe.

Nicolas stood. He walked up the steps toward me. His hands were covered in Sloane's blood. "Cleo, don't say anything. Not until—"

"I didn't push her," I said again. "She threw herself. You have to believe me."

"I know." His voice was low. Urgent. "But right now, you need to—"

"Where is she?"

The voice came from behind me. I turned.

Judah stood at the end of the corridor. His suit was wrinkled. His tie was loose. His face looked like carved stone.

He walked past me like I didn't exist. Went straight to the stairs. Looked down at Sloane being loaded onto a gurney.

"What happened?" His voice was flat. Dead.

One of the security guards stepped forward. "Sir, there was an altercation. Ms. Turner fell. She's claiming she was pushed."

Judah's eyes moved to me. They were empty. Hollow. Like looking into a grave.

"By her," the guard said.

Judah stared at me. I tried to speak. Tried to explain. But nothing came out.

He turned away.

"Take her downstairs," he said. "I want her held until the police arrive."

Two guards moved toward me. Nicolas stepped between us. "Judah, wait. You need to look at the—"

"I don't need to look at anything." Judah's voice was ice. "She tried to kill Sloane. She tried to kill my child."

"It's not your—" I started.

His hand came up. Not to hit me. Just to stop me from speaking. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Not ever again."

The guards took my arms. I didn't fight. There was no point.

As they pulled me away, I saw Judah kneel beside Sloane's gurney. Saw him take her hand. Saw her whisper something to him. Saw his face crumple.

I closed my eyes.

The baby kicked once. Then went still.