It All Started With Love Getting Lost

Sandra held a twisted kind of power over me. She had tracked down the orphanage director, the woman who’d raised me and blackmailed her. It was Sandra’s way of ensuring I couldn’t tell James the truth—that I’d never laid a hand on her.

She was shrewd and she knew that, as long as I remained silent under the weight of these false accusations, James would only grow to resent me more.

And she was right.

Through the muffled chatter of the housemaids outside my locked storage room, I learned that James had introduced Sandra as his “girlfriend” at the dinner party, erasing any mention of me, his wife. As the servants gossiped, I overheard that he had even gone so far as to cut off my food and water—all in the name of Sandra’s “honor.”

Three days I had been locked in this cold, cramped space. My phone was gone, tossed out by James and my luggage had been confiscated. When he found my visa and flight ticket, scheduled for a week later, his fury intensified. He stormed in, opening the door with a glare that could freeze fire.

“You were planning to run, huh?” His voice was sharp with accusation. “After everything you’ve done, Nadine, you thought you could just disappear?”

Weak from hunger, I could barely register his words, the room spinning around me in blurred shadows. It took me a moment to respond, but he took my silence as defiance, his gaze growing colder.

He sneered, “Still playing the victim? Fine, you’re going to serve Sandra until she forgives you.”

I raised my head slowly, disbelief clouding my vision. The man before me, once my world, was now a stranger, as indifferent as a passing shadow. The baby kicked gently, as if sensing my pain and I felt tears prickling my eyes. Swallowing them back, I forced myself to say, barely a whisper, “I can’t… I’m too—”

But James didn’t give me a chance to finish. He dragged me out of the storage room and pushed me toward Sandra. She greeted him with a satisfied smile, pleased with the spectacle.

With a calculated sweetness, Sandra leaned closer, her polished nails glinting in the light. “Nadine, could you be a dear and help me change my shoes?” She lifted one foot, wiggling her toes near my face. “James, look, she’s hardly moving. She looks at me like I’m her enemy.”

James smirked, dismissing me with a glance. “She’s just putting on an act. Ignore her.”

My legs trembled with each step and every breath was a battle against the hunger and exhaustion weighing me down. James’s sneer only made the ache in my chest deeper, colder. His words felt like shards of ice, reminding me of how far he had drifted from me.

Sandra tilted her head, smiling innocently. “Oh, James, do you see how she looks at me? Like she wants to bite my head off!”

With every new complaint, James’s gaze darkened, his disdain for me growing more evident. Sandra kept me busy for over half an hour, ordering me to search for a nonexistent document she claimed to have misplaced somewhere in the villa. My feet stumbled up and down the stairs, my body running on pure willpower as I searched every room, my energy draining with each step.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she waved a hand. “Oh, I must have remembered wrong,” she sighed, feigning sympathy. “Sorry, Nadine. I hope you didn’t tire yourself too much.”

A faint flicker of relief washed over me and I turned, desperate for the kitchen, desperate for a moment to gather myself. But the relief was short-lived. In the next second, James’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, his grip painfully tight.

“I told you, Nadine,” he said coldly. “You’re going to apologize to Sandra. And I mean on your knees.”

I stared up at him, shock and anger mingling in my chest. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Why should I—”

The memory of Sandra’s blackmail stopped me mid-sentence. Her threats against the orphanage director echoed in my mind, silencing my protest. James’s grip tightened and I felt his contempt pressing down on me, suffocating me.

I was caught, torn between loyalty and despair. On one side was the orphanage director, who had raised me like her own; on the other was this false accusation that held me captive. My fists clenched, my nails biting into my palms. Anger and helplessness churned within me, but I could only kneel, defeated.

A bitter smile twisted my lips as I looked up at him. “Fine… I was wrong.”

The words tasted like poison, but as I tried to force them out, a sharp, nauseating pain gripped me. My body convulsed and I felt a stabbing ache in my lower abdomen. The world blurred and just before everything faded to black, I saw the horrified look in James’s eyes.

When I finally woke, I was in a bed, surrounded by the sterile, white light of a doctor’s examination room. A young doctor hovered nearby, her face drawn with concern. She glanced toward James, who stood beside her, visibly agitated.

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded, his voice a mixture of confusion and worry.

The doctor hesitated before answering, her voice heavy. “Mr. Graham… she… she’s extremely weak, both from physical strain and the severe distress she’s been under. I’m afraid… she’s had a miscarriage.”