I Was the Secret Wife. My Sister Was the Chosen One. Not Anymore.

CHAPTER 5

EVELYN POV

"Beep..."

"Beep..."

The sound echoed through the silence again and again.

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt. A dull, unbearable ache spread through my entire body, especially my abdomen.

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Slowly, I forced them open.

Everything was blurry at first. The white ceiling. The bright lights. The unfamiliar room. Gradually, my vision cleared.

A hospital.

I was in a hospital.

The memories of last night came crashing back one after another.

Amelia's scream. Jason's slap. His shove. The sharp pain when my body crashed into the glass table. The blood.

I looked around the room.

It was empty. Not a single familiar face. No Jason. No mother. No father. No Amelia.

Of course. By now they were probably surrounding Amelia's bed, comforting her, worrying over her.

As for me. I was completely alone.

The door opened with a soft creak. A nurse stepped inside carrying a tray.

"Oh, you're awake, Miss Ashwood," she said, smiling gently.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, though another wave of pain shot through my stomach the moment I spoke.

The nurse caught the change in my expression. "The pain is normal. It'll get better gradually."

I nodded, then asked the question that had been sitting in my chest since I opened my eyes.

"My husband. Where is he? Wasn't he the one who brought me here?"

The nurse looked faintly surprised. "No. Someone called an ambulance for you. We're not sure who, perhaps one of the maids from your house."

I looked down.

So Jason hadn't even brought me here.

For a moment I almost laughed. Even after everything, some foolish part of me had still expected him to be the one who saved me.

The nurse hesitated, then said, "Your family hasn't come to see you yet. I thought they might still be with another patient." She paused, studying my face. "Your sister was also admitted last night."

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

So Amelia was here too.

"If you saw how attentive Mr. Blackwood is with his wife," the nurse added, brightening, entirely unaware, "you'd envy her. Every girl's dream husband, honestly."

I smiled. Small. Empty.

While I had been dying on my own floor, my husband was busy taking care of my sister in another.

The nurse seemed to catch herself and offered a quick smile instead. "You should rest. The doctor will be in shortly."

I nodded, and she left. Silence filled the room again.

I stared at the ceiling.

Not one of them had come to check if I was even alive. Not even my own husband.

Perhaps, to them, my life had never mattered at all.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. A middle-aged doctor stepped in, the same nurse trailing behind him.

"Good morning, Miss Ashwood," he said kindly, stopping beside the bed. "How are you feeling now?"

"My body still hurts," I answered.

"That's expected. You suffered a severe impact to your abdomen and lost a considerable amount of blood." He glanced at the chart in his hand, then back at me, his expression shifting. "There's something we need to tell you."

A strange unease settled in my chest.

"What is it?"

He was quiet a moment. Then he sighed.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

I frowned. "My loss?"

"I'm afraid we couldn't save your baby. You were approximately six weeks pregnant. We did everything we could after you were brought in, but the injury to your abdomen was too severe. We're truly sorry."

The room went silent. Too silent. His lips kept moving, but I couldn't hear another word.

Six weeks.

Pregnant.

Baby.

"No," I whispered. "That's impossible."

I lifted a trembling hand and placed it over my stomach.

Empty.

Our baby. Jason's and mine. Had been there this whole time.

Fresh tears blurred my vision, and his words from the night before came rushing back, stabbing into me all over again.

You can't even give me a child.

Maybe your black heart made you barren.

A broken laugh escaped me. Barren. I hadn't been barren. I had been carrying his child. Our child. And while it fought to stay alive, its father had been carrying another woman out the door.

If he had taken me to the hospital himself. If he hadn't left me bleeding on that floor. Would our baby still be alive?

The thought broke whatever strength I had left. Tears slid down freely now, and I didn't try to stop them.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, stroking my stomach gently. "I'm so sorry, my baby. Mommy couldn't protect you. I let people who never loved us hurt you. I'm sorry."

The doctor stood quietly, letting me grieve before he spoke again.

"There was nothing more we could have done. You were brought in too late." He paused. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, Miss Ashwood. You're still young. Please don't lose hope."

Hope.

The hope I had held onto for five years had died long before my baby did.

Still, I nodded politely. "Thank you, doctor."

He gave me one last sympathetic look before leaving with the nurse. The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room again.

I curled slowly onto my side, one hand resting over my now-empty stomach.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered. "I never even knew you were there. I didn't get the chance to protect you. I never even got to hear your heartbeat."

My shoulders shook as I cried.

No mother should have to say goodbye to her child before she even knew they existed.

If Jason had taken me to the hospital himself. If he had cared enough to look back, even once. If he had chosen me, just this one time. Maybe our baby would still be alive.

But he hadn't.

He chose Amelia. Just as he always did.

And our child paid the price for it.

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand.

No. I had cried enough.

For five years I had begged for love. For five years I had endured humiliation, loneliness, and disappointment, hoping that one day Jason would finally see me. I had been wrong. He never would.

The Evelyn who spent five years loving Jason Blackwood died together with her child in this hospital bed.

From this day on, Jason Blackwood meant nothing to me. Neither did the Ashwood family.

I was done chasing people who had never once chosen me.

My biological parents had searched for me for years. When they finally found me, I had refused to leave, still believing, foolishly, that this family would one day accept me.

I had mistaken tolerance for love.

I had mistaken obligation for family.

No more.

I would go to the people who had always wanted me.

I would reclaim the life that should have been mine from the beginning.

And this time, I would never look back.