Shattered Vows His Mistress Killed My Baby

Melvin pulled Vivian into his arms, his face tight with concern.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Vivian leaned against him, her voice small and pitiful.

"Don't blame her. She probably can't help it. She can't have children of her own, so seeing me pregnant must have set her off. She didn't mean to hurt me or the baby."

Otis's expression darkened in an instant.

"Elaine, what is your problem? You can't have kids—that's your cross to bear. Don't take it out on other people."

"Apologize to Vivian. Now."

I let out a cold laugh and pointed to the security camera mounted in the corner.

"There are cameras in this house. They record audio too. Why don't you watch the footage before you start pointing fingers?"

The color drained from Vivian's face. She shifted uneasily.

"Forget it, forget it. She just lost her head for a second. I don't blame her. My stomach really hurts, though. We should go to the hospital and make sure the baby's okay."

Melvin looked at me with undisguised disappointment.

"I treated you like family. And you tried to hurt my child. This isn't over, Elaine. You owe me an explanation."

He scooped Vivian up and walked out without another word.

Otis shot me a withering glare before following them to the door.

"You went too far this time. When I get back, you and I are going to have a long talk."

I said nothing. After they left, I dragged my suitcase out of the house.

I had just gotten into the car when my phone buzzed. An anonymous video.

Vivian had just finished her checkup. She clung to Otis's arm, her voice trembling with barely concealed fear.

"Otis, do you think Elaine knows? That her baby didn't die in the accident—that I strangled it? Is that why she came after me like that?"

"Otis, I'm so scared."

He pulled her close, stroking her hair.

"She doesn't know anything. The driver I hired left the country. Nobody knows that crash was staged except the three of us. And nobody will ever find out how her baby really died."

Melvin's voice cut in, bitter and sharp.

"It's that driver's fault. He couldn't even time it right—couldn't kill the baby on impact. The kid survived the crash and had to be delivered. If he'd done his job, Vivian wouldn't have had to finish it herself."

The crash was staged.

My baby survived it. They killed my child with their own hands.

Rage erupted inside my chest like a furnace door blown open. I told the driver to turn around and floor it to the hospital.

Vivian spotted me coming down the corridor. She opened her mouth, ready to provoke me again.

My palm connected with her face before she could get a word out.

"Vivian Whitmore, I'm here to collect the debt you owe my child—with your life!"