The Unwanted Bride Takes Back Her Crown

Annabella clutched her stomach, fighting the dull ache as she carried a heavy cardboard box toward the executive elevator. The box was filled with her law degree, her favorite fountain pens, and the few personal files she kept at her desk.

She pressed the down button. The metal doors slid open silently. She stepped into the mahogany-paneled elevator car and let out a long, shaky breath, leaning her shoulder against the wall for support.

Just as the doors began to close, a hand in a custom-tailored suit shot through the gap.

The doors bounced back open. Ethan stepped into the elevator.

He brought a wave of cold, aggressive energy into the small space. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly messy. He had clearly just driven back from the hospital in a rage.

His eyes immediately dropped to the cardboard box in her arms. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He rubbed his left chest, a clear sign he was preparing to manipulate her.

The doors slid shut. The elevator began its descent to the parking garage. The silence in the small box was deafening, broken only by the hum of the cables.

"You really love putting on a show, don't you?" Ethan sneered, his voice echoing off the wood panels.

He pointed a finger at the box. "Do you honestly think packing up your desk is going to scare me? You think this little stunt is going to make me beg you to come back?"

Annabella didn't look at him. She stared straight ahead at the digital floor indicator, watching the red numbers tick down.

"This is standard offboarding procedure," Annabella said, her voice completely flat. "It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

Her indifference infuriated him. Ethan took a massive step forward, closing the distance between them. He planted his hand on the wall right next to her head, trapping her in the corner.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "Stop acting like a child. Put the box back upstairs. If you walk out of this building right now, I will not let you back in. I am giving you one last chance to fix this."

Annabella turned her head. She looked him dead in the eye. The sheer arrogance radiating off him made her want to laugh.

"You aren't angry because you love me, Ethan," Annabella said coldly. "You're angry because you just lost your best corporate lawyer, and your favorite obedient pet, all in the same day."

Ethan's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to yell, to tell her she was crazy, to tell her he loved her.

Before he could speak, his cell phone rang.

It wasn't his standard ringtone. It was a soft, melodic chime. The custom ringtone he had set exclusively for Donie.

The sound sliced through the tension in the elevator. Ethan froze. His hand dropped from the wall. He instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone.

The caller ID showed the nurses' station at Mount Sinai.

Annabella looked at the phone, then looked up at Ethan. The corner of her mouth curled into a bitter, mocking smile. She shifted her weight and gestured toward the phone with her chin. "Go ahead. Your master is calling."

Ethan ground his teeth together. He swiped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. "What's wrong?" he demanded, his voice tight with panic.

"Mr. Kowalski, Donie's heart rate is irregular," the nurse said quickly. "She is crying and asking for you. She won't let us draw blood."

Ethan's face went pale again. The tough, commanding CEO vanished, replaced by a frantic, desperate man.

Ding.

The elevator arrived at the underground parking garage. The metal doors slid open.

Ethan didn't even look at Annabella. He didn't say goodbye. He sprinted out of the elevator, his dress shoes slapping against the concrete as he ran toward his sports car.

"I'm coming, Donie, I'm right here," he said into the phone, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Annabella stood in the elevator, watching his back disappear into the shadows of the garage.

Suddenly, a blinding, tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen.

It was a hundred times worse than the cramp at the traffic light. It felt like a serrated knife was twisting through her intestines.

Annabella gasped, the air rushing out of her lungs. Her knees buckled.

The cardboard box slipped from her fingers. It crashed onto the floor of the elevator. The glass frame of her law degree shattered. Pens and files spilled across the floor.

Cold sweat instantly broke out across her forehead, soaking her hairline. She bit down on her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood, refusing to scream.

The elevator doors, sensing no movement, began to slide shut.

Annabella dropped to her knees. She grabbed the files with shaking hands, shoving them blindly into the broken box. She dragged the box out of the elevator just as the doors clicked shut behind her, leaving her alone in the dark garage with the agony tearing her apart.