When My Boyfriend Left Me Bleeding for His Mistress

The air outside tasted like rain. I stood on the sidewalk with my back against the venue's stone wall, pressing my fingertips to its surface. The cold steadied me. Inside, the gala was ending. People were collecting coats and saying their goodbyes. I had already signed the transfer papers on my phone. South Sudan. Three weeks from now. I would disappear into a war zone and never look back.

I heard footsteps approaching. Heavy, uneven. More than one person.

"That's her."

I turned. Three people stood in front of me. A man in his thirties with red-rimmed eyes. A woman older, her face lined with grief. A younger man, maybe twenty, with his hands clenched at his sides.

"Coraline Barnes," the older man said. His voice shook. "You destroyed my father."

I recognized him then. Raymond Holt. His father had been the CEO in my trafficking exposé. The man whose shell companies had moved hundreds of women across borders like cargo. The man who had hanged himself in his cell three months ago.

"Your father destroyed himself," I said quietly. "I only reported what he did."

"He was innocent!" the woman screamed. Raymond's mother. Her voice cracked. "You ruined him with your lies. You killed him!"

I opened my mouth to respond. Raymond shoved me. Hard. My shoulders hit the wall. The impact knocked the air from my lungs.

"You don't get to talk," he said. His face was inches from mine. "You don't get to defend yourself."

The younger man grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. I stumbled off the curb. My heel caught on the pavement and I went down. My palms hit concrete. The sting was immediate and sharp.

"Get up," Raymond said.

I tried. His shoe connected with my ribs before I could rise. The crack was audible. Pain exploded through my chest. I gasped and curled inward. The woman kicked me in the back. My face hit the ground. My lip split against the sidewalk. Blood filled my mouth.

"This is for my father," Raymond said. He kicked me again. My head snapped to the side. I heard the wet sound of impact. Felt the heat spreading across my cheek.

Hands grabbed my hair. Pulled. My scalp screamed. The younger man dragged me several feet before letting go. I collapsed again. My dress tore. Fabric ripped. I heard every sound with my new ears. The grunts of effort. The scrape of shoes on pavement. My own ragged breathing.

I tried to cover my head. Another kick landed on my shoulder. Then my hip. Then my ribs again. The same spot. I cried out. I couldn't stop myself.

"Killian!" His name tore from my throat. "Killian, please!"

I didn't know if he could hear me. I didn't know if he was even outside. But I screamed his name again, louder, desperate. "Killian!"

Footsteps. Running. The kicks stopped. I looked up through the blood in my eyes and saw him. Killian stood at the venue entrance, his face pale in the streetlight. Our eyes met. I was on the ground. Bleeding. My hand reached toward him without my permission.

For one second, he looked at me. Just looked.

Then Fallon's voice cut through the night. "Killian! Oh God, Killian, something's wrong!"

She was beside him, clutching her stomach, her face twisted in pain. "The baby," she gasped. "I think—I think I'm losing the baby!"

Killian's gaze shifted. From me to her. I watched it happen. Watched him turn away from me lying broken in the gutter and move toward her. He scooped her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck.

"Hold on," he said to her. His voice was gentle. Tender. "I've got you."

He carried her past me. I was three feet away. Blood pooling under my cheek. Ribs cracked. Dress torn. He did not look down. His car was at the curb. The door opened. He placed her carefully in the back seat. The door closed.

I tried to speak. My voice came out as a whisper. "Killian."

He didn't hear me. Or he chose not to. The car door slammed. The engine started. Taillights flared red in the darkness. Then they were gone.

I lay on the pavement and stared at the place where his car had been. Somewhere far away, someone was calling 911. A woman's voice. Concerned. I heard every word clearly. My new ears worked perfectly.

I closed my eyes. The rain started. Cold drops on my face, washing the blood toward the gutter. I did not move. I simply lay there and let the water come.