He Chose Her Over Our Dead Child

Danial's eyes stayed on the potted fern for two agonizing seconds. His jaw tightened, her body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"Danial," Daria whimpered. She suddenly doubled over, her hands clutching her stomach. "Ow. It hurts."

Danial's focus shattered. He whipped his head back to her, his expression instantly shifting from suspicion to panic. He crouched down, his hands hovering over her belly. "What's wrong? Is it the baby? Should I get the doctor?"

Daria shook her head, biting her lip. "No, it's just a cramp. The baby is kicking too hard. I just need to sit down."

Deidre let out a shaky, silent breath. Cold sweat drenched her back, making her silk shirt cling to her skin like a second, freezing layer. She watched as Danial guided Daria to a plush sofa right across the lobby, just around the corner from where Deidre was hiding. If he turned his head even slightly, he would see her shoes.

Deidre tried to move. She tried to lift her feet and sneak toward the exit. But her legs felt like they were filled with wet cement. The adrenaline crash, combined with her failing heart, left her weak and trembling. She was trapped, forced to listen from the shadows like a ghost in her own life.

Daria leaned her head against Danial's shoulder, her voice a sweet, sticky purr. "I'm so tired, Danial. I just want this baby to be safe. I want to know he'll be taken care of."

"He will be," Danial said, his voice low and soothing. "I've already taken care of it. I had the lawyers set up an irrevocable trust fund in the Cayman Islands. Everything will be in his name. He'll want for nothing."

Deidre's heart skipped a beat, then crashed against her ribs. A trust fund. An irrevocable trust in the Caymans. That was something he had never even offered for their unborn daughter, Lily. He had never once spoken of trust funds or futures for the baby they had so desperately wanted. He was giving his illegitimate child a fortune while his wife was left with nothing but a dying heart.

Daria traced a finger down Danial's chest. "But what about Deidre? I hate feeling like this, Danial. I hate that our child will be labeled a bastard. I don't want to be a secret forever."

Danial went quiet. The silence stretched out, thick and heavy. When he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of any warmth. "Deidre is just a placeholder. A decoration to keep the Wall Street board happy. She's a Guthrie, and the alliance is useful for now. But her time is running out. I'll deal with her when the moment is right."

The words hit Deidre like a physical blow. A placeholder. A decoration. Her breath hitched in her throat. She pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her breaking heart. It wasn't just emotional pain; it was a physical, crushing weight on her chest that made it impossible to draw a full breath.

Daria let out a soft, melodic laugh. It was a sound of pure victory. "You're so good to me. So much better than you are to her. I still remember two years ago, when she had that ectopic pregnancy. It was so hard on her, seeing her crying all over the house broke my heart. It's a shame it had to happen."

Danial's tone hardened instantly. "Don't bring that up. It was an unfortunate accident. I don't want to talk about it. It ruins the mood."

Deidre bit down on the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. An accident. The loss of their daughter was just an annoying blip in his day, a mood ruiner. She swallowed the blood and the bile, her body shaking with suppressed grief.

Danial's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his expression turned to stone. "It's the board. There's an emergency meeting. I have to go."

Daria pouted, grabbing his tie and pulling him down. She pressed her lips against his, kissing him deeply, right there in the public lobby. It wasn't a quick peck; it was a claim of ownership.

Deidre's stomach he heave. She clamped her hand tighter over her mouth, biting back a dry heave. She watched her husband kiss another woman, the woman carrying his child, and felt a piece of her soul rot away.

"I'll come by your apartment tonight," Danial said, pulling back and stroking her cheek.

"Promise?" Daria whispered.

"Promise."

Danial stood up, adjusted his coat, and strode out of the lobby without a backward glance. The glass doors swung shut behind him, cutting off the cold wind.

The moment he was gone, Daria's soft, vulnerable expression vanished. Her face smoothed into a mask of cold arrogance. She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

"Keep watching her," Daria said into the receiver, her voice sharp and commanding. "I want to know every move she makes."

Deidre's blood ran cold. The anonymous text. It had been Daria all along. She had sent the photo to lure Deidre here, to torture her, to rub her face in the affair.

Daria stood up, smoothing her maternity dress. A burly bodyguard appeared from the hallway, escorting her toward the VIP elevator. The doors slid shut, and the lobby was finally empty.

Deidre's legs gave out. She slid down the wall, collapsing onto the cold marble floor. Her body felt hollowed out, a shell left to rot.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" A janitor with a mop paused, looking at her with concern.

Deidre shook her head numbly. She forced herself to grip the wall, pulling herself upright. She didn't feel the cold of the floor, didn't feel the ache in her knees. She felt nothing at all.

She walked out of the hospital. The New York blizzard had arrived. The sky was a dark, churning mass of grey, and fat snowflakes were plummeting to the ground. The wind howled down the streets, biting through her thin coat.

Deidre didn't button her coat. She didn't put up her hood. She stepped out into the storm, letting the freezing snow hit her face, melting into her hair and running down her neck like icy fingers.

A placeholder. A decoration. I'll deal with her.

The words echoed in her mind, louder than the storm. She replayed the image of Danial kissing Daria, the promise to visit her apartment tonight.

A black Maybach sped past her, its tires splashing through a slushy puddle. Freezing, dirty water soaked the hem of her coat, but she didn't flinch. She just kept walking, a ghost wandering the streets of Manhattan.

Her hand drifted to her stomach. Underneath the layers of silk and wool, a tiny life was growing. A life she was supposed to terminate. A life she was supposed to sacrifice for a husband who saw her as nothing more than a temporary pawn.

A fierce, unfamiliar resolve began to burn through the ice in her veins. She stopped at a crosswalk, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She pulled her phone out of her wet bag. Her fingers were stiff, but she navigated to her notes app.

She had pages and pages of entries. Folic acid brands. Prenatal yoga classes. Baby name ideas. Months of desperate, hopeful planning for a child she thought she could never have.

Deidre highlighted them all. Every single entry. Every hopeful thought.

She hit delete.

The screen went blank. She stared at it for a long moment, then shoved the phone back into her bag. She looked up into the storm, her face set in hard lines. She was done being a placeholder.