I CAME BACK FOR BLOOD

Seraphina's POV Julian doesn't say anything. That's the first thing that breaks me. Not his mother's cruelty. Not the divorce papers still sitting on the tray like a death sentence. Not even the way my body still aches from losing my baby. It's his silence. I look at him. Really look at him. Julian Ashford stands at the foot of my hospital bed in a tailored suit that costs more than my entire childhood home. His hair is neat. His face is calm. Too calm. His jaw is tight, his eyes distant, like he's already stepped away from me in his mind. "Julian," I whisper. My throat burns when I say his name. "Say something." Margaret Ashford lets out a satisfied breath beside him. "There's nothing to say," she says smoothly. "The situation is clear." "No," I insist, my voice shaking. "It's not. Julian, tell her she's wrong. Tell her this wasn't my fault. Tell her our baby..." Margaret slams her palm against the metal tray. "Do not say our baby," she snaps. "You lost the right to that." I flinch, but my eyes stay on Julian. "Please," I say. "You were there. You knew I wasn't feeling well. You knew I asked to go to the hospital earlier. You knew..." "I knew what?" Julian finally speaks, his voice low, controlled, almost bored. He doesn't come closer. He doesn't touch me. "That you were emotional? That you were stressed? Pregnancy does that." My heart stutters. "That's not fair," I whisper. "I told you something was wrong." "You always think something is wrong," Margaret cuts in. "You were always dramatic. Always fragile. We warned Julian about you." I shake my head. "That's not true. Julian, look at me." He does. Finally. And when he does, I know. There's no love there. There's discomfort. Irritation. Calculation. "Mom," he says slowly, turning to Margaret, "the press can't hear about this. We need to handle it quietly." My stomach drops. That's it? That's all he cares about? "So you agree?" I ask, my voice barely holding together. "You agree with her?" Julian exhales, rubbing his forehead. "Rina..." "Seraphina," I correct sharply. He pauses. "Seraphina," he says, like the name tastes foreign now. "This marriage... it was rushed. We both know that." My chest tightens. "You begged me to marry you," I remind him. "You said you loved me." Margaret scoffs. "Love," she repeats mockingly. "Don't be naive. This family doesn't run on love." Julian doesn't deny it. "I didn't know things would end like this," he says. "But the damage is done." "The damage?" I whisper. "I lost our child." "And the Ashford name almost lost its future," Margaret snaps. "Do you know what people would say if they found out the heir's wife couldn't even carry a baby to term?" Something cold settles in my chest. So that's what this is. Image. Legacy. Not grief. Not pain. Not me. "You're choosing her," I say to Julian. "Over me." "I'm choosing what's best," he replies. I laugh, a broken sound. "You mean what's best for you." He doesn't answer. Margaret straightens, already done with this. "She'll sign the papers," she says. "And she'll leave today." "I'm still recovering," I protest. "I can't even stand properly." "You'll manage," Margaret replies coolly. "You managed to ruin our bloodline. Walking out shouldn't be difficult." My hands curl into fists. "You're heartless." "And you," she says sweetly, "are disposable." The word echoes in my head. Disposable. Julian finally looks uncomfortable. "Mom, maybe give her a day-" "No," Margaret says sharply. "The longer she stays, the messier it becomes." I look at Julian one last time. "If I walk out that door," I say, "don't ever pretend you didn't know what you did to me." His lips press into a thin line. "I'll have my lawyer contact yours." I don't have a lawyer. Margaret signals to the two men standing near the door, security. I hadn't noticed them before. "Escort her out," she orders. "What?" I gasp. "You can't..." One of them grabs my arm. Not gently. "Don't touch me!" I cry, panic rushing through me. "Julian!" He turns away. That's the moment something inside me shatters completely. They pull me off the bed. My legs buckle. Pain shoots through my body, sharp and unforgiving. "I just lost my baby!" I scream. "Have some mercy!" Margaret watches with a calm smile. "Mercy is a privilege," she says. "You no longer qualify." The doors open. The hallway blurs. Nurses stare. Some look away. No one intervenes. I'm dragged forward, my feet barely touching the floor, my heart pounding in my ears. I twist once, just once, to look back. Julian is already gone. And then they drag me out of the mansion doors, the cold air slamming into my skin as my body gives in and my knees hit the ground.