I Lost Our Baby While He Was With Her

The brunch was at The Plaza. Sunlight poured through the tall windows like it was trying to make everything beautiful. White tablecloths. Crystal glasses. Women in pastel dresses laughing at things that weren't funny.

I stood near the dessert table with a sparkling water I wasn't drinking. Four months pregnant. Still showing up to these things because Elliot said it mattered. Still pretending I belonged.

Alessandra wore cream. She moved through the room like she owned it. Maybe she did. I watched her stop at a cluster of older women — the kind who decided which families stayed relevant and which ones disappeared.

She said something. They all turned to look at me.

My stomach dropped.

I set down my glass and walked over. Smiled. "Good morning."

One of the women — Margaret Chen, wife of a hedge fund manager — gave me a look that was half pity, half curiosity. "Cadence, dear. We were just hearing about your father's company. Such unfortunate news."

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"The investigation." Margaret's voice dropped to a stage whisper. "Federal regulators, I heard. Something about offshore accounts?"

My face went hot. "There's no investigation."

Alessandra touched my arm. Gentle. Concerned. "Oh, Cadence. You didn't know? I'm so sorry. I thought Elliot would have told you."

Every eye in the circle was on me now. I could feel the gossip spreading through the room like smoke.

"Excuse me." I turned and walked toward the hallway. Fast. Not running. Not giving them that.

Alessandra followed. Her heels clicked on the marble.

I pushed through a side door into a service corridor. Empty. Quiet. I spun around.

"What the hell was that?"

She stopped a few feet away. Tilted her head. "I was trying to be helpful."

"That was confidential information. If it even exists. How would you—"

"Elliot tells me things." She smiled. Small. Satisfied. "We're very close."

For one second, her mask slipped. I saw it. The coldness. The hunger. The absolute certainty that she had already won.

Then she gasped.

Her hand flew to her chest. Her knees buckled. She crumpled against the wall with a breathy little cry that somehow carried perfectly back toward the main room.

Footsteps. Voices. The door burst open.

"What happened?" A man I didn't know. Two women behind him.

Alessandra's eyes fluttered. "I don't… I can't…"

"She just collapsed," I said. My voice sounded far away. "I don't know—"

"Someone call an ambulance!" One of the women knelt beside Alessandra. Cradled her head. Looked up at me like I'd done something.

I stepped back. My hands were shaking.

Alessandra's eyes met mine for half a second. Clear. Focused. Triumphant.

Then they rolled back and closed.

---

Mount Sinai's emergency wing smelled like disinfectant and fear.

I sat in a plastic chair in the corridor outside the room where they'd taken Alessandra. My phone was in my hand. I'd called Elliot three times. No answer. Then I'd texted: *At Mount Sinai. Alessandra collapsed. Please come.*

Twenty minutes later, he arrived.

I heard him before I saw him. His voice, sharp and loud: "Where is she?"

I stood up. "Elliot—"

He walked past me. Didn't look at me. Went straight to the nurse's station. "Alessandra Lane. Where is she?"

The nurse pointed. Elliot turned toward the room.

I stepped in front of him. Put my hand on his arm. "Elliot, wait. You need to know what actually—"

He shoved me.

Not hard. Not violent. Just a dismissive push to get me out of his way.

But I was off-balance. Pregnant. Tired.

My hip slammed into the corner of a medical cart. Pain exploded through my side. I gasped and looked down.

Blood.

Dark and wet, spreading across the front of my dress.

"Elliot." My voice came out small. "Elliot, I'm bleeding."

He was already gone. Through the door. Alessandra's name on his lips.

A nurse saw me. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God. Sit down. Sit down right now."

I sat. The world tilted.

Someone was running. Someone was shouting. Hands on my shoulders, my wrist, my belly.

"How far along?"

"Four months."

"Get a gurney. Now."

I was moving. Ceiling tiles passed overhead. Fluorescent lights. A door. Voices I didn't recognize.

"Cadence, can you hear me?"

I nodded. Or thought I did.

"We're going to take care of you. Stay with me."

I tried to say something. Tried to ask where Elliot was. But my mouth wouldn't work.

The last thing I saw before they put me under was the clock on the wall.

3:47 PM.

---

When I woke up, the room was dark.

A nurse was checking my IV. She saw my eyes open and smiled. Sad. Professional.

"You're awake. How do you feel?"

I tried to sit up. Pain shot through my abdomen. I looked down at my stomach.

Flat.

Empty.

"No." The word came out broken. "No, no, no—"

"I'm so sorry." The nurse's hand was on my shoulder. "The trauma was too severe. We did everything we could."

I turned my head toward the door. "Where's my husband?"

She hesitated. "He's… he's been with Ms. Lane. She's stable. Resting comfortably in the room down the hall."

I closed my eyes.

Elliot had sat with Alessandra.

While I lost our baby.

While I bled out on an operating table.

He had chosen her.

Again.

The nurse left. I lay there in the dark, staring at nothing.

My phone buzzed on the side table. I picked it up.

A text from Carter: *I'm outside. Whenever you're ready.*

I didn't cry. I just typed back: *I'm ready.*