Justice Served By My True Love

The backseat of Ethan's sleek, black sedan was a suffocating cage. Jenna, perched in the passenger seat, immediately launched into a breathless monologue about her day, her glowing prenatal yoga class, and Ethan's thoughtful planning for the nursery. She chattered incessantly, her voice a high-pitched drone, filling every available space in the car with her self-importance.

"And Ethan, darling, you know how much I love the crib you picked out. It's just perfect! Our little one is going to be so cozy." She glanced back at me, a smug smile on her face. "You know, Alize, Ethan is just over the moon about this baby. He talks about it constantly. It's so sweet. I never realized he had such a paternal side."

Ethan grunted in response, a noncommittal sound. His eyes, however, weren't on the road. They kept flicking up to the rearview mirror, catching my gaze in unsettling flashes. His brow was furrowed, his expression unreadable, a strange mix of suspicion and intense focus.

"Anyway, Alize," Jenna continued, oblivious to the tension radiating in the car, "it sounds like you've had a tough few years. After everything with... you know." She waved a dismissive hand. "It must be hard to start over. But don't worry, there are so many options these days for women who want to get back on track. I even know a fantastic fertility clinic, if you're interested. Ethan and I are so blessed to be able to conceive naturally, but not everyone is so lucky."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to tell her exactly what kind of "fertility clinic" I was intimately familiar with, thanks to her fiancé.

"So, where can we drop you off, Alize?" Jenna asked, turning fully to face me now, her smile brimming with false concern. "I mean, it's pouring out there. And it's getting late. Wherever you are, I'm sure it's not ideal for you to be out."

I hesitated for only a second. This was Ethan's car. He probably knew my old address, the one where we lived before I became a ghost. But I wasn't that person anymore. I had a life. A real one.

"The Townsend Estate," I said, my voice steady, though my stomach did a little flip. "On Whispering Pines Lane."

Jenna's eyes widened, her jaw dropping slightly. She glanced at Ethan, who had suddenly stiffened, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"The Townsend Estate?" Jenna repeated, a high-pitched incredulity in her voice. "But... isn't that where Abraham Townsend lives? The CEO of Townsend Global? The billionaire? Alize, are you sure? That's, like, the most exclusive residential area in the city." Her eyes scanned my simple dress, my plain demeanor, her expression a mix of bewilderment and suspicion. "Are you just dropping off something for someone? Because I heard Abraham Townsend is a widower. And he has a daughter, Mia, doesn't he?"

Ethan remained silent, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his eyes still fixed on me in the rearview mirror.

I forced a wry smile. "Oh, yes, I'm sure. And no, Jenna, I'm not 'dropping something off.' I live there." I paused, letting the words sink in. "I guess I just prefer to keep a low profile these days. You know, after all the... drama." I nodded pointedly at Ethan in the mirror. "Not everyone needs to announce their good fortune to the world, right?"

Jenna's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She looked utterly flummoxed, her perfect facade crumbling. Ethan's head snapped forward, his eyes glued to the road, but I could feel the tremor in his hands, the rigid tension in his shoulders.

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Jenna, for once, was speechless. Ethan drove with a furious intensity, his eyes darting between the road and my reflection. The opulent car, once a symbol of his success, now felt like a gilded cage, trapping us in a bizarre, uncomfortable tableau.

The air in the car grew heavy, making my stomach churn more violently. The nausea, which I had attributed to stress, now felt overwhelming. My carefully constructed composure was cracking.

"Could you... could you open the window?" I gasped, clutching my stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick." I didn't have to fake the distress. My body was genuinely rebelling now.

Ethan, his face grim, hit a button, and the window whirred down, letting in a blast of cold, wet air. The sudden gust caught Jenna's scarf, whipping it across her face.

Just then, the car hit a patch of standing water. Ethan, clearly distracted, swerved violently. The tires screeched, and the sedan fishtailed, slamming into the guardrail with a sickening thud.

My hands flew to my stomach, instinctively protecting the empty space where a baby once grew. It was a primal, ingrained reaction, a phantom limb of motherhood.

Jenna shrieked, clutching her arm, tears immediately springing to her eyes. "Ethan! My arm! The baby!" she wailed, her voice high and shrill.

Ethan barely glanced at her. His eyes were glued to me, wide and disbelieving. He saw my hands, pressed protectively against my abdomen, a gesture I hadn't even consciously made.

His voice was a low growl, barely audible above Jenna's sobs. "Alize. Are you... are you pregnant again?" He stared at me, his eyes burning with a sudden, terrifying realization. "And who did you marry? Who is the father?"

I stared back at him, then down at my hands still instinctively guarding my empty womb. A cold fury, sharp and precise, pierced through the fog of my nausea. I slowly lowered my hands, straightened my spine, and met his gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Pregnant?" I repeated, a small, humorless smile playing on my lips. "Oh, Ethan, you really missed out on quite a lot, didn't you?" I took a deep, steadying breath, my voice clear and firm. "Yes, I am married. And I have been for five years. I divorced you, and remarried, all within a matter of months. Didn't you get the memo?"