The Eighth and Final Call

Connor hung up.

The eighth time. The eighth failure.

A grim, blood-flecked smile tugged at my lips. I slid down the wall, the warmth seeping out of me along with my life.

My instincts—usually a frantic, fluttering thing in my chest—were still.

I turned my gaze to the stairs. It was quiet. Stella was either still asleep... or, more likely, huddled trembling under her covers, too terrified to make a sound.

The thought hurt more than the gash in my belly.

My little baby, scared and alone, and I couldn't even lift a hand to comfort her.

What would happen to her after I was gone?

Left here... with that monster?

My phone buzzed in the spreading pool of my blood.

It took every last ounce of my strength, but I forced my blurring vision to focus.

It was Bianca.

"Hey, Aurelia. I'm hosting a charity gala. The whole family is here to support me. So, you know, no one's really in the mood for your drama."

"I just don't get it. You've already lost. Why can't you just accept it and disappear?"

Bitterness rose in my throat. I wasn't fighting. I hadn't been for years.

I was just trying to keep my daughter alive.

A desperate, final surge of adrenaline flooded me. I fumbled for the phone, pressing it to my ear.

I was about to beg the person I hated most in the world.

"Bianca..." My voice was a raw, wet gasp. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn't have… tried to compete with you. I'll cut myself—deeply, as many times as you want. Please… just come get my daughter. Please."

She loved making me hurt myself, but even for her, this was a new level of cruelty.

The words tore from my throat, taking the last of my dignity with them.

"Wait, what?" Bianca's response was first shock, then a slow-blooming excitement. "Are you serious? You'd really cut yourself? Then do it! Let me hear it!"

My hand trembled violently as I reached for it.

The small paring knife was still on the table.

And then—

A line of blood bloomed across my forearm.

The pain was a clean, sharp explosion on my skin.

Another. And another. And another.

Each slice was a searing note of agony, and I forced myself to keep going.

My vision blurred. Fire shot up my arm, the flesh swelling as the blade bit deep.

"I'll... do anything..." I choked out. "Please... just take my daughter. Please..."

Another slice. And another.

Until my arm was just a humming, numb thing of fire.

Bianca's laughter burst from the receiver. Bright. Triumphant. Vicious.

"You really did it? Oh, this is just priceless. Seven years, Aurelia. You finally broke."

Yes. I was broken.

"Come… get Stella…" I whispered, my words slurring as consciousness began to fray.

Bianca's tone snapped, suddenly sharp as a razor's edge.

"Aurelia? I thought you said 'my daughter'? Still trying to sneak your way back into the family?"

I tried to speak again.

Stella. Please...

No sound came out. Only a wet, broken rasp from my throat.

"Cat got your tongue, Aurelia?" Bianca taunted, her voice dripping with contempt. "Or did I finally strike a nerve?"

In the background, my father's deep, authoritative voice cut in.

"That's enough, Aurelia. Stop this attention-seeking drama."

"I have a meeting with the Sterling executives in two weeks."

"I'll see you then."

Two weeks.

After all these years... he was finally coming.

Too late.

My vision darkened, the world splintering and slipping away.

I'm sorry, Stella. Mommy couldn't escape this cage.

If there is a soul...

If there is anything after this...

I will watch over you.