The Lie He Called Love

Alena Koch POV: Britney' s words were a venomous hiss, cutting through the haze of pain. "Whose baby?" she screeched, her voice laced with malice. "She' s probably just been sleeping around, Jake! You can' t trust her! You just got back!" I clung to Jake, my nails digging into his suit jacket, the pain in my abdomen a burning furnace. "Hospital, Jake! Please! Now!" My vision blurred, spots dancing before my eyes. I felt cold, so cold, despite the sweat beading on my forehead. Jake froze. His footsteps faltered, then stopped. He looked down at me, then at the blood, a strange, blank look on his face. "Bleeding?" he mumbled, his brow furrowed. "Is this… is this that old problem of yours, Alena? Your… feminine troubles? You always were so dramatic about it." He actually chuckled, a nervous, dismissive sound. "Do you have any tissues? Or maybe some grass to stop it?" Britney' s eyes, filled with a fleeting look of jealousy, quickly morphed back into a predatory triumph. "See, Jake?" she crooned, her voice falsely sweet. "I told you! She just wants attention. She probably planned this. She's just having a period, Jake. Or a miscarriage. That' s what happens when you' re… careless. You know, when she applied for that job at your facility, she was so upset, she even mentioned how she hadn' t been able to conceive for ages. I told you then, Jake, I told you she was desperate. I said you should really go to Project Chimera, get away from her, and see things clearly." Jake looked down at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "You' re right, Britney. She always was a drama queen." He looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. "Tell you what, Alena. I' ll bet you fifty dollars this is just a really bad period." "Jake, no!" Britney protested, but the anger in her voice was performative, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Don' t bet on something so gross!" He ignored her, his gaze unwavering on me. "Fifty bucks, Alena. What do you say?" I stared at him, at the man who was once my future, bleeding, begging, and he was making a bet. They both just stood there, watching me bleed, watching me die, a morbid spectacle for their entertainment. No help. No compassion. Just a cold, calculating bet. My strength was fading. I pushed against Jake' s chest, trying to slip from his arms, to crawl. "Help! Someone, please help me!" I croaked, my voice barely audible, dragging myself inch by painful inch towards the cemetery gate. Britney' s foot landed squarely on my back, pinning me to the ground. "Oh no, you don' t, Alena," she snarled, all pretense gone. "The bet' s not over yet. You' re not going anywhere until Jake wins." Jake, seeing me try to escape, grabbed my arm and dragged me back, slamming me against the cold earth. The impact sent another wave of agony through me. "Let go of me!" I screamed, a desperate, guttural cry. "You will regret this! My husband will make you regret this! Davion Carpenter! He' s the director of Project Chimera, you fool! He' ll destroy you!" "Davion Carpenter?" Britney scoffed, her laugh high-pitched and mocking. "You think Jake' s boss would marry you? Please. You' re delusional, Alena. Just admit you' re having a breakdown." My hand, fueled by a last surge of adrenaline, shot out and slapped her hard across the face. "He' s my husband, you vile witch!" Jake' s eyes, suddenly alight with a terrifying rage, ripped me off Britney. He shoved me back to the ground. "Apologize to her, Alena! Right now!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the cemetery. My head swam, my body trembled, cold sweat pouring down my face. The pain was relentless, a dull drumbeat of agony. Jake ignored my distress. He grabbed Britney' s hand, his thumb gently caressing her cheek where my hand had struck. "Let' s get some ice on that, Brit. You' re going to bruise." He looked at me, his face impassive. "If you don' t apologize, Alena, you can just lie there. Figure out your 'problem' on your own." He turned, pulling Britney away, leaving me alone, bleeding, on the cold, hard ground. My blood felt like ice, seeping into the earth, each drop carrying away a piece of me, a piece of my hope. My vision blurred, the world dissolving into a hazy wash of gray. I felt a crushing weight, as if the entire cemetery was pressing down on me. Then, a shadow fell over me. A strong hand gently lifted my head. "Alena," a voice, deep and resonant, murmured, a voice I knew, a voice that was my anchor. "I' m here. I' ve got you." It was Davion. My Davion. He cradled me in his arms, his face etched with a terrifying fury I had never seen. I vaguely registered another figure, Davion' s assistant, standing nearby. He held a small, gleaming blade in his hand, his eyes fixed on the retreating figures of Jake and Britney. "Sir," the assistant asked, his voice chillingly calm, "how do you want me to handle this?"