Too Late To Beg

TAMSIN

"How could you?"

James's voice came out raw and broken.

"How could you betray me like this? Lie about being pregnant just to manipulate me into killing my child?" He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing. "Do you understand what you almost made me do? I was going to make Isla terminate. Because I believed you. Because I trusted you."

The words landed like blows.

"What kind of person does that?" His voice cracked. "What kind of person uses a fake pregnancy as a weapon?"

I stood there. Frozen. Tears sliding down my face.

He looked at me one more time. Something that might have been pain flashed across his face. Then he turned and walked out.

The silence that followed felt like drowning.

I became aware of movement behind me and turned my head slowly.

Isla was smiling. Not the careful, tragic smile she wore for James. This one was pure triumph.

She turned to Mrs. Whitmore, who immediately swept her into another embrace.

"Don't worry, darling," the older woman cooed. "We'll get you married to James before the baby comes. You'll be family. Properly this time."

I turned away, and walked back toward the bedroom on legs that didn't feel attached to my body.

Of course I was a fool, I thought. What was I expecting? James never planned to choose me. It was all performance. In the end, he showed me exactly where I stood.

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to grip the doorframe.

I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up.

Afterward, I stood at the sink, hands shaking, hungry but unable to imagine eating. There was this tightness in my chest that made breathing feel like work.

I quickly washed up, went back to the bedroom, and started packing what was left of my things.

Then, I heard footsteps behind me.

I didn't turn around. Maybe James had come back. Maybe he'd realized how wrong he was.

But it was too late. My mind was made up.

But the voice that spoke wasn't his.

"Leaving so soon?"

I turned. Isla stood in the doorway, that smile still playing at her lips.

My stomach cramped, hard. I didn't have the energy for this.

"Yes," I said flatly. "You can have him."

She laughed. It was soft and musical. "Oh, Tamsin. You are not giving him to me. I'm taking back what was always mine." She stepped into the room. "James belonged to me long before you showed up and stole him. But don't worry. I'm here to correct that mistake now."

I'd suspected it for months. The way she looked at him. The way she inserted herself into every corner of our marriage. But hearing her say it out loud still landed like a blow.

"Congratulations," I managed. "You've won."

Because she had. There was nothing left to salvage here. The man I'd loved was gone. The one left behind was a stranger who thought I was capable of faking a pregnancy to destroy his child.

That hurt worse than anything else. Worse than the affair. Worse than the baby. Worse than all of it.

He thought I was lying.

I tried to lift my suitcase, but it was too heavy. My arms felt like water, so I left it on the floor.

James had destroyed my phone. I'd have to go out if I needed someone to help with my luggage. It was better to leave now and come back for my things later.

I was halfway to the door when Isla's hand shot out, grabbed my arm and shoved me backward.

"That bastard in your stomach won't save you," she hissed.

I staggered, and caught myself on the bedpost.

Something in me snapped.

My hand flew up before I thought about it, and connected with her face with a crack that echoed.

Isla screamed. Loud enough to wake the dead.

I didn't care. I raised my hand a second time, but James burst through the door and caught my wrist mid-swing.

"Tammy, stop!" His voice was sharp with shock. "What are you doing?"

I tried to pull away, but he held on, though not roughly. Like he was trying to restrain me without hurting me.

Isla sobbed. Perfect, theatrical sobs. "I only came to talk to her. To ask her not to be angry with you. To give my baby a chance because it's yours too." Her voice broke beautifully. "She just attacked me for no reason."

"Let me go," I said through my teeth.

James released my wrist and stepped back.

I stumbled, and my foot caught on the suitcase. I tried to catch myself but my body was moving wrong, too fast.

My stomach slammed into the bedpost.

Pain exploded through me. White-hot and terrible.

I cried out. Doubled over. One hand clutching my abdomen. I collapsed forward, upper body draping over the bed, legs still on the floor. I couldn't straighten. I couldn't move.

Something warm trickled down my inner thighs.