Chapter 4

"Xandra! I've already told you! Melinda's in trouble—accosted by some drunk!" Zayn exclaimed, his voice brimming with indignation.

"As a woman yourself, can't you imagine her terror? Yet she's trying not to worry me, thinking of my feelings! Why can't you show her more compassion?"

His words pierced me like icicles, cold and cutting. My heart ached with a whirlwind of emotions—rage, betrayal, anguish. I was torn between weeping and hysterical laughter.

While Zayn continued his tirade, utterly blind to my suffering, I forced myself to act. Disregarding the excruciating pain in my fractured limb, I inched towards him. Each movement was agonizing, but I persevered. At last, I reached him and wrenched open his satchel.

There it was—my mobile. He had seized it, ensuring I couldn't summon help, all to guarantee he could rush to her rescue unimpeded.

How ludicrous.

This man, who professed his love for me, had abandoned me in unbearable heat, leaving me no means of escape. If I hadn't shattered the vehicle's window in a desperate act, I'd have perished. Yet even then, he reclaimed the phone.

Perhaps he worried I'd alert the authorities, exposing his misdeeds. So he confined me to a storage room before departing.

"Stay put and behave," he said nonchalantly, as if restraining a mischievous child rather than an injured, bleeding woman.

Then he turned and left, abandoning me without a backward glance.

A frigid gust swept through the room, penetrating my thin top and chilling me to my core. The storage area was kept at glacial temperatures—below ten degrees—to preserve the costly dance footwear stored there.

But I wasn't a pair of shoes. I pounded on the glass with my remaining strength, my voice raw and pleading, "Zayn! I swear I won't call the police! Just release me, please! It's freezing—I'll die in here!"

But my cries went unanswered. Only the hollow echo of my voice responded. Time became a blur. The biting cold seeped into my bones, numbing my extremities. My voice faded to silence. I curled into a ball, futilely trying to preserve what little warmth remained. It was useless.

Soon, I could no longer feel the cold. A strange warmth enveloped me, gentle yet deceptive. I recognized this as the onset of hypothermia, the body's final deception before succumbing to the cold.

I couldn't resist. My strength was depleted, and all I could do was lie there, gazing at the shadowy ceiling, feeling life's fragile thread slipping away. My eyelids drooped. Then, oblivion.

When consciousness returned, the pungent odor of disinfectant filled my nostrils. The harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room flickered above.

"You're conscious," a voice said.

A physician stood beside me, his expression composed yet compassionate. He offered a glass of water with steady hands.

"How did you end up trapped in that storage room? Were you abducted or forced?" he inquired, his tone gentle but serious. "Don't be afraid. If you need assistance, I can contact the authorities for you."

I tried to respond, but words failed me. Instead, tears cascaded down my cheeks. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I was alive. I had evaded death—escaped him.

The doctor, sensing my distress, didn't press further. He leaned down to meet my gaze and explained patiently, "I was accompanying my sister to the dance event. She forgot something backstage, and when I went to retrieve it, I noticed blood on the floor. I followed the trail to the storage room."

"Fortunately, I wasn't too late," he added with a slight smile. "Otherwise, you'd have frozen solid by now."

He paused momentarily, regarding me with a mixture of regret and sympathy.

"I know who you are," he said at last. "The exceptional talent in the dance world—someone destined for greatness." His voice softened further. "But I must inform you... your leg... you won't be able to dance again."

The news hit me harder than any physical blow. My body shook with sobs as I buried my face in my hands, trembling uncontrollably.

The doctor—who introduced himself as Adam Grant—stood nearby, visibly uncertain how to comfort me. Finally, he handed me another document.

"Ms. Neall," he said gently, "there's something else. You're... expecting."

"What?"

I stared at the report in disbelief, reading the words repeatedly. My heart twisted, a maelstrom of emotions overwhelming me.

I placed my hand on my abdomen, sensing the faint stirrings of a life I hadn't known existed.

Tears streamed down my face once more, but this time, I couldn't discern if they were from sorrow, fear, or a tiny glimmer of hope.

Ten minutes. That's all it took to reach a decision. Bringing a child into a loveless world—into such a family—would only breed more suffering. Not just for the child, but for me as well.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as my heart felt like it was being shredded. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look at Adam, his steady presence somehow grounding me amidst my emotional turmoil.

"Doctor," I began, my voice quavering but determined. "Please arrange an abortion for me. Thank you."

For a moment, Adam seemed taken aback by my words. Then he gave a quiet nod, his usual composure returning.

I reclined against the hospital bed, the acute pain in my chest intensifying with each breath. When Adam kindly offered to notify the police on my behalf, I declined.

The Erickson Family wielded considerable influence—one of the most powerful families in the city. Adam, despite his good intentions, would only invite trouble by getting involved. Moreover, if I couldn't destroy them with one decisive strike, premature action would only alert them to my intentions.

Instead, he provided me with a phone. I logged into my social media account, needing to glimpse the world beyond this stifling room.

The moment I opened the app, a new post from Melinda appeared at the top of my feed. She was reclining on a hospital bed, her face radiant with health, while Zayn stood beside her, carefully spooning porridge into her mouth.

The caption read:

[Grateful to the most crucial person in my life. No matter what, you'll always be by my side.]

And below, Zayn's reply:

[Silly girl, you're the most vital person in my life too. I'll safeguard you forever.]