VANESSA

The cramps came in slow, mean waves, like tiny claws scraping from the inside. I pressed my palm against my stomach, breathing through the sharp pinch until it eased. The doctor’s voice echoed in my head.

Bed rest, no stress, any shock could end your pregnancy.

As if I could rest. Not with Lyra parading her victory across every headline.

I scrolled through the latest articles, the glow of my phone lighting the dark bedroom. Photos of Jason standing behind Lyra in court, his face tight with frustration, filled the screen. Reporters had called Lyra brilliant. Untouchable.

My jaw ached from clenching. Jason had promised me everything once the...