Chapter 81
Sienna's pov
Harrison looked down at me with that same mocking expression I knew too well, the one he always wore when he wanted to humiliate me.
“Not scared of me, huh? You were pretty bold just now. Guess I was right.”
His fingers skimmed my skin, sliding and teasing before drifting lower.
I jerked and shouted, “Harrison, stop it. Are you out of your mind?”
I’d miscarried less than ten days ago, and he could still do this—like my pain was nothing.
Harrison’s hand paused. Instead of moving lower, his fingers traced slow circles over my abdomen, deliberate in the cruelest way.
“You deserve this, you delusional fool.” He bent down and bit hard into my shoulder, pain flashing white behind my eyes. His voice stayed calm, every word placed to cut. “Stop dreaming. I don’t love you. I’m not divorcing you because I can’t be bothered with the hassle. Your body is enjoyable, and when you got pregnant, staying together wasn’t the worst thing.”
Then he patted my cheek, like he was doing me a favor.
“But now you’ve gotten what you wanted. For the next month, do what you’re supposed to. After that, whether you live or die is none of my concern.”
The worst part was that his words almost sounded reasonable, and for a split second, my exhausted mind nearly bought it.
How could someone like Harrison force himself to do anything?
I didn’t ask more. He’d never trusted me, and it was too late to start begging for it now. Even if he did love me, what would it change? Five years of dragging each other through hell had left nothing but an ending we both wanted.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I didn’t intentionally miscarry. I fell. I lost the baby by accident.”
I didn’t mention Elena. Not now. I couldn’t take more of his cruelty if he decided to turn it on me again.
“An accidental fall?” he repeated, amused. “Really?”
My anger flared. I should’ve known better than to expect anything decent from him.
“Believe whatever you want.”
Harrison chuckled and walked out of the ward. I didn’t know what he found funny. I only knew that whenever something looked like it was finally ending, he had a way of twisting it into something else.
I stayed in the hospital. Harrison didn’t come back, but he didn’t restrict me either, so when I wasn’t hooked up to an IV, I went to keep Paula company.
I hadn’t seen Julian in days. When I texted him, he only said he had things to take care of.
A thin unease lingered, but I forced it down. Whatever was going on with him wasn’t my business.
Then Victor called.
When my father reached out, it was never for anything good.
I ignored the first call. He kept calling anyway, and messages poured in. I stared at the screen for a moment before opening our chat.
[Sienna, I was wrong. Please—make Mr. Blackwood stop. He’s going to ruin me!]
[I shouldn’t have kicked you out of the Price family. It’s my fault you lost the baby, but I’m still your father. The Price family… the Price family is your mother Nora Everly’s legacy. I’m begging you. Help me. Save the Price family.]
There were countless missed voice calls stacked beneath the messages, like panic made visible.
I’d sworn a long time ago that Victor would pay.
I just hadn’t expected it to start so soon.
The phone rang again. This time, I answered.
“Sienna, you finally picked up.” His voice was hoarse and frantic. “Please, make Mr. Blackwood stop. I’m sorry. I apologize…”
I cut him off, cold and steady. “Why are you begging me? Go to Elena. She’s the one Harrison loves. What am I to him? If I died, he wouldn’t even blink. The Price family should rely on Elena.”
“No,” Victor said quickly. “Elena can’t help with this. You’re the mother of the child. If you talk to Mr. Blackwood, it will work.”
A bitter laugh curled in my chest.
So she hadn’t even tried. Or she had, and it hadn’t mattered.
Who would’ve thought Harrison would get so angry he’d go after the Price family itself?
And if he ever found out Elena had a hand in my miscarriage…
I kept my voice calm. “You’re mistaken. If even Elena can’t help, I certainly can’t. Take care of yourself, and don’t die.”
Dying would be too easy for him.
I hung up.
When I lifted my gaze, I realized someone was standing at the door. It was the nurse who’d been changing my IV and checking my bandages these past few days. She’d chat with me whenever she had time, and she never bothered to hide what she thought of Harrison.
“Ms. Price,” she’d said before, “you’re almost ready to be discharged, and he still hasn’t come to see you. A husband like that—the sooner you divorce him, the better.”
Her name was Eleanor Wolfe. I’d learned she had her own research lab in New Haven and sometimes worked at the hospital to keep close to clinical practice. That was all I needed to know.
Now Eleanor stepped in, her expression careful, like she’d been standing outside weighing her words.
“Ms. Price,” Eleanor said, “there’s something I’ve been hesitant to ask you, because I didn’t want to upset you. Can you tell me what happened the day you miscarried?”
The question hit too fast. I tightened my grip on the blanket. “Why are you asking?”
“I heard you miscarried because your body was too weak to carry the pregnancy,” she said. “But based on your recovery, that doesn’t fit.”
Her tone dragged my mind back to that day—rage, humiliation, the dizzy drop, and then the unbearable pain.
“I met Harrison’s lover that day,” I said. “She made me furious. I fell, and I miscarried. Isn’t that possible?”
Elena was the obvious culprit. She always had been.
“Is that so?” Eleanor frowned. “But I reviewed your medical records.”
My heart jumped. “What are you getting at? Just say it.”
“I looked at your test results,” Eleanor said. “Most people wouldn’t notice, but I suspect you were given an abortion-inducing drug that day.”
My mind went blank. I grabbed her hand without thinking, not even caring that the IV tugged at my skin.
“What? An abortion drug? But I didn’t take anything that day!”
Eleanor tightened her grip, steadying me. “Don’t get upset. I’m not accusing you. I’m saying someone may have drugged you.”
Drugged…
That day, besides water, I’d only had the milk from the café.
I ordered it, and Jess brought it to me.
But she… she couldn’t have.
“Are you sure?” My voice sounded wrong, thin and strained. “Could it have been something the hospital gave me for the procedure?”
Eleanor shook her head, firm. “The hospital would’ve done preliminary checks before giving you any medication—at minimum, a pre-surgery blood draw. I reviewed it. I’m certain.” She paused, then delivered the line that froze me in place. “Even if you hadn’t fallen that day, the baby wouldn’t have survived.”