"Juliana Henson. Slut. Bastard factory."
Darren had gone to pick up food. When he came back, he found me curled up at the foot of the bed, shaking.
Every male patient in the room was eyeing me with lewd, undisguised stares.
"Damn, sweetheart, you really get around, huh? Does the bastard in your belly even know who its daddy is? How about you come keep me company after you're discharged?"
The women and their families spat at me, hurling every degrading name they could think of, telling me to get out.
Darren was livid. He smashed the television, demanded the hospital cut the feed immediately, and had me transferred to a private VIP room.
Even though Kitty played dumb, he tore into her until there was nothing left.
And right in front of me, he blocked her on everything.
This time, it was real.
Kitty had been spoiled by his indulgence for too long. She couldn't accept it. She snapped completely.
The following evening at dusk, she had her people drag me to the rooftop terrace on the fifth floor and forced me to my knees.
One stiletto heel slammed into the side of my head. Blood poured down instantly.