Not at me.
“Claire,” he groaned, irritated, “why do you always create drama?”
“I’m losing the baby!” I cried. “Call 911!”
“No,” he snapped immediately.
He grabbed my phone and smashed it against the wall.
“No ambulance. The neighbors will talk. I just made partner at the firm. I don’t need police showing up at my house.”
My heart sank.
I realized in that moment that he cared more about his reputation than our child.
I reached for him desperately.
“Please… Thomas…”
Instead, he crouched down and grabbed my hair, forcing my head back.
“Listen carefully,” he whispered. “I’m a lawyer. I know every judge in this county. If you accuse me of anything, I’ll have you declared mentally unstable.”
He smirked.
“You’re an orphan, remember? Who would believe you?”
Something inside me changed.
The pain was still there, but the fear disappeared.
I looked straight into his eyes.
“You’re right,” I said calmly. “You know the law.”
He smiled arrogantly.
“But you don’t know who wrote it.”
He frowned.
“What does that even mean?”
“Give me your phone,” I said.
“Why?”
“Call my father.”
Thomas burst out laughing.
“Your father?” he mocked. “The retired clerk from Florida?”
“Just call him,” I replied quietly. “Put it on speaker.”