Chapter 1

The summer water fight team-building event was mandatory for all employees.

My supervisor, Victoria Evans, saw me hiding in the corner by myself. She walked over, dragging a bucket filled to the brim with freezing water and ice cubes.

"Jane, everyone is out there bonding and blessing each other. Why are you being such an antisocial loner?"

I held my stomach and leaned against the wall. I was six weeks pregnant. No one knew.

Victoria smiled, lifted the bucket, and dumped the freezing water right over my head.

The sharp ice cubes banged against my scalp. A freezing chill rushed down my spine, bone by bone. A sharp, cramping pain shot through my lower abdomen. I slumped down.

"Oh, come on, stop faking it. You young people are as strong as horses."

My fingernails dug into the cracks of the floor tiles. My knees gave out, and I curled into a ball on the wet floor.

A streak of blood began to seep out from under my skirt, mixing with the water.

Victoria squatted down, her high heels clicking loudly.

"Get up. We need to take a group photo for Instagram. The executives want to see it."

I grabbed her ankle with trembling hands.

She kicked me off with disgust. "Ugh, get your dirty hands off me."

I didn’t look at her.

My shaking right hand reached into my waterproof phone pouch and dialed a number.

A deep, commanding voice answered almost instantly. "Jane?"

"Ethan... your baby... is almost gone."

***

"Send me your location."

Ethan’s voice cut through the receiver, cold and urgent.

My hands were shaking violently. The numbers on my screen blurred together, and blood kept dripping onto the tiles.

Before I knew it, Chloe Watson, a junior colleague, rushed over. Her face was deathly pale. She snatched the phone from my hand and pinned my location to Ethan.

"I already called 911," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Jane, don't move. Don't move at all."

The sharp click of Victoria’s high heels approached from a few yards away.

"Why are you two still on the ground? Everyone is waiting for the group photo. What is wrong with you guys?"

Chloe stood up, shielding me. "Ms. Evans, she’s bleeding. We need an ambulance."

The air went dead quiet for two seconds, though the upbeat party music was still blasting from the speakers.

"Bleeding? What do you mean bleeding?" Victoria chuckled, her voice dripping with dismissive contempt. "It’s a water fight. Everyone is soaked. Don't be so dramatic."

"It’s... from between her legs," Chloe muttered, barely audible.

The clicking of the heels stopped.

I didn't look up. I squeezed my lower abdomen with both hands, my nails piercing my palms. The sharp cramps had turned into waves of dull, heavy pain, like something was slipping away from me.

Victoria’s voice drifted down from above, significantly quieter now. "She’s always had a weak constitution, hasn't she? This has nothing to do with today's activity."

No one answered her.

When the ambulance arrived, two paramedics in navy uniforms rushed in with a stretcher.

"When was your last period? Any allergies? How much blood have you lost?"

I opened my mouth, but my tongue felt like lead.

Chloe answered for me. "She’s pregnant. About six weeks."

As I was lifted onto the stretcher, I turned my head and saw Victoria standing fifteen feet away. She was on her phone, her back to me, but her voice carried clearly.

"Mr. Davis, yes, the team-building event went great! Everyone loved it. Oh, one employee felt a bit under the weather and left early. It had absolutely nothing to do with the event, she just has a very weak immune system... Yes, I already posted the photos on our Snapchat group."

In the short lift from the wet floor to the stretcher, I heard her completely rewrite the narrative to protect herself.

Inside the ambulance, the paramedic wiped the blood off the back of my hands. It wasn't from my abdomen—it was from my own fingernails digging into my skin.

My phone buzzed.

Ethan: [Twelve minutes.]

No question marks. No extra words.

When we arrived at the ER, I was wheeled straight into the emergency room under blinding, white lights. People were preping IVs, others were calling for an ultrasound tech.

The pain had settled into a rhythm, syncing with my heartbeat. With every throb, my pelvis felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist.

I stared at the ceiling, counting the fluorescent lights. Four.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Heavy leather shoes pounded against the hallway tiles. It was entirely different from Victoria’s heels—these steps didn't just walk; they crushed.

"Where is Jane Miller's primary physician?"

A nurse tried to stop him.

But he didn't slow down.

The door burst open. I was lying on my side for the ultrasound, the cold gel smeared across my stomach.

Ethan stood at the doorway. His suit jacket was gone, and his white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

He looked at me once.

Then he turned to the ultrasound technician.

"Is the baby still there?"

The tech paused for a moment. "It’s a threatened miscarriage. There is still a heartbeat, but it’s very weak. She needs absolute bed rest. The next forty-eight hours are critical."

Ethan walked over and took my hand. His palm was warm, but his fingertips were ice-cold.

I opened my mouth to speak.

"Don't," he whispered, pressing his hand against mine. His grip was gentler than it had ever been.

The phone in his pocket buzzed repeatedly. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and threw it face-down on the bedside chair.

After a moment, he picked up my phone and unlocked it.

A new notification had popped up in the company-wide Snapchat group.

It was from Victoria. She had posted a college of nine photos.

[So proud of our amazing team! Thanks to everyone who participated in our Wet & Wild Summer Retreat! Teamwork makes the dream work! 👍]

In the bottom right corner of the third picture, there was a small patch of floor tiles.

The color of those tiles was darker than the rest.

That was my blood.

Ethan stared at the picture for a long, quiet moment.

He put down my phone.

Then, he took out his own phone and made a call.

"Get me every single frame of the security footage from the retreat venue. Raw files. Within three hours. Do not miss a single second."

He hung up and immediately dialed another number.

"Arthur? It's Ethan Vance. This is personal. I need you to investigate someone—Victoria Evans, Marketing Supervisor at our Jinlan Branch. Pull up every single financial transaction, HR complaint, and email she has touched in the last three years."

He ended the call and turned to look at me.

His eyes were pitch black, completely devoid of warmth.

"Is this how she has been treating you at that office?"

***