Chapter 2: The Reckoning

That night, the man pinned me down, demanding again and again, “Tell me, who exactly is dead?”

I tried to twist away, but his grip was iron. His voice was raw—not just angry, but hurt. I realized then: he wasn’t just furious. He was afraid. My hands trembled as I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. Shadows danced across the walls, flickering in the streetlights outside.

“I was wrong. It’s me. I’m about to die…”

The words fell out of me, half sob, half laugh. In that moment, I felt exposed—utterly, irreversibly human. The silence between us was louder than any scream.

I stared at the test report in my hand, stunned and unable to react for a long time.

The printout trembled in my grip, the fluorescent hospital lights buzzing overhead. The city outside felt impossibly far away.

I asked the doctor, “Am I really pregnant?”

I clutched my purse so hard my knuckles went white, waiting for the world to tilt. My voice sounded tiny, almost like someone else’s.

“Yes, you’re two months along.”

The doctor’s voice was kind but matter-of-fact, as if this were nothing more than a routine checkup. Her hands moved quickly, already on to the next file.

Two months…

It must have been that time in the car.

The memory crashed into me: the taste of rain on my lips, the nervous click of my heels on the pavement, the way my hair stuck to my cheeks. I’d tried to keep my head down, but fate had other plans.

That day, it was raining and I hadn’t brought an umbrella. A male coworker from the office kindly offered me a ride home.

We’d talked about nothing—traffic, the Cubs, how spring in Chicago always feels like a cruel joke. He left me at my building, and I’d thanked him, clutching my bag tight.

Just as I got out of the car, I ran into Derek Callahan, who had just come back from a business trip.

His suit was still crisp, hair damp from the drizzle. He stood beneath the awning, phone pressed to his ear, eyes flicking over me with something like suspicion.

He rarely smiled, always giving off a cold, distant vibe. That night, his expression was even darker than usual—truly intimidating.

He looked like thunder bottled up in a man, all sharp lines and unspoken anger. Even the valet seemed to shrink away.

He dragged me into his car and kissed me hard, right in front of my coworker.

It happened so fast, I barely had time to gasp. The windows fogged up, and the city’s neon lights blurred in the rain. My coworker stared, wide-eyed, then quickly drove off, as if embarrassed to witness something that wasn’t meant for outsiders.

“Natalie, I’m not even cold yet and you’re already moving on?”

His voice was a growl, low and rough. I felt my face flush with shame and frustration.

“What, am I not enough for you?”

His accusation cut deeper than I expected. I could barely meet his eyes. My stomach churned with nerves and something dangerously close to excitement.

My face burned. I quickly covered his mouth. “Stop talking.”

I glanced around, terrified that someone might recognize us, that our secret would spill out onto the wet sidewalk. His lips were warm beneath my palm.

But his gaze landed on my rain-soaked shirt, his eyes growing even darker.

I shivered, the chill of the air conditioning nothing compared to the heat in his stare. Every inch of me felt exposed.

That night, he tormented me until midnight.

He didn’t care that my hands were cold, that my hair was still damp. When he was done, I felt wrung out—lost in a haze of pleasure and humiliation. The city’s sirens drifted up from the street, distant and unfeeling.

When I finally got out of the car, my legs were weak. In the end, he carried me upstairs.

He didn’t say a word as he lifted me—just scooped me up like I weighed nothing and took the stairs two at a time. In the hallway, a neighbor peeked out, then quickly closed her door. I buried my face in Derek’s shoulder, wishing I could disappear.

For the past three years, I’d always known my place. The position of Mrs. Callahan was never meant for me—I never even dared to hope for it.

I knew my role: always in the shadows, never in the light. I kept my head down, kept my secrets to myself. In Chicago, people like me didn’t become people like him. That’s just how it was.

But even though I was so careful, I still fell into this trap.

No matter how many lines I drew in the sand, they always blurred when he touched me. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get in too deep, but here I was, standing at the edge of something I couldn’t control.