I never told my husband’s family that I am the Chief Justice’s daughter. When I was seven months pregnant, they f0rced me to prepare the entire Christmas dinner by myself. My mother-in-law even ordered me to eat standing in the kitchen, insisting it was “healthy for the baby.” When I tried to sit down, she pushed me so vi/0len/tly that I started to mis/carry. I reached for my phone to call the police, but my husband ripped it from my hand and sneered, “I’m a lawyer. You’ll never win.” I met his gaze and replied calmly, “Then call my father.” He laughed while dialing, unaware his legal career was seconds from collapse.

My rubber-soled shoes lost all traction on the freshly waxed tile. Gravity seized me. The world tilted violently upward, and my body slammed backward against the sharp, unyielding edge of the marble island.

The initial impact sent a sickening, electric shock directly through my spinal column. But what followed was an explosion of white, blinding heat that wiped the kitchen from my vision entirely.

I was falling, but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t do anything but wait for the floor to rise up and break me.

Chapter 2: The Color of Silence

My skull connected with the ceramic tile with a hollow, sickening crack that echoed over the gentle hum of the refrigerator.

For several agonizing seconds, my brain could not process anything beyond the blinding ring of tinnitus and the catastrophic, crushing agony radiating from my shattered lower back. I lay there, blinking up at the recessed lighting, trying to remember how to pull air into my lungs.

And then, I felt it.

A sudden, massive gush of unnatural warmth spread rapidly beneath me, soaking violently through the thick fabric of my maternity dress. It was a heavy, metallic flood, entirely unstoppable, pooling against the cold tile. Utter, primal terror seized my throat.

Footsteps rushed into the kitchen. Aaron appeared in my inverted field of vision, with Paul lingering nervously in the doorway behind him.