Chapter 9 

After dropping Renee off, Finley tried to leave, but she latched onto his arm. “You’re leaving me alone again? Finley, you know I hate being by myself.” 

“Call your manager or someone else,” Finley replied. “I need to get back. It’s Claire’s birthday, and I promised her I’d spend it with her.” 

His eyes flicked to his watch. It was late, and he wasn’t sure if Claire was even home. Thinking back to how she’d acted earlier, a knot formed in his stomach. 

Pregnant women were more sensitive, he reminded himself, more emotional. But when the fire alarm had gone off, he hadn’t thought about her–or the baby. That guilt weighed heavy on him. 

Renee pouted. “Fine, but you’d better spend tomorrow with me.” 

“We’ll see.” 

When he got home, he opened the door to a dark, silent living room. No Claire. 

On nights when he came home late, she used to wait for him there, knitting tiny clothes for 

the baby. 

But tonight, there was nothing. Just emptiness. 

“Claire?” Finley called, his voice uncertain. No response. 

His eyes fell on the wall where Claire used to hang baby–themed pictures. They were gone. 

“Emma!” he barked, anger bubbling up. 

Emma rushed in. “Mr. Lloyd, you’re back.” 

“Where are the pictures that were on this wall? What happened to them?” 

“Mrs. Lloyd tore them down,” Emma said cautiously. “She did it a few days ago.” 

1/3 

Chapter P 

A few days ago. He hadn’t even noticed. 

“Really?” Finley frowned, the realization hitting hard. “Where’s Claire?” 

“She’s gone.” 

+15 Bonus 

He froze, as if Emma’s words didn’t register. “Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where?” 

“I don’t know. She said she was going away for a few days.” 

His expression darkened. “She’s running off when her prenatal checkup is tomorrow? 

That’s so childish! I thought she wasn’t mad at me anymore.” 

8 

Without waiting for a response, he stormed upstairs, showered, and went to bed. 

By morning, he looked rough–like sleep had been a distant dream. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Is Claire back yet?” 

She’d been on his mind all night, her absence clawing at him. 

“No, Mr. Lloyd,” Emma said, handing him a small metal box. “Before she left, Mrs. Lloyd asked me to give this to you.” 

“What is it?” Finley opened the box impatiently. “She knows today’s the prenatal checkup. 

She acts like it doesn’t even matter. When I couldn’t go before, she was mad, and now that I’m free, she’s just being dramatic—” 

Inside the box was an ultrasound image. 

Their baby. Small, barely formed, but undeniably real. 

He flipped through the contents: prenatal records, ultrasound images, and then–a medical report. 

His eyes skimmed the word “miscarriage.” 

His face drained of color. His hands shook. “Miscarriage?” he muttered. “No. No, that’s… that’s not possible.” 

2/3 

+15 Bonus 

He flipped frantically through the pages. The date stopped him cold. 

Their third anniversary. 

His mind flashed back to that day–Renee taking a phone call as he walked away. 

It hit him like a punch. It was real. Their baby was gone. 

‘Why? Why isn’t the baby here anymore?‘ 

He grabbed Emma’s arm, desperate. “Did you know? Did you know Claire lost the baby?” 

Her eyes widened. “What? No wonder she didn’t come home for three days. No wonder she made us take down the pictures. I didn’t realize it was because of this.” 

“Three days? She wasn’t home for three days and no one told me?” 

“You were at the hospital. We couldn’t reach you. Mrs. Lloyd was there too. Didn’t you see her?” 

His pupils shrank. “I… I did.” 

The memory slammed into him–Claire, pale and hollow–eyed, walking toward him at the hospital. He’d thought she was there to start trouble with Renee. 

But it wasn’t about Renee. It was about the baby. 

Three days. She’d spent three days in the hospital. Alone. 

How did she survive it? 

Emma hesitated. “I know it’s not my place, but… you’ve been so cold to her. She was pregnant. She deserved better. She deserved to be cherished. But you kept leaving her for 

Miss Slutsky. Honestly, it’s cruel.”