Chapter 11
“Leave.” Clinton’s voice was steel, cold and final as the word sliced through the heavy silence o the room. His hand pointed at the door like a judge delivering a death sentence. “Now.” Alynna blinked at him, her perfectly painted lips trembling. “What the hell? You can’t just throw me out!” She gave a small, panicked laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Clinton. Your child-our heir-”
Clinton’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of pity there one second, gone the next. “I don’t care.”
She gaped at him. “You can’t mean that. This is your child! You always said-”
“I don’t want you,” Clinton bit out, his jaw tight with disgust that tasted too much like regret. ” don’t want this. None of it.”
Alynna’s voice cracked, shrill and desperate. “You’re saying you want me to get rid of it? Afte everything?”
He shrugged, the motion cruel in its carelessness. “Do what you want. Abort it, keep it, I don’t care. It’s your problem now.”
She lunged at him then, grabbing the sleeves, of his shirt, nails biting into the fabric. “Don’t say that! You promised-Clinton, you said once she was gone, we’d be together. We’d be happy.”
‘Happy?” Clinton let out a broken laugh that sounded like a threat. “You think this is happiness? You think I didn’t see what you really are? You and Leo-using me, using her. And I let you. I le you because I thought you’d fill the space she left behind. But you didn’t. You can’t.”
Alynna’s eyes filled with tears that did nothing to soften the venom in her words. “You bastard You still love her, don’t you?”
His silence was answer enough.
‘No!” Alynna screeched. “No, no, you don’t get to do this to me! I did this for us. I gave you an neir! You owe me-”
Before she could finish, Clinton gripped her arms, shoving her back so hard she stumbled against the doorframe. “I don’t owe you anything.”
Outside, the thunder rumbled like the sky itself was laughing at her. Rain began to splatter against the windows, heavy and cold.
You’re not serious,” Alynna hissed. “You won’t throw me out. Not now. Not like this.”
But Clinton was already opening the door, his face a mask of rage and exhaustion. “Get out. Don’t make me drag you.”
–
When she didn’t move, he did just that grabbed her wrist, ignoring her nails scratching at his orearm, the way she clawed at the doorframe like it might save her. He dragged her into the hallway, then through the foyer, the storm’s wind blowing rain onto the polished floors.
‘Clinton! Please-” Her scream was raw now, no sweetness left. “Don’t do this. What about the baby-your family-”
He shoved her onto the steps outside, the downpour drenching her silk robe in seconds. His voice was low, dead in his throat. “I don’t care.”
Alynna slipped, her knees hitting the cold marble with a dull crack. She could only watch as the
4:26 pm
door slammed shut, sealing her out of the warm lie she’d wrapped herself in for years.
–
She stayed there, soaking wet, shivering, gasping between sobs as the rain plastered her hair to of the nights she’d smiled in that same doorway, oblivious to her face. She thought of Chloe the betrayal. Of all the times Alynna had laughed behind her back, whispered poison in Clinton’s
ear.
And now look at you, a voice hissed in her head. Drenched. Unwanted. Alone.
“No,” she breathed, shaking her head as thunder cracked above. “No, I won’t let this be it. I won She left. He was mine. She doesn’t get to come back. She doesn’t-”
But the wind swallowed her defiance. All that remained was the bitter taste of what she’d done – and what she’d lost.
Inside, Clinton poured himself a glass of whiskey he barely tasted. His phone lay on the table screen cracked from where he’d thrown it days ago. He tried the police again, voice clipped and ragged.
‘She’s my wife-” he started, but the officer on the other end cut him off.
‘Mr. Moore, you’ve already been told. She filed for divorce. It’s final. You’re no longer her lega spouse – you have no right to her whereabouts. If she wants to disappear, that’s her choice.” ‘But I need to-” His throat closed around the word find, and he swallowed it with another mouthful of whiskey.
‘Sir. She’s not yours to find.”
The line went dead. Clinton stared at his reflection in the dark window, the rain sliding down the glass like tears he wouldn’t shed.
He didn’t know when the bottle emptied. He didn’t remember how he ended up sprawled across the couch, eyes burning, Chloe’s name stuck in his throat like an apology he’d never get to give. Alynna stood on her father’s doorstep, mascara streaked down her cheeks, the rainwater dripping onto the marble floors of the Moore estate once again – only this time, it wasn’t Chloe’s ghost that haunted these halls. It was hers.
Leo looked up from his desk, brows knitting in annoyance. “Where’s Chloe? Did you find her?” Alynna’s laugh was bitter, cracked. “If I did, would I be here, begging you?”
He scowled, slamming his palm onto the table. “Then why are you here? You ruined everything. I told you to fix it.”
She sank to her knees, the marble cold beneath her bruised skin. “Father… he threw me out. He said he doesn’t want me anymore. He told me to get rid of the baby-”
“Then why are you here?” Leo snapped again. “Fix it. Make him want you back. Or bring Chloe back she’s the only one who can patch this mess you made.”
–
Alynna’s fists clenched around the hem of her soaked dress. “I hate her. I hate her so much. Everything’s ruined because of her.”
“Then do something about it,” Leo sneered. “Do whatever it takes to make this family whole again.”
Alynna’s eyes flickered with something dark – a promise she made to herself right then and there, as she tasted blood and rain on her lips.
