Harbor of Heartbreak

Chapter 2

In the study, I was tied to a chair.

Alexander stood nearby, watching coldly as someone shoved a needle as thick as a child's arm into my vein.

Through the half-open door, I overheard the doctor whisper nervously,

"Mr. Crawford, both your wife and Miss Reed have the rare RH negative blood type, but your wife has a history of heart problems. Forced blood extraction could easily trigger acute shock. I think the better option would be to take Miss Reed to a hospital for a proper transfusion..."

Alexander cut him off without even blinking.

"You don't need to worry about that. Your only job is to make sure Natalie recovers. I'll handle the rest."

I heard his footsteps approaching. My eyes fluttered shut.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, almost like he cared. "Hang in there. It'll be over soon."

I turned my head away. I didn't answer.

They drew 800ml of blood. My lips had already turned a frightening shade of purple.

Just then, Natalie, resting comfortably in the master bedroom, let out a small cough.

At the sound of it, Alexander suddenly stopped the doctor from removing the needle.

"Double the amount," he ordered.

The doctor froze. "Mr. Crawford, if we take any more, she could go into shock. She might not survive this."

Alexander hesitated for a moment. Then he said, "Natalie is pregnant. She comes first."

The doctor opened his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it.

"Just do it," I said, my voice hoarse. "And once it's done… let me go."

Alexander's jaw tightened as he stared at my pale, bloodless face. His anger simmered beneath the surface.

He was about to say something, probably accuse me of throwing a tantrum again, of threatening to leave over "something this small."

But before the words came, Natalie's soft, sugary voice echoed down the hall.

"Alex, baby~"

And just like that, he walked away.

Two days later, I woke up in a hospital bed, disoriented and freezing.

Alexander sat beside me, flipping through documents like nothing had happened.

When our eyes met, he didn't say a word, just reached for a bowl of porridge and brought it to my lips.

"I can feed myself," I said flatly.

He didn't argue. Just watched as I forced down half the bowl in silence.

Then he asked, "Anywhere still hurting?"

I didn't answer directly. "Can I have my phone?"

He paused, clearly thrown off by my distant tone. After a few beats, he called the butler to bring it to me.

When I turned it on, a flood of missed calls popped up.

"Who's been calling you?" he asked sharply, frowning.

He'd never cared before.

I didn't even look at him. "Someone you don't know."

His expression darkened. Unbuttoning the top of his shirt, he looked down at me with cold irritation.

"How long are you going to play this spoiled little princess act?"

"You really think you can throw a fit and bend me to your will?"

Before, when Alexander was like this, I'd back down. Apologize. Do whatever I could to smooth things over.

But this time, I just looked at his buzzing phone and said,

"Natalie's calling."

His eyes flickered. A faint smile touched his lips. Without another word, he stepped into the hallway to take her call.

A second after the door closed, my phone lit up.

"Claire? You were supposed to meet me. Did you change your mind?" the voice on the other end asked anxiously.

"No. I didn't," I said quietly. "Something came up."

"What happened? Are you okay? I'm coming back to the States, "

"No," I cut him off gently. "Just give me a few more days."

I ended the call right as Alexander returned.

He looked at me, at the soft smile still lingering on my lips, a smile he hadn't seen in a long time, and something in his chest twisted.

But Natalie was waiting. He'd promised her a lullaby. A sweet bedtime moment for her and the baby.

So instead of asking who I'd just been talking to, he assumed it was probably a cousin. After all, ever since marrying him, my world had shrunk down to just a few distant relatives and a silent house.

He grabbed his briefcase and turned to go.

"Something came up at work. I'll stop by tomorrow."

But tomorrow didn't come.

Neither did the next day. Or the one after that.

Meanwhile, videos of him and Natalie kept flooding in, courtesy of mutual friends.

He took her to parties, dinners, galas.

Introduced her around like a smitten teenager showing off his first love.

On the day I was discharged, Alexander posted a nine-photo grid on social media.

In the last one, they stood in a glowing hot air balloon, bathed in golden sunset, kissing like nothing else existed.

I left a comment beneath it:

[Wishing you both a lifetime of love and a healthy baby.]

Ten minutes later, he called me.

I didn't answer.

Half an hour later, as I finalized my discharge papers alone, I saw them together at the obstetrics department.

Natalie leaned into his side, all soft smiles and glowing cheeks. A young nurse at the front desk beamed at her.

"Mrs. Crawford, your husband is so sweet. He comes with you every single time. He even warms up the ultrasound gel himself so it doesn't feel cold on your belly."

The other pregnant women nearby looked on, wide-eyed and envious.

I lowered my gaze and unconsciously placed a hand on my abdomen.

There had been a child there, once, too.