Reclaiming Her Heart

Upon terminating the call, he found himself transfixed by the mound of paperwork that lay before him, his gaze unable to settle on a single word. The mere thought of another man sharing her company that evening was a notion he found unbearable.

Retreating to the sanctuary of his hotel room, he lay sprawled across the bed, the lingering scent of her perfume still permeating the sheets. It was an aroma that seemed to envelop him, seeping into his very pores.

Raymond found sleep elusive. Rising from the bed, he donned his pajamas and positioned himself before the towering floor-to-ceiling window, a cigarette clutched between his fingers. The balcony door that was left ajar allowed a gentle breeze to drift in, lightly tousling his hair.

The cigarette, held delicately between his fingertips, seemed to carry her scent on the wind. Memories of her, frightened yet dependent, pinned against this very window, were maddeningly tantalizing. Raymond's gaze hardened, his light grip on the cigarette morphing into a fierce gnawing. It was as if only through this drastic action could he suppress the turbulent emotions welling within him.

Reaching for his phone, he fired off a message to Selena.

Raymond: [Are you asleep?]

Those acquainted with Raymond knew he was a man who shied away from social media, and coaxing him to 'like' a post was a feat in itself. His late-night conversations were few and far between, especially with a woman. Selena was the first. Receiving no response, Raymond sent another message.

Raymond: [What are you doing with your husband?]

Selena, having drifted back into slumber, was rudely awakened by a nightmarish vision. This time, it wasn't Barbara who haunted her dreams, but a child cruelly ripped from her grasp, its tiny, perfectly formed hand discarded in a hospital trash

can.

Awakening in a cold sweat, she stared blankly at the ceiling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had researched painless abortion methods and knew they were only viable in the earliest stages of pregnancy, before the embryo had fully formed. The nightmare was a manifestation of the immense pressure she felt, forced to consider an abortion against her will.

She was well aware of the Montague family's disdain for her, but she had never fathomed the depths to which her dignity could be trampled. It was a humiliation she would carry with her always.

Though she harbored no love for Raymond, she was beginning to feel the sting of the pain he brought with him - a pain that felt like a nail being driven deep into her bones.

Upon seeing his message, she chose not to respond. Instead, she rose to pour herself a glass of water, pushing down the discomfort that welled within her. She returned to her room but found sleep elusive. To occupy her mind, she began reviewing the progress of a project in Manhattan, later turning her attention to some documents from the Fair family.

Raymond, met with silence, was left with nothing but irritation.

As dawn broke, Selena completed her work. After breakfast, she checked the surveillance cameras she had installed at her Rose Garden residence. Since that fateful night, they had functioned without issue, indicating that her room had remained undisturbed. Needing her painting supplies, she decided to make a trip to Rose Garden.

It was seven in the morning, and the streets were still relatively empty. She had just sent a message to the property management to inquire about a matter when her car was violently rear-ended. The impact sent her head crashing into the steering wheel, her vision swimming.

In the ensuing chaos, she spotted a tall man brandishing a baseball bat advancing towards her.

"Crash!"

The car window shattered.

In the blink of an eye, she was yanked from her vehicle, her hand pinned beneath a heavy boot. Her eyes widened in terror as the man raised the baseball bat high above his head.

The thought of her painting hand being damaged was unbearable. "Stop, please!" she cried out. But her plea fell on deaf ears as the baseball bat came crashing down, the full force of a grown man behind it. The sound of her bones shattering under the blow echoed in her ears.

The world around her began to fade as waves of pain radiated from her mangled fingers, threatening to pull her into unconsciousness.

Her phone buzzed with a call from the property management. Fearing discovery, the man hastily retreated.

The entire ordeal had lasted no more than three minutes.

The pain was so intense that Selena found herself unable to grasp her phone. Her body trembled as she struggled to answer the call with her uninjured hand.

Sweat dripped from her forehead as she collapsed to the ground, her two mangled fingers twisted at unnatural angles, the sight alone enough to send fresh waves of pain coursing through her.