I gasped, dropping the bottle. It didn’t break, but it thudded heavily onto the table. I clutched the edge of the sidebar, my knuckles turning white.
Water pooled on the expensive Persian rug beneath me.
“Ethan,” I gasped, the room spinning. “It’s time.”
The room went silent. Ethan looked at the rug. Then he looked at me. There was no panic in his eyes. No excitement. Only pure, unadulterated annoyance.
“Now?” he groaned, throwing his napkin on the table. “Are you serious? Isabella was just about to tell us about her yacht in Monaco.”
Part 2: The Abandonment
The pain came in waves, a relentless tide trying to pull me under. I gripped the doorframe, breathing through my nose.
“I need to go to the hospital,” I said. “My water broke.”
Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Isabella, who was pouting, her lower lip trembling in a performance of disappointment.
“I can’t leave the party, Clara. It’s rude,” Ethan said, checking his Rolex. “We haven’t even had dessert. Isabella ordered a custom cake.”
“Ethan,” I said, my voice rising. “I am in labor. With your children.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he waved a hand dismissively. “It takes hours. You know how you get—hysterical over a papercut. Just take a cab. Women give birth every day in fields; I’m sure you can manage a luxury Uber ride.”
He turned back to Isabella, squeezing her hand. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going anywhere. We’re celebrating us tonight.”
Isabella smiled, a predatory expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re so dedicated, Ethan. I love a man who prioritizes his guests.”
“Call me when they’re out,” Ethan threw over his shoulder as he poured more wine.
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