Tainted Love

Chapter 28

The rain came hard and fast, a wild percussion against the windshield as Victor pulled the car into the driveway. Fat drops splattered against the roof, sliding down in restless streams as the headlights cut through the blur of water. When the car stopped, both he and Vivian stepped out, and the night immediately swallowed them.

Victor slammed his door shut with a sigh that sounded like impatience. The cold wind rushed in, brushing against his designer suit and dampening his sleeves. He glanced down at his gold watch …droplets already glistening on the polished surface …and clicked his tongue. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, clutching the lapels of his coat as he hurried toward the house.

Vivian followed behind, one hand instinctively pressed to her stomach. Every step she took was careful ….painfully slow …as though each movement had to be negotiated between fear and necessity. The rain pelted her hair and ran down her face, cold and heavy, but she didn’t care. What she cared about was each step, each breath, each moment that kept her and the tiny life inside her safe.

The doctor’s words echoed over and over in her mind: You have to be careful, Vivian. Both you and your baby are at risk. Any stress, any sudden movement, could be dangerous.

So she was careful …maybe too careful for Victor’s liking.

He had already reached the veranda when he turned back, frustration written all over his face. “Vivian, are you really going to walk that slow?” he barked over the sound of the rain. “You’re moving like a tortoise!”

She paused, drenched and trembling. “Victor… I have to be careful,” she said softly.

“Careful?” He scoffed. “It’s just rain, Vivian. You’re not made of glass. Come on, move!”

Her lips quivered, but she said nothing. She lowered her eyes and continued her slow, deliberate walk. Each step seemed to test his patience, and she could feel his anger simmering from afar. If he could, she knew he’d grab her arm and pull her forward, but instead, he just groaned and paced where he stood.

By the time she reached the entrance, her hair clung to her face and her dress was soaked through. Victor pushed the door open quickly, holding it just long enough for her to step inside.

The warmth of the living room hit her like a soft wave. The faint scent of rain mixed with the polished wood and the perfume of the house …clean, quiet, safe. But Victor was already moving, tossing his soaked jacket over the armchair and running his fingers through his hair in irritation.

“You know,” he said, his voice sharp, “you could’ve made this easier. I’m not spending another night waiting in the rain because you want to play careful.”

Vivian said nothing. She simply walked forward, her fingers pressed to her belly, her eyes fixed on the stairs. She knew if she spoke, her voice would break …and she couldn’t afford that.

He sighed again, pulling out his phone, his annoyance already softening as he began scrolling. Within seconds, he was smiling faintly at the screen, the light reflecting off his face. Whatever frustration he had moments ago was now replaced by quiet amusement as he typed and chuckled to himself.

Vivian turned away. Her body was tired, her heart even more so.

“I’ll go shower first,” she said gently. “I’ve been in the rain too long. It might affect me.”

“Sure,” Victor said, not looking up. “But don’t take forever this time.”

She nodded faintly and disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of running water soon filled the room, steady and rhythmic. Vivian stood beneath the shower, eyes closed, letting the warmth sink into her bones. She breathed deeply, as if she could wash away the unease that had wrapped itself around her for days.

When she finally stepped out, nearly an hour had passed. She dressed slowly, then returned to the room. Victor was still lying on the bed, phone in hand, his laughter light and easy.

“Baby, you took forever,” he said, glancing at her with a grin. “I know my wife loves her long showers.”

Vivian forced a small smile and nodded. “It was cold,” she whispered.

She moved past him toward the wardrobe, feeling the uneasiness creep back into her chest. Something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t name it, couldn’t explain it …only that her heart was beating too fast, and her hands wouldn’t stay still.

Victor stretched, tossing his phone aside. “My turn,” he said cheerfully and headed into the bathroom.

The moment he closed the door, the sound of water returned …steady, distant, and strangely unnerving. Vivian stood still in the middle of the room, her heart pounding in rhythm with it. The air around her felt heavy, pressing down on her shoulders.

Her mind started racing. She told herself everything was fine. He was her husband. He loved her. He would never hurt her.

So why did fear feel so real tonight?

She pressed a trembling hand to her stomach. Her breath came out in uneven bursts. Then, quietly, she walked toward the wardrobe. She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it gently behind her. The darkness embraced her. She leaned against the wall, her heartbeat echoing in the small space, her fingers curling against her chest.

She didn’t understand why she was hiding …only that it felt safer there.

⸻

Meanwhile, far from the city, deep in a quiet village surrounded by dense forest and mud paths, two women ran through the darkness. The night was cold, their breaths harsh, their feet splashing through puddles as they fled.

The older woman led the way, her long robe dragging behind her, soaked from the rain that had passed hours ago. Beside her ran a younger woman, dressed in a maid servant outfit, her hair clinging to her face, her eyes wide with exhaustion and fear.

They looked like fugitives …desperate, hunted, and barely holding on.

“Faster,” the older woman urged, her voice hoarse. “We’re close.”

The younger one stumbled. “I…I can’t,” she gasped. Her body was weak, trembling from cold and hunger. She fell to her knees, the rough ground scraping her palms.

The older woman turned back quickly, pulling her up. “You have to,” she said. “We can’t stop now. We’re too close.”

The girl nodded, biting her lip, and forced herself to stand. Together they kept running through the shadows of trees and broken fences, their silhouettes moving like ghosts under the moonlight.

Finally, they reached a small, abandoned house — its walls cracked, its door half-broken. They stumbled inside, gasping for breath. The place smelled of dust and rot, but it was shelter.

The younger woman collapsed onto the floor, tears mixing with dirt on her face. The older one crouched beside her, holding her trembling hands.

“We’re safe… for now,” she whispered.

But they both knew that safety was fragile.

⸻

In the grand halls of the Dary Empire, far from that small forgotten village, Emilia’s world was beginning to crumble.

She had just received a call.

Her phone slipped from her hand, crashing onto the marble floor. Her eyes went wide, her breath caught in her throat. The color drained from her face as the words echoed in her ears.

“She’s escaped.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Her heart pounded like thunder. For a second, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Then … panic.

She bent down to pick up the phone, but the screen was shattered. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no!”

If the woman had escaped… everything she had built, everything she had fought for, could collapse.

Her empire. Her image. Her control.

All of it …gone.

She shot to her feet, her mind spinning.

Immediately got to her car and the four hour journey turned into just one and a half hour.

“Where is she?!” she shouted, her voice sharp enough to slice through the stillness.

The guards hesitated. “My Lady, we…we’re searching…”

“Searching?” Her eyes blazed. “You let her escape!”

She slapped the nearest guard across the face. The sound echoed through the room.

“How dare you stand there and tell me you’re searching?!” she screamed. “If she’s gone, everything is finished! Do you hear me? Everything!”

The guards trembled, heads bowed.

Emilia turned toward the window, her fists clenched. “Find her,” she hissed. “Search every corner, every street, every house. I want her found — now. There will be no privacy for anyone in that village until she’s brought back.”

“Yes, My Lady!” they chorused, rushing out in fear.

Emilia stood there, trembling with fury and dread. She looked down at the broken phone, the pieces glinting against the floor. Her reflection stared back at her from the shattered glass …a reflection of power, rage, and the terror of losing everything she’d built.

The storm inside her had only just begun.