THE CHAIN REMEMBERS
1240 Words
EMILY'S POV
I collapse onto my bed the moment I get home, my body aching from the weight of the day. Every muscle screams. Every bone feels like it's been through a war.
But I can't sleep. My mind races with everything that happened. Tristan's threat. The accounts manager's promise. The hostile faces of my new coworkers. The cold eyes of Derek Molson.
And the baby growing inside me. Derek's baby.
I sit up slowly, reaching for my bag. I need to check my phone. Maybe William texted. Maybe my mother called. Maybe there's some small piece of normalcy I can cling to before the darkness swallows me whole.
My fingers brush against something cold and metallic at the bottom of my bag. I freeze.
"What the—"
I pull it out slowly, my heart pounding. The gold chain dangles from my fingers, catching the dim light of my bedside lamp. It's heavy. Expensive. The letters "DEREK" glint back at me like a taunt.
I forgot I even had it. I shoved it in my bag that morning at the hotel and never thought about it again. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to remember.
But now it's here. In my hands. Real and solid and undeniable.
"Why didn't I throw you away?" I whisper to the chain. "Why did I keep you?"
The answer is obvious, even if I don't want to admit it.
Because I couldn't let go.
I sit there, staring at the chain, and the memories come flooding back. The hotel room. The dim light. The sound of running water from the bathroom. The way he emerged, water beading on his bare chest, his muscles moving beneath his skin like they had a life of their own.
I remember the heat of his body against mine. The way his hands explored every inch of me. The softness of his lips and the roughness of his touch. The way he said my name in the darkness, like a prayer and a curse all at once.
I remember the pleasure. The shame. The confusion. The longing.
And I remember the morning after. Waking up alone. Seeing my clothes scattered on the floor. Running back to the bed to cover myself with the duvet, my face burning with humiliation.
But I also remember the way I felt when I was with him. Safe. Wanted. Seen.
For one night, I wasn't Emily Haven, the daughter of a dead miner. I wasn't the failure of Beverly Hills. I wasn't the woman who couldn't hold down a job or keep her life together.
I was just Emily. A woman who was desired by a man who made her feel beautiful.
Even if that man was a monster.
"Ugh." My stomach lurches suddenly, and I drop the chain on the bed. I clutch my midsection, running to the bathroom just in time to lose my dinner.
The morning sickness has been getting worse. I've been hiding it well so far. At work, I sip water and nibble crackers. I breathe deeply when the nausea hits. I blame it on stress or bad food.
But I know the truth. This baby is growing inside me, making itself known with every wave of sickness and every ache in my body.
I rinse my mouth and look at myself in the mirror. My face is pale. Dark circles ring my eyes. I look like a ghost of the woman I used to be.
"This is your fault," I tell my reflection. "You got yourself into this mess. Now you have to deal with the consequences."
I walk back to my room and pick up the chain again. I should throw it away. I should sell it. I should never look at it again.
But I can't.
Because this chain is evidence. It's proof that Derek and I were together. If he ever tries to deny it, if he ever tries to abandon me or the baby, I have this. I have something to hold over him.
It's leverage.
The thought makes me sick. I don't want to be that person. I don't want to use a one-night stand as a weapon. But I've learned the hard way that nice girls finish last. Nice girls end up dead at the riverbank while their families starve.
I'm not going to be that girl anymore.
"Emily?" My mother's voice comes through the door. "Are you okay? I heard you in the bathroom."
"I'm fine, Mom." I shove the chain back into my bag. "Just tired. Long day."
The door creaks open. My mother stands there, her eyes filled with worry. She's aged so much since Zevian died. The lines on her face are deeper. The spark in her eyes is dimmer.
"You don't look fine," she says. "You look like you're hiding something."
I force a smile. "I'm not hiding anything. I promise."
She doesn't believe me. I can see it in the way her lips press together, the way her hands fidget at her sides.
"Is it about the baby?" she asks softly.
My heart stops. "What?"
"The baby." She steps closer, her voice gentle. "I've been a mother for twenty-five years, Emily. I know the signs. The morning sickness. The way you touch your stomach. The tiredness." She pauses. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"
Tears fill my eyes. I can't lie to her. She's my mother. She's the only person in this world who truly loves me.
"Yes," I whisper. "I'm pregnant."
"Who's the father?"
I can't tell her. I can't look into her eyes and admit that I'm carrying the child of the man who ruined our family.
"Someone I don't want to talk about," I say. "Please. Just leave it alone."
She nods slowly, her face unreadable. "Whatever you need, Emily. I'm here for you. Always."
She hugs me, and I break down in her arms. The tears come hot and fast, the grief and the shame and the fear all pouring out at once.
"It's going to be okay," she murmurs. "We're going to get through this."
"Together?" I ask through my tears.
"Together."
After she leaves, I sit on the edge of my bed and pull out the chain again. I run my fingers over the letters, tracing them slowly.
D-E-R-E-K.
I made a mistake that night. A huge, life-changing mistake. But I can't undo it now.
All I can do is use it.
I hide the chain in a secret compartment of my nightstand. No one will find it there. No one will know it exists.
Except me. And Derek, if he ever asks.
But I don't think he will. He's already moved on from that night. He doesn't care about me. He doesn't care about what we shared.
He's a monster. And monsters don't remember the people they trample.
But I remember.
I remember everything.
And I'll never forget.
---
The next morning, I wake up with a new resolve. The chain is my secret weapon. My trump card. If Derek ever tries to destroy me, I'll use it.
But I hope I never have to.
Because despite everything, there's a small part of me that still remembers the man from the hotel room. The man who held me like I was precious. The man who whispered my name in the darkness.
I hope that man is still in there somewhere.
I hope he's not completely gone.
- Writer
