Imogene Scott
The room seems to spin around me as her words sink in. Not a real abortion? No pregnancy to begin with. I lean against the door, my breath caught in my throat. I don’t know if I heard her right—no, I must’ve misheard. My mind races, trying to make sense of it. But the words keep echoing in my head.
She lied. Elinor wasn’t pregnant . The hospital, the abortion, it was all a show.
I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears as I push the door open. Elinor is sitting on the small sofa, her phone in hand, mid-sentence. She looks up and her face looks startled as I stand there, staring at her.
“Elinor...” My voice is barely more than a whisper.
Her face hardens when she realizes what I must once overheard. Before I can say another word, I storm across the room, my hand flying thr
