Emma woke at 3:07 a.m. to the sound of Mark’s breathing next to her, steady and exhausted, his hand still resting on the dark line of her belly like it could anchor her. The plugs were gone by now Marcus had pulled them out at 2:40 a.m. after the last drive home, leaving her aching and empty for the first time in weeks. She stared at the ceiling, chest tight, the familiar ache not from milk or stretch but from something heavier: the thought that had been circling her head for days. Leaving. Mark didn’t deserve this. The baby his son didn’t deserve the way she’d turned into a walking secret. But the thought that kept pulling her back was the one she hated most: maybe she didn’t deserve him anymore. Not after what she’d let Marcus and Jax do to her body, her mind, her money.
She slipped out
