Cast Out Crowned By Fate

The slap came before the words. It cracked through the room like thunder, sharp and final, snapping Eliza’s head to the side as her body staggered under the force. For a moment, the world tilted. The chandelier above her blurred into streaks of gold, and the taste of iron flooded her mouth. “Shameless girl!” Her father’s voice followed, louder than the slap, heavier than the shame already crushing her chest. Edward Hart stood before her like a storm given flesh, his face twisted in fury, his eyes burning with something far worse than anger, disgust. Eliza pressed her trembling fingers to her cheek, her breath shallow, uneven. “F-Father, please…” “Do not call me that!” he roared. The room fell silent again, suffocatingly so. Even the ticking clock on the wall seemed to hesitate, as though afraid to exist in the presence of his rage. Her mother sat on the velvet sofa, pale and rigid, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned white. She said nothing, she always said nothing. “Eliza,” her father continued, his voice now low and deadly, “tell me it is not true.” Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. There was no escape from this moment, no lie could save her, no silence could undo what had already been discovered. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’m pregnant.” The words shattered what little remained of her world. Her mother gasped softly, as though struck by an invisible blade, but still, she did not speak. Edward Hart let out a bitter, humorless laugh, pacing away from her as though her very presence contaminated the air. “Pregnant,” he repeated, the word dripping with contempt. “Unmarried, living under my roof, carrying a bastard child.” Each word landed like a blow. Eliza’s hands instinctively moved to her stomach, protective, trembling. The life growing inside her… fragile, innocent, now suddenly felt like both her greatest blessing and her greatest curse. “Who is he?” her father demanded sharply, turning back to her. “Which worthless boy dared to ruin my daughter and drag this family’s name into the mud?” Tears welled in her eyes, she shook her head, panic rising in her throat. “He… he’s gone.” “Gone?” His voice rose again, incredulous. “Gone?” “He left,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He said he would come back, but…” “But he didn’t.” Edward finished coldly. Silence fell again, heavier this time, suffocating. “Of course he didn’t come back, men like that never do.” Her father’s expression hardened into something unforgiving, something final. “So you gave yourself to a man who abandoned you like refuse… and now you expect me to clean up your disgrace?” “No!” Eliza cried, taking a desperate step forward. “I’m not asking for anything, I just… I didn’t know what to do, I was afraid…” “Afraid?” he snapped. “You should have thought of fear before you spread your legs!” The words struck deeper than the slap ever could. Eliza flinched as though physically wounded, her entire body trembling now. Shame burned through her veins, hot and suffocating, but beneath it, beneath all of it, was something else. A quiet, stubborn defiance. “I won’t get rid of the baby,” she said suddenly, her voice shaking but firm. The room froze. Her father stared at her, stunned for a fraction of a second, then his face darkened further, if that were even possible. “You won’t… what?” Her father asked aggressively. “I won’t get rid of it,” she repeated, tears streaming freely now, but her chin lifted slightly. “It’s my child.” Her mother’s head snapped up at that, finally reacting. “Eliza, don’t…” “Enough!” Edward thundered, silencing them both. He walked toward her slowly, each step deliberate, terrifying. “You dare defy me?” he asked quietly. Eliza’s breath hitched, every instinct screamed at her to back down, to apologize, to beg… but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “I won’t kill my child,” she said again, softer this time, but no less resolute. For a long moment, her father simply stared at her. Then, without warning, he turned away. “Pack your things,” he said. The words were so calm, so devoid of emotion, that they didn’t register at first. Eliza blinked. “What…?” “I said, pack your things,” he repeated, not looking at her. “And get out of my house.” Her heart stopped. “F-Father, please…” “You have one hour,” he continued coldly. “After that, you are no longer my daughter, you are nothing to this family.” The world seemed to collapse inward. “No…” Eliza shook her head, stepping toward him. “You can’t mean that, this is my home.” “It was your home,” he corrected. “Until you chose to disgrace it.” Her legs felt weak, barely able to hold her up. “Where am I supposed to go?” “That,” he said, finally turning to look at her again, “is no longer my concern.” The finality in his voice was absolute, irrevocable. “Please,” she whispered, desperation clawing its way out of her chest. “I’ll do anything, just don’t send me away like this.” “You should have thought of that before you shamed us,” he replied. Her gaze flickered to her mother, clinging to the last thread of hope. “Mum… please…” But her mother looked away. That was the moment Eliza truly understood. She was alone, completely, utterly alone. The rain began just as she stepped outside. Cold, relentless, unforgiving. It soaked through her thin dress within seconds, plastering the fabric to her skin as though the sky itself sought to strip her bare. A small suitcase sat at her feet, pitiful in its size, containing the fragments of a life she no longer had. The door behind her clicked shut, locked. Eliza stood there for a long moment, staring at it, half-expecting it to open again, half-hoping her father would call her back, that her mother would come running after her, that someone, anyone, would stop this from becoming real, but no one did. A sob tore from her throat, raw and uncontrollable. She sank to her knees on the wet pavement, her hands clutching her stomach as though anchoring herself to the only thing she had left. “I’ve got you,” she whispered through her tears. “I’ve got you… I won’t let anything happen to you… I promise.” The baby shifted faintly beneath her palm, or maybe it was just her imagination. Either way, it was enough. Slowly, painfully, Eliza forced herself to stand. She picked up the suitcase, and she walked. London was merciless at night, the streets buzzed with life, cars rushing past, strangers brushing by without a second glance, laughter echoing from warm buildings she no longer had the right to enter. To them, she was invisible, just another girl, just another mistake. Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes. Time blurred into something meaningless as exhaustion weighed heavily on her body. Her feet ached. Her stomach churned with hunger. The cold seeped into her bones. Still, she walked, until her legs finally gave out. She stumbled into a narrow alley, her suitcase slipping from her grasp as she collapsed against the damp brick wall. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision swimming dangerously. “I… can’t…” she murmured weakly. Darkness crept at the edges of her sight, not here, not like this. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach again. “Please… just… a little longer…” Footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, slow, measured steps approaching. Eliza barely had the strength to lift her head. A figure emerged from the shadows at the mouth of the alley, a man, tall, broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the dim light. He stopped when he saw her. For a moment, neither of them moved, then he stepped closer. “What happened to you?” his voice was low, calm, but there was something in it. Something steady. Something… different. Eliza tried to speak, but no words came out. Her vision blurred completely now, the world slipping away. The last thing she saw was him kneeling in front of her, his expression sharpening with concern. And then, darkness.