Her breaths came in short, painful gasps. She could feel herself slipping away. Was she going to die? So this was what death felt like? Like a feather, drifting away. She had heard people say that when you're at death's door, you'll see a movie of your life played back.
She could see hers right now. Images from her childhood flickering in her mind. She saw herself taking her first steps, her mother's arms outstretched, her face lit with joy. Playing landscapes at the playground. Picking flowers with her mother, the sun warm on her face. The warmth of her mother's embrace, the safety she felt with her.
This was it, this really was the end of Harriet Prescott. How did she end up like this? How did the course of her life change so drastically in less than two weeks?
—Two weeks ago.
Harriet Prescott sat in the living room, her skin ice cold as she watched the minutes tick by. It was past midnight. Damien, her husband, wasn't back yet and it had given her more time to replay the scene in her head again.
The smile on Dr. Singh's face when she broke the news that Harriet was pregnant. The smile was like she had just won a noble price in medicine.
Dr. Singh had been the one to break the news about Harriet's blocked fallopian tubes five years ago after she had a miscarriage. Harriet hadn't been able to get pregnant since then. But then, three hours ago, Dr. Singh had told her the opposite even after Harriet had reassured her that there was no way she could get pregnant.
"I said your tubes got blocked partially after the miscarriage, which made it very difficult for you to get pregnant over the years. But it isn't impossible. Sometimes the sperm and egg can still get through." she had said to Harriet in her office, still having that Nobel price smile on her lips.
Harriet could remember how she sat numbly in Dr. Singh's office staring blankly at her. She didn't cry. She didn't yell out in joy. She just sat there. In silence. She had been through at least a dozen of these over the years—a dozen of check ups and doctor's appointments—and now that she finally got the results she wanted, she wasn't sure how to react.
It wasn't until Dr. Singh pulled her into a hug and patted her back that reality hit her. This was real. Damien and Harriet were finally going to have a child of their own. They were finally going to get a chance to revive their marriage.
They had gone through lots of ups and downs these past five years of their marriage—mostly downs, but Damien's persistence had kept Harriet going. He would always reassure her that he was lucky to have her and that she was the only important person in his life.
But these couple of months had been hella rocky. Damien would come back home after midnight claiming to be busy with work. Harriet trusted him because she knew he would never lie to her. Maybe, just maybe this baby would be the glue to bring them back together again.
"Mrs. Shaw!" Their housekeeper, Chantelle, entered the room, her arms laden with freshly laundered linen.
When Harriet had returned from the hospital a few hours ago, she had met Chantelle tidying up one of the many guest rooms in the penthouse. But she was too occupied by her thoughts to ask what was going on.
"I..see you're done with your work." Harriet's voice sounded strange and hollow.
"Yes, ma'am..." Chantelle trailed off, "Mr. Shaw asked me to tidy up one of the guest rooms."
"He did?"
"Yes, ma'am." Harriet gave Chantelle a dismissive wave and Chantelle exited the room.
Harriet's mind raced for a second, was Damien inviting a friend over? He didn't have any close friends besides his cousin, Aiden Betler—none that Harriet knew of.
And he wasn't the type to be so hospitable that he would let just anyone stay the night at their house, a penthouse in the heart of the great city of Los Angeles.
Damien was usually protective of who he let in. Not only into his house but into his heart. He had been like that since Harriet was in college and that was one of the reasons she fell in love with him. One of the reasons she dropped out of college in her sophomore year to have his baby.
He was just a sales man then, but he still agreed to marry her and take on the responsibility. Harriet's father, Ethan Prescott, cut all ties with her because it. He didn't want a pregnant college dropout as his daughter. He didn't want Harriet to soil his reputation. He was the CEO of one of the largest luxury conglomerate after all.
But even without her billionaire father's help, Damien and Harriet were able to pick up the pieces and work harder after Harriet had a miscarriage and lost their baby. Harriet wanted Damien to be the man her father would be proud of so she abandoned her dreams of becoming an artist and going to arts school, to help Damien pursue his—for him to have his own tech company.
But along the way, Harriet had fallen by the wayside, consumed by the gravity of her husband's ambition. She pleased him, organized the right dinners with the right people, made the right connections as the daughter of Ethan Prescott. She made herself useful to Damien Shaw.
Five years of helping Damien accomplish his dreams, Harriet Prescott was gone, replaced by Harriet Shaw. Hostess, socialite and wife of Damien Shaw who was the CEO of IMU, the biggest tech company in Europe.
Everything Harriet did for the past years had been for Damien, and never had a day gone by that she regretted it. Because it was all for Damien Shaw. The man she loved.
Ding!
The door bell jolted Harriet. Her feet went cold and her palms grew sweaty. Damien was back and she couldn't wait to share the good news with him. She tilted her chin at her belly and stared at it for a moment. One part of her wanted to whisper "Daddy's home," to it. Another part of her ruled out the idea because a seven weeks old foetus that hasn't properly developed yet, wouldn't hear her.
She managed to get on her feet, her legs felt wobbly as she did. She walked towards the door, mentally counting her steps. Standing by the door, Harriet could see Damien from the door's monitor screen. He looked a little disheveled but a smile was plastered on his face.
He hardly smiled but whenever he did, it was genuine. She had always thought his smile was probably the closest thing to heaven's bell on earth. But this time, she could tell it was forced.
Harriet clicked on the monitor and it gave a long beep before the door finally opened. She stepped away from the door, dragging her feet back into the living room.
A few minutes later, Damien walked into the living room. Harriet could smell that familiar apple scent and it made her heart squeeze. For almost a year, Damien would have that scent on him every time he returned from the office. Harriet had asked him about it once and he'd told her it was from being around his secretary all day.
Harriet had no reason to doubt him. His actions gave her no reason to.
"Hey." Damien shrugged out of his coat, revealing an immaculate gray suit and crisp white shirt. Both custom-made, and probably costing more than four figures. "We need to talk."
He placed the coat on the ottoman and took Harriet's hand before sitting her down on the sofa. Harriet's blood ran cold. Anytime a person said "we need to talk," in a rather serious tone, it meant something huge.
She adjusted in her seat. "Can…I say something first?"
Damien's eyebrows twitched for a second and he blinked. His gaze held Harriet's as he said, "Go on…"
Harriet continued to hold his gaze and stare into his eyes for any sign of hesitation. His eyes were a pale blue, so pale they almost looked silver. They complimented his dark blonde hair and tanned face perfectly.
"I…" Harriet was interrupted by footsteps approaching.
The door to the living room swung open, and a woman walked in. She was tall and elegant, with dark hair that framed her face perfectly. Beside her stood a little boy, no more than two years old, clinging to her leg and looking around with wide eyes.
"Damien," the woman called out, still standing by the threshold.
Harriet exchanged a quick glance with Damien and he stoop up abruptly from the sofa, letting her hand go in the process.
"Melissa, you're not supposed to come in yet." Damien's voice was tensed. "I haven't talked to Harriet yet."
Pain, the like of which Harriet never knew was possible, pierced her heart. She had seen this kind of scenes before. In movies. Except this was real life and Damien loved her. All this was probably just a misunderstanding. She just had to hear him out.
Her skin prickled with goosebumps. "What's going on?" she demanded, looking between Damien and the woman.
Damien took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Harriet's briefly before turning back to the woman. "Harriet, this is Melissa... and Larry, her son."
Harriet's heart jumped and somewhere in her mind, she registered the "her" in "her son." Before her mind could process the rest, Melissa's voice snapped her out of her trance.
"You mean our son?" she corrected, her voice sharp.
All blood drained from Harriet's face as Melissa's words hit her like a punch to the stomach. She felt her knees go weak, and she gripped the arm of the sofa to steady herself. Melissa watched her without showing guilt. Harriet saw no sympathy in her glare. Just the cold, hard truth.