Chapter 6
Lise Spooler Tags Appropriately
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When Gabriella woke up, she was plunged into darkness.
The blood on her forehead had dried, crudely bandaged like someone had half–heartedly cared.
Voices came from outside the room–Daniel’s voice.
“Thia, you didn’t deserve that. I never expected Gabriella to treat you that way, leaking your photos. But she’s still my wife. I can’t just throw her in jail.”
“So your plan is to starve her for a few days as punishment? Honestly, I’m fine… I’m used to being pushed around. I can handle it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one is allowed to hurt you anymore. Not even Gabriella.”
Then, Jerome started scheming. “Why don’t we lock her up from now on? Chains or something? That way, she can’t hurt anyone again.”
Gabriella felt her heart freeze. She stared blankly at the ceiling. Her own son wanted to chain her up. The words cut her deeper than any knife.
Daniel’s voice cut sharply. “Jerry, that’s your mother. What are you even saying?”
Then, his tone softened as he turned to comfort Cynthia. “If Gabriella keeps acting out, I’ll put her in one of the vacant apartments outside town. Someone will watch her, and you can focus on bringing our baby into the world safely.
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“To make sure she can’t run off, I’ll have a doctor give her something to keep her asleep most of the time. She won’t be able to hurt anyone.”
Cynthia sniffled, deeply touched. “Thank you, honey.”
Jerome clapped excitedly. “Yes! Then I don’t have to see her every day. Heck yeah!”
And just like that, Gabriella became a walking corpse. Days without food or water left her barely standing.
Daniel put her in the car. Cynthia sat in the passenger seat as they drove out of the city.
His voice was cold, emotionless. “Gabriella, when you’ve thought things through, I’ll come get you. This time, you went too far. Thia didn’t press charges, so you should at least be grateful.”
Gabriella ignored him, closing her eyes, sinking into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Cynthia feigned kindness. “Gabriella, we’ll come see you often.”
Daniel chuckled. “Gabriella, maybe you should take a page from Thia’s book–learn to be more forgiving.‘ !!
“Ugh… Daniel, you’re disgusting.”
Suddenly, a truck came barreling toward them. Daniel barely had time to react, yanking the wheel hard.
In the last second before impact, he threw himself over Cynthia without a thought.
The deafening crash shook the world around them. Gabriella felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, the slow, terrifying slip of life from her
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body.
Bystanders gathered, sirens blared.
Through the haze, she saw Daniel cradling unconscious Cynthia, shouting for help.
“Someone save my wife! She’s pregnant!”
All three were rushed into the ambulance. Daniel never once looked at Gabriella.
At the hospital, a nurse’s urgent voice cut through the chaos. “There’s only one OR. Who goes in first?”
“My wife–she’s carrying our baby!” Daniel shouted.
The nurse hesitated. “The other woman is pregnant too. What do we do?”
He glanced at Gabriella, pale and fragile, realizing she was pregnant as well.
Less than a second later, he carried Cynthia into the only operating room. “Save her first. Let’s deal with the rest later.”
Gabriella watched the doors close, leaving Daniel’s resolute back behind.
Weak, she closed her eyes. Time blurred until someone finally wheeled her away.
When she woke again, the doctor told her the baby was gone.
No sorrow. No joy. She pushed herself out of bed and insisted on leaving.
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Passing a room, she saw Daniel meticulously helping Cynthia with her
recovery.
Jerome held Cynthia’s hand, crying. “Mom Thia, please wake up soon.
She glanced one last time before taking the elevator down.
Gabriella dialed a number. “I’m ready. Come get me.”
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Half an hour later, she slid into a limited–edition stretch Lincoln and vanished from the hospital, leaving Daniel and Jerome’s world behind forever.
That night, Daniel smoked alone in the lounge when his phone rang.
“Mr. Durke, this is the New York City PD. Your wife, Gabriella Watson, drove off a bridge this afternoon. We haven’t recovered the body yet. Can you come to the scene?”
At the same time, a doctor, grave–faced, pushed through the door. “Mr. Durke, Gabriella is your wife, right? She just had a car accident and lost the baby. How could she leave the hospital on her own? She needs to rest properly, or she may never be able to have children again.”
The cigarette dropped from Daniel’s hand. A thunderous noise rang in his mind.
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