Chapter 7

Annie's POV

The smell of whiskey pulled me from unconsciousness. My head throbbed from Philip's sedative spray, each pulse a reminder of his final betrayal.Tears welled up instantly as the reality of my situation crashed over me.

Why is it always me? What did I do wrong?

First Brian's request for me and Philip to get a divorce, then Brian's lie,and the loss of my baby, and now this. A sob escaped my throat. The universe seemed determined to break me, piece by piece.Even my own husband had drugged me, ready to offer me up like some sacrificial lamb.

I can't... I can't take this anymore, I thought to myself, tears streaming down my face. Another sob racked my body as images of Brian's cold eyes and Philip's calculated betrayal flashed through my mind.

Stop crying. Stop it right now.

But the tears wouldn't listen. The accumulated pain poured out in the dusty darkness of this strange place.

Annie, get it together. Crying won't help.You will NOT fall apart here.

ENOUGH!

My inner voice was sharp.

You survived your father's death. You could survive Philip's betrayal. You can do this.I forced myself to take deep breaths, counting each inhale and exhale. Minutes passed.

Think,Annie. THINK.

I forced my eyes open, fighting the lingering drowsiness. The room swayed slightly, but I made myself catalog every detail. I was lying on a narrow folding bed in what appeared to be an abandoned photography studio.Dust-covered equipment and old light stands filled thespace.Empty whiskey bottles littered the floor, their labels catching what little light filtered through the grimy windows.

My mind was clearing. And so were my eyes.

A small table near the bed held my belongings - phone, wallet, car keys -along with Sarah's phone from my drawer, Howard Thompson's business card and a standing picture frame with a photo of a hubby boy,Max,that was not mine. Time-worn fashion magazine covers were scattered nearby,including one showing Sarah with a man on a yacht, their smiles frozen in a happier time. I studied the man's face in the photo, then looked around the studio with growing understanding.

"Brian?" My voice was barely a whisper. "Where's Brian?"

A man stood across the studio, methodically adjusting an old camera.Despite his disheveled appearance, traces of professional expertise showed in his movements. The sharp smell of whiskey carried across the space. As he shifted to check another piece of equipment, I caught a clearer view of his face-Sarah's ex-husband. The man from the yacht photo.

"Took him to the Natural History Museum," he said without looking away from his camera settings. "Kid wouldn't shut up about the dinosaurs.Sarah picked him up after that." "So Sarah planned all of this..."

His laugh held no humor. "Smart. Want to know why you're really here?"He turned back to adjust his lens, momentarily focused on the equipment.

I have to do something, I thought as my eyes focused on the table at hand.

"You tell me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

I shifted slightly, reaching out. My fingers had almost brushed my phone when a slight shift in his posture made me think he was turning. I yanked my hand back instinctively, heart pounding - but he remained absorbed in his work, never actually looking my way. The sedative was making me jumpy.

He picked up another piece of equipment. "You're quick witted. You can figure it out yourself as well."

My hand inched toward the phone again while his back was turned.Through the sedative's haze, my movements felt sluggish, dangerous.

"Because Sarah knew I'd find those messages on her phone," I ventured,watching as he became absorbed in cleaning a camera lens.

This time my fingers closed around the phone. I barely managed to slip it behind me as he looked up. It was so close. And thank god he didn't notice anything. "You surprise me again." His smile was empty as he turned back to his equipment, fiddling with an old flash unit. "What else do you know?" With trembling fingers, I typed Howard's number blindly, praying muscle memory would guide me through my fog. "You're Robert, I saw your name on the phone. " I maintained a steady voice despite my inner thrill. "But you... you're divorced from her. Why are you still doing her bidding?"

The camera wobbled in his hands. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"I wouldn't fall for that." He stared at my eyes.

"What? Are scared a woman would outrun you?" I locked eyes with him,summoning all my strength.

"Alright. I used to be someone. A top photographer for all the major magazines. Then everything collapsed." He slurred and went back to work with his camera, unseeingly.

"So it's about money?" I asked carefully.

"Wrong, okay. Enough of the game." He snapped back to the reality.

"Max, then." I ventured with a forlorn hope.

Instantly, his hands shook as he set down the camera. "You think you understand?" His voice rose sharply. "You think you know what it's like to lose everything?"

He suddenly lurched towards me, the sharp stench of whiskey growing overwhelming as he grabbed my wrists. His weight pinned me against the wall, his breathing ragged and hot against my face.

"Maybe I should show you what it feels like," he boomed,his grip tightening. "To be helpless. To have everything taken away."

The alcohol on his breath made me dizzy. Or maybe it was fear. I forced

myself to stay still, to keep my voice steady despite my racing heart."Like Sarah took everything from you?"

His grip loosened slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

"She's doing it again, isn't she?" I pressed on, though my voice shook."Taking Max away, just like she took your career, your dignity..."

His eyes focused on mine, a moment of clarity breaking through the drunken haze. Hlis hands dropped away as he stumbled backward.

I said quietly. "My father died when I was young. I know what it's like to watch your world fall apart."

His face twisted. "Sarah... she has ways of making you do things.She knows things. About Max, about the accident..."

"She's using you," I said gently.

"Shut up!" He stepped forward unsteadily. "You don't know anything about me!"

"I know what it's like to love your child so much it hurts. To want to protect them from pain. But Max needs his father to be strong. Not... this."

Something broke in his expression. He sank to the floor, head in his hands."I can't... I can't lose him too..."

The door crashed open. Howard Thompson stood there. In three strides,he had Robert pinned against the wall.

Then he started to punch him like a mad beast.

"Howard,wait!" I charged forward, holding him from the back.