He raises his eyebrows. “Did you?”

Did I?

“You changed your mind about dying? Well, lucky for you, you vomited most of the aspirin, or it may not have been up to you.” He sounds angry. “Do you know what happens with aspirin poisoning?”

I turn my face to wipe it on the shoulder of the hospital gown. “Please untie me.”

“Answer my question. Do you know?”

I do. Even if you change your mind, it may be too late for your kidneys. I nod.

“Where did you get the pills?”

“Mercedes left them.”

The hand I can see fists and warring emotions darken his features. “I see.”

“Please untie me.”

He shifts his gaze down to one wrist, and without comment, he undoes the buckle. He then moves to do the same on the other bind.

I watch his dark head as I rub my wrists. “Isn’t it what you want?”

He looks at me. “What?”

“Me dead.” I feel sick to say it. Feel myself start to tremble with a sudden cold.

He stands, runs a hand through his hair, and shakes his head like he’s having some private conversation in his head. He then looks at me again. “You’re pregnant, Ivy.”

“What?”

“You could have hurt the baby.”

“But…” I shake my head, try to remember my last period. Days and weeks all meld together, time lost in my prison where it’s always night. “I can’t be.”

“You are. And you’ll have a guard 24/7 once you’re home. You will not harm my child again.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to—”

“You will eat, you will get fresh air, you will exercise. Your body will be a healthy host for my child.”

“A host?” I shake my head, hating the hurt inside my chest. “That’s all I am?”

His eyes narrow. “You’ve proven untrustworthy too many times to be anything else.”

“How far?”

“Four weeks. Five.”

“It’s not possible.”

He leans down to take my chin in his hand and force my head up. “It is reality. My child grows inside your belly. You will not hurt him again.”

Does he think I really wanted to hurt a baby? I tug free of his grip. “Get out.” My voice breaks.

“You will never be alone again. Isn’t that what you’ve been whining about?”

“Get out.” I can’t look at him as my hand moves over my belly, my throat tight, vision blurry with tears. I’m pregnant. I am pregnant.

“Marco will bring you home once you’re released later today.”

I look at him now. “Your house is not my home. It will never be my home.”