The Broken Ballerina and the Doctor Who Healed Her Heart

I had just claimed the prestigious Prima Award for dance, the culmination of two decades of brutal work. I was eight months pregnant, exhausted, and soaring. Then my husband told me I had to hand the title over to his Golden Girl.

When I refused, Lachlan ordered me to dance on a stage riser hed covered in sharp carpet tacks.

The agonizing stabs pierced the soles of my feet. Blood mixed with my suddenly ruptured waters, streaming down my legs. I curled up, begging him to stop, but his voice was a sheet of ice.

You winning already upset Kinsley, and now you have the pregnancy, too. People shouldnt be so greedy, Anya.

Besides, you wont need to dance anymore. You have me.

I lost the baby and, eventually, married another man. He came for me, on his knees, and in a terrifying fit of madness, broke his own leg with a glass vase.

If I pay you back my own leg, Anya, will you finally look at me?

Lachlan Mercer, are you out of your mind?

Im eight months pregnant! How can I dance on that?

My voice echoed, panicked and thin, in the cavernous, empty theater.

Two of his security guysthick, silent menheld my arms in a grip like steel vises. The stage lights were blinding, illuminating the dark, wooden percussion riser right in front of me, its surface studded with hundreds of sharp, silver tacks.

Lachlan adjusted the cuff of his bespoke suit, slow and deliberate, and then gripped my chin. His tone was casual, as if discussing a slight change in the dinner menu.

The doctor said the baby is perfectly stable, Anya. Tell me, do I believe you, or do I believe a specialist in fetal medicine?

A sharp contraction seized my lower abdomen, a sudden, brutal pain that was becoming more frequent. Eight months of carrying our child had already pushed my body to its limit. The voice that once promised me forever now only delivered a bone-deep cold. Fear, thick and paralyzing, began to spread.

I softened my tone, pleading.

Lach, please, Im pregnant. Our baby is coming soon. Dont do this to me.

But his face was immutable, the anger in his eyes frigid.

You winning the Prima already devastated Kinsley. Now you have the baby, too. You cant be this greedy, Anya.

You upset her. Youre going to apologize.

Kinsley Wells. Lachlans true north, the girl hed cherished on a pedestal since high school. The one no amount of effort, no amount of success on my part, could ever measure up to.

In that moment, a profound, gut-wrenching regret washed over me. I regretted loving Lachlan Mercer.

My nose stung. Bitter tears, hot against the cold in the air, started to fall.

Lachlan, dance is all I have. If I cant dance, I have nothing left.

He scoffed, a dry, cruel sound.

Youre still selfish. Youd even use our child as a bargaining chip for your career. He wiped away a tear with a chillingly cold thumb. My body shivered violently at the contact. But I can overlook it.

You wont need to dance anymore. You have me.

Didnt you always want a big wedding? I promise you, if you complete this dance, apologize to Kinsley, and do it right, Ill give you the wedding. As soon as the baby is born, well get married.

I was trembling, the abdominal pain intensifying. But it was Lachlans look of chilling possessiveness that truly suffocated me.

The guards grip loosened. I tore free and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.

Lachlan, I wont dance. I surrender. Ill take the baby and disappear. Ill never show up in front of you or Kinsley again. I clung to him, my voice ragged and broken. Please, just let me go.

His expression darkened instantly. He ripped his sleeve from my grasp, the force sending me stumbling back, nearly pitching me onto the tacks.

Anya, what is this drama?! His voice was a whip-crack, slicing through the air. Im offering you the wedding you wanted, and youre still making a scene?

I stared at him, a choked, hysterical laugh caught in my throat. The wedding? Did he truly think I cared about a ceremony?

I dont need your wedding. I shook my head, tears mixing with cold sweat. I just want my baby safe. I just want my legs.

Enough! He exploded, seizing the back of my neck and forcing me to look straight into his eyes. Anya Reid, dont push me!

Its just a few scratches on your feet. Youre not going to die. He sneered. Youre such a star, aren't you? You used to get hurt all the time in training. Why the sudden delicacy?

His fingers clenched, the pressure making my vision swim, but I instinctively clamped my hands over my belly.

Lachlans hand slid from my neck and clamped hard onto my wrist. A dark, unreadable emotion churned in his eyes. He flicked his gaze toward the guards.

Put her up there.

No! Lachlan!

I fought, twisting backward, but the guards were too strong, dragging me forward by the arms. In my struggle, my calf brushed the edge of the riser. An immediate, searing pain shot up my leg.

They tossed me like a broken doll toward the center of the wooden box.

Ah!

The instant my body contacted the surface, hundreds of tacks simultaneously impaled my palms, my knees, and my shins. The agony turned my vision red. I tried to curl up to shield my abdomen, but the slightest movement drove the pins deeper.

Warm blood immediately saturated the thin fabric of my dancewear, spreading into sickening, dark stains on the wood.

Dance. Lachlan stood just outside the spotlight, his voice laced with cruel anticipation. You love it so much, dont you?

I tried to push myself up, trembling, but my hands slipped the moment I lifted them from the tacks, throwing my balance. A tack plunged deep into the arch of my right foot. I threw my head back, a broken, involuntary sob tearing from my throat.

That desperate movement put tremendous pressure on my belly. A sudden, sharp, twisting pain made me freeze. Something was terribly wrong.

The baby, Lachlan. Please, save the baby.

I managed to look up, seeing blood now streaming down my inner thigh.

A gush of amniotic fluid, already stained crimson, spread across the wooden surface. I could smell the metallic tang of blood, the scent of lifemine and the babysebbing away.

Lachlan finally took a half step forward. The light cast harsh shadows on his sculpted features. I thought, hoped, his heart might soften. Instead, he spoke into his phone.

Kinsley? Are you watching the feed? She wont ever dance again.

A tearing pain erupted in my abdomen. I convulsed, doubling over, my fingers clawing at the wooden surface, only to be pierced again by the tacks. The physical torment was eclipsed only by the realization: my suffering, my humiliation, was being offered up as a trophy to another woman.

Lachlan, the baby. I trembled, weakly reaching out a bloody hand, my voice a barely audible whisper. I think... Im in labor.

More of your theatrics? Lachlan scoffed, his eyes sweeping disdainfully over my soaked clothes. Anya, your acting skills truly have improved.

The side door of the theater swung open. Kinsley Wells glided in, her stiletto heels clicking sharply on the concrete floor. She wore a pristine white dress, radiating an artificial purity under the spotlights.

Lach, honey, I came to watch Anya dance! Her overly sweet voice grated in the empty space.

I writhed on the tacks, agony making me sweat profusely. My fingernails dug into the wood, immediately drawing more blood.

Kinsley approached, then suddenly pressed a hand to her nose and gasped dramatically.

Oh my God, what is that smell?

She pretended to look down at my drenched skirt, her expression one of manufactured shock.

Anya, you didnt... did you lose control? Is she wetting herself?

Lachlan frowned, a flicker of disgust crossing his face. He actually took a half step back. That small movement hurt more than any of his words.

Its my water. I struggled to lift my torso, cold sweat pouring down my temples. Please, call an ambulance.

Kinsley suddenly crouched down, scrutinizing my pained, twisted face up close. Her red lips curved into a wicked smile. She spoke just loud enough for only me to hear.

Watch closely, Anya. Im going to show you, right now, who Lachlan will choose.

Ah!

Before I could react, Kinsley grabbed my hand. She yanked hard and then, with a sharp cry, dramatically threw herself backward, near the edge of the riser. A few tacks scraped her slender arm, leaving shallow, insignificant lines of blood.

Kinsley!

Lachlans eyes went wide. He lunged forward instantly, shoving me aside to sweep her into his arms.

My already precarious body, weakened and bleeding, was thrown off balance by his shove. I crashed fully onto the center of the wooden box. Several tacks drove deep into my back. The intense, piercing pain made my vision go black, and a guttural cry escaped my throat.

Lach, honey, it hurts so bad. Kinsley clung to him, tears streaming down her face, her voice fragile and heartbroken.

Lachlans eyes flashed with a murderous rage. He turned his head and glared at me, the fire in his eyes threatening to incinerate me.

Anya Reid, are you trying to die?!

Then, he slammed his foot into my stomach!

CRACK!

The impact sent me flying off the riser and onto the hard concrete floor. A firestorm of pain exploded in my abdomen. I curled into a fetal position, cold sweat soaking my entire body. I clutched my belly, tears and blood pooling beneath my head.

The baby! My baby!

Lachlan watched me, his voice a cold snarl.

Anya, youre truly disgusting. How dare you push Kinsley?

Kinsley leaned against him, her face a mask of tearful fragility.

Lachlan, does Anya hate me? I only wanted to watch her dance.

Lachlan gently wiped her tears, his voice laced with tenderness. Dont be scared, darling. Im here. No one will ever hurt you.

With that, he lifted Kinsley into his arms and walked away. He didn't spare me a final glance.

Only the guards remained, looking uncomfortable.

What do we do with her?

We cant just let her die, can we?

This is a mess. Take her to the hospital.

I lay on a freezing gurney, blood continuously pooling beneath me.

My God, what happened to her?

Where is the family? The patient is hemorrhaging badly, risk of emergency delivery and fetal distress. We need to operate immediately! The doctor frantically looked around, seeing only the cluster of awkward security guards.

Where is the father? We need his signature!

The guards exchanged uncertain looks and finally called Lachlan.

Over the phone, Lachlans voice was detached and utterly sarcastic.

What is she faking now? The doctor already confirmed the baby was stable.

Mr. Mercer, the doctor says your wife is in distress. Its a very critical situation.

Hmph. He sneered. Her due date is weeks away.

Anyas best skill is acting. Shed use her own child as leverage. Tell the doctor to let her get on with whatever shes doing and not to bother me again.

The line went dead.

The doctors face fell. Absurd! This is a matter of life and death!

I lay on the moving stretcher, my consciousness starting to fade. But Lachlans final words cut through the pain, sharp and absolute. He didnt care if his child lived or died.

The intense pain was a constant blur as I was rushed into the operating room. Under the blazing surgical lights, I felt my life force slowly draining away. In a haze, I saw Lachlans retreating back, holding Kinsley. So final. So cruel.

He really didnt love me. He didnt even want our baby.

Then I knew. I wouldnt love him anymore, either.

Blood pressure dropping rapidly!

Prep for transfusion!

Patient is in shock!

The voices of the medical team grew distant. My world dissolved into a heavy darkness.

When I woke up again, a doctor was standing over me, his expression complicated and sorrowful.

Ms. Reid, I have some unfortunate news.

My hand automatically went to my abdomen. It was terrifyingly flat.

The baby? My voice was hoarse, unrecognizable.

The doctor sighed. I am so sorry. You arrived with severe hemorrhaging and catastrophic amniotic fluid loss. We did everything we could, but the baby suffered an acute lack of oxygen and passed away.

My entire world imploded. Eight months. I had felt him grow day by day. I had bought small outfits, imagined the first time he would call me Mommy. Now, it was all gone.

Also, the doctor hesitated. Your feet and knees had multiple deep puncture wounds. Weve cleaned and sutured them, but

Will I ever dance again? I gripped the bedsheet so tightly my knuckles turned white.

The doctor was silent for a long moment. Theoretically, yes. But it will severely limit your ability to perform high-level professional work, and you will require years of intensive physical therapy.

The first clear thought I had was to call the funeral home. I had to bury my child.

The second was to call my lawyer. I needed divorce papers drafted immediately.

I saw Lachlan three days later.

He pushed the door open and walked straight to my bedside.

Anya Reid, how long are you going to keep up this act? He looked down at me, his eyes filled with sheer annoyance. Have you had your fun? I told you Kinsley and I are nothing. Im giving you the wedding.

I stared at him, suddenly realizing this man was a complete stranger.

His gaze finally drifted to my flat abdomen. A look of startled confusion, then sudden, misplaced joy, flashed across his face.

You delivered early? Why didnt you tell me? Where is the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?

That was the moment the dam broke. My tears finally came, hot and endless.

The door swung open just then. It was the funeral home attendant, carrying a small, rose-pink velvet box.

My voice was quiet, almost unnervingly calm. I pointed to the small box.

You wanted to see the baby?

Hes right there.