Page 1 of Chance

Prologue

“Just save my baby boy, please.”

The sound of her breathless plea breaks my heart, and I hear Allie crying by the door, the sound is loud in the room.

“I will do everything in my power to save you both,” the doctor tells her.

The next thing I know, Maisy is being taken out of the room, and I'm told I have to wait in here. Allie has to hold me back when they tell me I can’t follow and that they will bring the baby out if everything goes well.

If.

I vaguely hear Allie making sure we are told anything that happens as I fall to the floor, holding my hands to my face as my heart shatters into millions of tiny pieces. I can’t believe this has happened.

Chapter 1

Maisy

"Are you seriously going to wear that tonight, Maisy?" my mother screeches at me, looking at me in shock. I look down at my jean and white top then back up at her. I’ve gone past not caring what her problem is. It’s not like I want to leave the house tonight in the first place. I spent the morning throwing up over the smell of a salmon sandwich my dad ate, and my caring attitude went down the loo.

"So? Why not? I think I look fine,"I mutter, not knowing why I’m bothering to argue with her. My mother scowls at me in distaste as she wipes her hands down her pristine, white dress over her stick-thin body.

"Maisy, you have a date with Kyle Winchester, and you know this must go well. You cannot expect to live in sin in this house." She glances at my large stomach before looking away, like she can’t even acknowledge the fact that I’m pregnant.

The thing is, I don't care; not about anything other than my unborn child. I'm six months pregnant with a beautiful, baby boy, and that's the only good thing in my life anymore. I’ve accepted it, but it doesn’t make my heart stop hurting, or my family’s rejection of my child, sting any less.

"I know, Mother," I whisper, hoping she will just leave it.I am really not that lucky tonight.

"You clearly don't. You need to get married, and Kyle Winchester has loved you since you were a young, spoiled brat. The good man has even said he will accept that baby." She huffs at me.I hold back a snort of laughter as she mumbles on about how great Kyle is. The only thing she missed is that he is a stuck-up asshole.

"I know, Mother," I repeat.

“You can’t stay with us if this doesn’t go well, and then what will you do?” She doesn’t give me a chance to reply before continuing. “You will just be another single mum with no qualifications and no money. The boy who did that to you won’t care, as I’m sure you’re just another notch on his bedpost by now," she says harshly, and I flinch at my future, or more at my baby’s.

I breathe in deeply, as I know her words are right. Considering I left school too early to complete my A levels, I don’t have a chance of getting into university on my grades alone. I won’t even think about him yet, the man (a title he doesn’t deserve) who left me in this state alone and broke my heart all in one go.

I can’t even think about the baby’s father now without a hell of a lot of tears. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing them.

My mind floats to my grandmother and the huge trust fund she left me. I miss her so much, as she was all the family I had who actually cared about me. I’m lucky my mother doesn't know about my trust fund, but I can't touch it without her help, and I won't tell her about it.

"I will change," I say begrudgingly. I know she won't give up and will keep throwing insults until I do.

"Brilliant. I left a blue, maternity dress on your bed," she says, but she leaves out that I must wear it.

I leave our massive, white kitchen and walk down the corridor to my room. The walls of the house I live in are all white or grey, and my room is the same. There isn’t a single family picture in the house because my mother doesn’t like them. Instead, there are weird pieces of artwork, which I’m sure are worth a fortune but, to me, look like shit. I open the door to my room and rest my head against it as I look around.

There is a single bed in the corner–as my parents don't think I need a bigger one–white wardrobe, and a white chest of drawers. I haven't bought any baby stuff yet. I know that’s bad, but I'm saving all the money I can by working at the local supermarket. I work on the tills even if it kills my back; I need the money. I intend to work until the last minute of this pregnancy, before I can even think about leaving. I may play along with my parents’ insane idea that I should marry Kyle, but I'm trying to get out of town. It sometimes seems hopeless, and I feel like giving in, but one movement from my baby reminds me I can’t give up. The money I’ve saved will pay for the baby’s things but not rent, and then what do I do when he arrives? I can't work, and the maternity pay isn't enough to live on.

I look at the dark-blue, very tight dress on the bed and look up at the ceiling, praying for help to even get into it. I slip on a pair of silver pumps, not caring that they don’t match and grab my leather jacket.

After I change, the doorbell goes, and I walk as slowly as possible down to the entrance hall.

Kyle is standing there, looking stupidly rich and wearing an expensive suit, which does nothing to hide his unfit body underneath it. He is standing with my mother and father. They are all laughing, and my mother gives him a peck on the cheek before she notices me. Sometimes, I wonder if she is the one who wants to sleep with him because I really, really don’t.

"Maisy, darling, come here," she says in a fake, loving voice, which I’m used to hearing around guests.

I walk over as I say, "Hello, Kyle.” I try to smile, but I don't think it works.

He glances at me with a slight leer and then looks at my bump with a scowl, but he quickly hides it.

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