Chapter 3

Olivia POV

The summons came at midnight, sharp and unforgiving.

Two guards flanked me, marching me down the corridor toward the Great Hall. The silence of the house was oppressive, pressing against my eardrums like deep water.

Marcus sat in the high-backed leather chair at the head of the mahogany table. He looked less like a fiancé and more like a king passing a death judgment. Izzy was seated next to him, her face buried in a silk handkerchief, her shoulders shaking with theatrical sobs.

The air smelled of stale smoke and expensive scotch. My stomach twisted into a knot.

"Olivia," Marcus said. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

It wasn't a greeting. It was a sentence.

Izzy looked up. Her eyes were red, but suspiciously dry.

"Liv," she choked out. "Why? Why did you do it? I know you hate me, but... the baby?"

My blood froze in my veins. "Baby? What are you talking about?"

"The dress," she wailed, pointing to a heap of white satin on the table. It was shredded. Destroyed. "And the stress... the doctor said..."

She dissolved into tears again, her voice cracking perfectly on cue.

Marcus stood up. He walked toward me, his shadow stretching long and dark across the floor like a stain.

"That dress was for the wedding," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "But that is material. It can be replaced. My heir cannot."

"I didn't touch her dress," I said, my voice shaking. "I haven't left my room in a week. You have guards!"

"Guards can be bribed," Marcus snapped, cutting me off. "We found the scissors in your room, Olivia. Taped under your mattress."

"That's a lie!" I screamed. "She's lying!"

"Silence!"

The roar echoed off the vaulted ceiling, making the crystal chandelier tremble.

"You have always been obsessed," Marcus said, stepping into my personal space. I could smell the acrid burn of alcohol on his breath. "I tolerated your crush because you were a child. But this? Destroying my lineage because of your jealousy?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "No one knew."

"Exactly," Izzy hissed from the table, venom coating her words. "I wanted to surprise you, Marcus. And she... she ruined it."

I looked at Marcus. I looked for the man who once gave me candy. The man who had shielded me from crowds and nightmares.

I saw only a stranger. A man blinded by rage and a woman's performance.

"You have no right to defend yourself," he said coldly.

"She's just a girl, Marcus," old Capo Rossi muttered from the corner, shifting uncomfortably. "Maybe-"

Marcus shot him a look that silenced the room instantly. "She is a Hayes. She knows the cost of betrayal."

Time seemed to slow down. I looked at the window. Rain was lashing against the glass.

*He used to hold an umbrella over me,* I thought numbly. *Now he is the storm.*

"The wedding is postponed," Marcus announced to the room, his voice devoid of emotion. "Due to the tragic loss of my child."

He looked at me.

"And Olivia will be punished. She has dishonored this family. She has insulted me."

I didn't cry. I felt a strange snap inside my chest. Like a rubber band breaking under too much tension.

The girl who loved Marcus died in that moment. She withered up and blew away like dust in the wind.

"Take her phone," Marcus ordered.

A guard ripped it from my hand.

"Delete her accounts. Cut her off. She doesn't exist to the outside world until she learns her place."

I stood straight, my spine locking into place. My chin lifted.

"You're making a mistake," I said. My voice was steady. It surprised even me.

"The only mistake," Marcus said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine, "was thinking you were innocent."

He straightened and gave the order. "Take her to the Ice Cellar."

A gasp went through the room. The Ice Cellar wasn't just a jail. It was a torture chamber. A damp, freezing underground vault used for traitors who were never meant to see the sun again.

My father wasn't there. He was conveniently away on business. Or maybe he was hiding.

I didn't fight the guards.

As they dragged me away, I locked eyes with Izzy. She lowered the handkerchief. A small, triumphant smile played on her lips.

*I will kill you,* I thought. The thought was calm, rational, absolute.

They marched me through the bowels of the estate. The air grew colder with every step, seeping into my bones.

They shoved me into the dark room. It was stone, cold, and smelled of mold and old blood.

"This is the price of disrespect," Marcus said from the doorway. He didn't deign to step inside.

"Marcus," I said.

He paused.

"I hate you," I said. "More than I ever loved you."

He didn't flinch. He just signaled the guard.

The heavy iron door slammed shut with a finality that shook the ground. The darkness swallowed me whole.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering violently as the cold bit into my skin.

*I have to die,* I told myself in the dark. *The princess has to die so the survivor can be born.*