Chapter 4

The makeup artist, a young woman named Chloe, delicately applied the finishing touches to my look. The deep emerald dress shimmered, hugging my curves, a stark contrast to the pale, fragile woman I had been. My hair, usually pulled back in a neat bun, cascaded in loose, elegant waves around my shoulders. I looked at my reflection. A stranger stared back. A stronger, colder woman. A woman ready for war.

Arthur arrived, his eyes widening. "Elenora," he breathed, a genuine admiration in his voice. "You look... incredible." He reached for my hand, but I subtly pulled it away.

"Thank you, Arthur," I said, my voice cool, distant.

We walked into the ballroom, a symphony of hushed whispers and polite applause. He played the part of the doting husband perfectly, his hand lightly on my back, his smiles charming, his eyes scanning for important faces. He basked in the reflected glow of my musical achievements, pretending he was the supportive partner who had made it all possible.

But the victory felt hollow. Contaminated. Every compliment, every congratulatory handshake, felt like a joke. A cruel, elaborate charade he had forced me into.

The lights dimmed. The host stepped onto the stage. "And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for! The recipient of this year's prestigious Golden Baton Award for Classical Composition, Elenora Dawson!"

The applause was deafening. I walked towards the stage, a practiced smile on my face. This was my moment. My hard-won recognition.

Then, a sudden, high-pitched shriek pierced the air. Leo. He burst onto the stage, a tiny whirlwind of chaos. He ran straight for the microphone, grabbing it with both hands.

"My Daddy's wife is mean!" he yelled, his voice amplified, echoing through the stunned silence of the ballroom. "She tries to take Daddy away from me and Mommy! She doesn't deserve a prize!"

The crowd gasped. Murmurs erupted, shocked whispers filling the elegant space. Karin, from the front row, rushed forward, feigning distress. "Oh, Leo, darling, you shouldn't say such things!" Her eyes, however, gleamed with malicious satisfaction.

Leo turned to me, his small face contorted in a terrifying mimicry of adult rage. "Give me your prize, ugly lady! It's mine! Daddy says I'm the best, not you!" He pointed at the shiny golden baton held by the host.

"Leo, no," I said softly, my voice barely audible above the rising clamor. My heart was pounding, a sickening rhythm against my ribs. This wasn't happening.

He lunged for the baton, his small, strong hands grabbing at my fingers. I held on tight; this was mine, the symbol of my life's work.

He whimpered, then bit my hand. Hard. A sharp, searing pain shot through me. I cried out, instinctively pulling my hand back. The golden baton clattered to the stage floor.

Chaos erupted. People were on their feet, shouting. Leo, seeing his chance, kicked me in the shin. A vicious, premeditated strike.

"Elenora, what have you done?!" Arthur's voice, thick with rage, roared beside me. He pushed me aside, roughly, as if I were a mere obstacle. His eyes, usually so charming, were blazing with fury. Not at Leo. Not at Karin. At me.

He knelt beside Leo, scooping the boy into his arms. "Are you okay, champ? Did she hurt you?" He glared at me, his face contorted in disgust. "You monster!"

I stumbled backward, the pain in my hand and shin nothing compared to the searing ache in my chest. He had just assaulted me. In front of everyone. For them.

Karin was there, her arm linked through Arthur's, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper in my ear. "See? He'll always choose his real family, Elenora. Always."

Arthur, with Leo safe in his arms and Karin clinging to his side, turned and strode out of the ballroom, leaving me shattered and exposed on the stage. As they disappeared, Leo craned his neck, sticking out his tongue and making a grotesque face at me. The malicious glee in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

A sudden, blinding pain shot through my head. Then, a dull ache spread through my lower abdomen. A sickening warmth blossomed between my legs. My dress, once emerald green, was now stained crimson.

No. No, this couldn't be happening.

My vision swam. The faces in the crowd blurred. The beautiful, elegant ballroom spun around me. The golden baton, lying forgotten on the stage, glittered mockingly.

The baby. Our baby. The one he never wanted.

A guttural sob ripped from my throat. A despair so profound, so absolute, consumed me. The world went dark.

I fell. And knew nothing more.