Chapter 4

Nessa POV

I woke not to an alarm, but to the swelling strain of violins.

Disoriented, I squinted at the clock on my nightstand. 7:00 PM. The heaviness in my limbs told me I had slept through the entire day, my body shutting down under the crushing weight of grief.

I dragged myself out of bed and moved to the landing of the grand staircase. The sight below stopped me cold.

The Great Hall had been transformed. Crystal chandeliers cast a prism of light over round tables draped in heavy white silk. A sea of people in tuxedos and evening gowns mingled below, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and imported lilies.

A birthday gala.

My birthday was next week. I hadn't celebrated it in a decade, not since Mom died. But as my eyes adjusted, I realized with a sinking heart that this wasn't for me.

Above the limestone fireplace, my mother's portrait-a breathtaking oil painting of her in her prime-was gone.

In its place hung a massive, gaudy photograph of Serena, my father's mistress-turned-wife, smiling down like a conquering queen.

I gripped the banister so hard my knuckles turned white.

Thomas, the head butler, hurried past with a tray of champagne. He kept his head low, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Thomas," I called out, my voice raspy from disuse. "Where is my mother's painting?"

He paused, his posture rigid. "Mr. Vane ordered it moved to storage, Madam," he whispered, shame coloring his tone. "Miss Rissa thought it was... gloomy."

Gloomy.

I descended the stairs, my bare feet silent on the marble. The crowd parted as I approached, whispers trailing in my wake like smoke.

"That's her," someone murmured behind a fan. "The poor thing."

"I heard the estate is already in Serena's name," another voice hissed.

Salvo spotted me first. He was swaying slightly, a champagne flute in hand, his face flushed with drink.

"Nessa!" he shouted, waving me over with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Come pay respects to your new mother."

He pointed a thick finger at Serena, who was holding court in the center of the room. She was draped in diamonds-diamonds that looked suspiciously like the set my grandmother had left to me.

"Happy Birthday, Serena," I said, my voice flat.

"It isn't today, dear," Serena smiled, her lips stretching into a thin, predatory line. "But we have so much to celebrate. The family is finally... whole."

Before I could retort, Rissa entered the room.

The air left my lungs in a painful rush.

She was clinging to Xander's arm, preening like a peacock. But it wasn't seeing my husband with her that stopped my heart.

It was the dress.

She was wearing a vintage emerald green silk gown. My mother's dress.

It wasn't just any dress. It was the one Mom had worn to her last anniversary dinner. The one I kept in a sealed, climate-controlled garment bag in my private vault. Rissa hadn't just borrowed it; she had raided my sanctuary.

Xander was beaming. He held up a hand, silencing the orchestra and the room.

"Tonight," Xander announced, his voice booming with performative pride, "I present a token of my devotion. A 'True Heart' diamond."

He snapped open a velvet box. Inside, a massive pink diamond caught the chandelier's light.

He turned to Rissa, not me.

The room fell into a stunned silence.

"For the woman who carries the future of the Lino family," he declared.

He realized his mistake a second too late. The whispers rose again, sharper this time. He turned to me, his smile faltering into something brittle. "Nessa, darling, come here. Rissa was just... modeling it for you."

I ignored the diamond. I ignored him. I walked straight up to Rissa.

"Take it off," I said. My voice was low, trembling with dangerous rage.

Rissa smirked, leaning back into Xander's chest. "What? The necklace?"

"The dress," I snarled. "Take off my mother's dress."

"You're making a scene," Xander hissed, stepping between us to shield her. "It's just a dress, Nessa. Rissa fit into it better. You're too big right now."

The cruelty of his words slapped me harder than a physical blow.

"It's an heirloom!" I shouted, my control snapping. "She is a thief!"

I lunged for her. I didn't want to hurt her; I just wanted to rip that sacred silk off her unholy body.

Xander grabbed my wrists, his grip bruisingly tight. "Stop it!" he yelled.

Rissa saw her chance.

She threw herself backward. It wasn't a stumble; it was a launch, executed with theatrical force.

"Ahhh!" she screamed, crashing onto the polished floor.

In the chaos, she reached up and yanked the shoulder strap of the dress herself. The sound of tearing silk-rip-echoed through the silent hall.

"She's attacking me!" Rissa shrieked, clutching her stomach. "Xander, help! The baby!"

The guests gasped in collective horror.

Xander shoved me. Hard.

I stumbled back, my center of gravity thrown off. My lower back slammed into the sharp edge of a heavy oak table.

Pain exploded in my spine, radiating outward in blinding waves. I crumpled to the floor, the world spinning.

"You crazy bitch!" Xander roared at me.

He dropped to his knees beside Rissa, who was sobbing tearlessly.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Salvo was there too, fussing over Rissa like a worried hen.

Nobody looked at me.

Then, I felt it. A warm, terrifying wetness trickling down my leg.

I touched my inner thigh. When I pulled my hand away, my fingers were stained crimson.

"Xander," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Blood."

He looked over his shoulder at me.

His eyes were cold. Dead. Devoid of any recognition that I was his wife, or that I carried his child.

"You did this to yourself," he spat. "Reflect on your sins, Nessa."

He scooped Rissa up into his arms, treating her like fragile porcelain, while I bled out on the cold marble floor.

"Clear the room!" Salvo shouted.

The guests hurried out, casting looks of disdain at the jealous, violent pregnant woman on the floor.

And then, silence descended. I was utterly, devastatingly alone.