Chapter 7 7

Ten minutes later, the maid returned, breathless and flushed. She handed a brown paper pharmacy bag to Vivian, her eyes darting nervously toward the ballroom entrance.

"Here," Vivian said, snatching the bag and thrusting it at Alessandra. "Take it. Quickly."

Alessandra reached into the bag. She pulled out the box. Plan B One-Step. The shrink wrap looked tampered with, a subtle wrinkle in the plastic that shouldn't be there, but she pretended not to notice.

She opened the box and shook the pill into her hand.

It was white. Round.

She raised it to her lips.

"Alessandra!"

The voice was shrill and triumphant.

Ilene marched into the corridor, flanked by her entourage of socialites and, crucially, Darius Brandt. He looked annoyed at being dragged away from his scotch, but his eyes sharpened when he saw the scene.

"What are you taking?" Ilene demanded, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

Alessandra feigned surprise. Her hand jerked, and the pill rolled onto the floor.

Chloe dove for it like a shortstop. She grabbed the pill and snatched the open box from Alessandra's other hand.

"Oh my god," Chloe gasped, pouring the contents of the box into her palm. There were three more pills inside-which was wrong. Plan B was a single-dose pill. And these pills had small markings on them.

"This isn't contraception," Chloe announced, holding them up to the light like evidence in a murder trial. "These look like... like those vitamins my aunt took when she was trying to get pregnant. What are these, some kind of fertility booster?"

The group of socialites gasped in unison. It was a well-rehearsed chorus.

Ilene stepped forward, her face a mask of righteous indignation. "Alessandra, you just told everyone you didn't drug him. But now you're sneaking fertility drugs? What are you trying to do? Get pregnant tonight? Trap him with a baby?"

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and ugly. In their world, being a "baby trapper" was a social death sentence. It confirmed every gold digger stereotype.

Vivian turned pale gray. "No, that's... she asked for..." She stammered, looking from the pills to her daughter, realizing she had been played, but not understanding by whom.

Darius stepped forward. The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees.

He looked at the pills in Chloe's hand. Then he looked at Alessandra. The faint amusement he had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a deep, visceral disgust. He despised manipulation. He despised anyone trying to leverage his legacy.

"Is that your plan?" Darius asked. His voice was quiet, dangerous. "You want a Brandt baby that badly?"

Alessandra looked at him. She saw the judgment. She saw how quickly he believed the worst of her. It hurt, a phantom pain from a life where she had loved him.

But then she looked at Ilene, who was struggling to hide a smirk.

Alessandra laughed.

It was a soft, dry sound. She clapped her hands together slowly. Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Bravo," she said. "Truly. The production value is increasing."

"The evidence is right there!" Ilene pointed at the pills.

Alessandra bent down. She picked up the pill she had dropped. She held it between her thumb and forefinger, examining it.

"Darius," she said, holding the pill up to his eye level. "Do you believe I intended to take this?"

Darius looked at her with cold contempt. "The box was in your hand. The intent is clear."

"Right," Alessandra nodded. "Because I'm just a desperate Abbott looking for a payout."

She walked over to a trash can near the service door.

"You think I want your bloodline?" she asked, her back to him.

She flicked the pill into the garbage.

She turned around. Her eyes were blazing now, dark holes of intensity that swallowed the light.

"You think I want to carry a child that shares your DNA?"

She took a step toward him.

"Let me show you exactly how much I want to be a mother to your children."