Chapter 2

Carson Moss wore a sharply tailored Tom Ford suit. He didn't look at the crowd. He walked straight through the whispering guests, heading directly for the center of the conflict.

Everly watched her husband approach. A desperate flicker of hope ignited in her chest. She instinctively reached her hand out toward him, needing him to shield her, needing him to fix this.

Carson didn't even look at her. He walked right past her outstretched arm, grabbed Giana's wrist, and pulled her toward him.

Everly's hand hung frozen in the empty air. The sound of the socialites laughing behind their hands pierced her eardrums like physical needles.

"You shouldn't be here," Carson muttered to Giana.

His tone was low, but there was no anger in it. Only mild scolding.

Giana immediately leaned her weight against Carson's chest. She pouted, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

"The baby was kicking," she whined. "He wanted to hear the music."

Carson frowned. He turned his head and gave a sharp hand signal to the hotel manager.

"Clear the room," Carson ordered. "No photos. Confiscate any phones that are out."

A wave of dizziness hit Everly. The room spun. She lunged forward and grabbed the sleeve of Carson's suit jacket, her fingers digging into the expensive wool.

"Carson, please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Look at my grandfather. He can't breathe."

Carson looked down at her hand on his arm. He ripped his sleeve away from her grip with brutal force.

"Stop acting like a hysterical shrew," he hissed, his voice low enough that only the three of them could hear. "You're embarrassing me."

Behind them, Arthur gasped for air. He gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his entire body shaking.

"Who..." Arthur wheezed, his vocal cords straining. "Who is that woman?"

Carson's face stiffened. He opened his mouth, ready to deliver a smooth, practiced PR lie.

But Giana moved faster. She ripped her wrist out of Carson's grip, stepped around the table in her high heels, and marched right up to Arthur's wheelchair.

Everly screamed and lunged to grab Giana's dress, but Carson's personal bodyguard stepped in, slamming his solid chest into Everly and blocking her path.

Giana leaned down. She shoved her face, painted with bright red lipstick, inches from Arthur's pale skin. She deliberately brushed her hair aside, exposing a dark purple hickey on her neck.

"Carson never loved Everly," Giana said, pronouncing every syllable with venomous clarity. "He thinks she's pathetic."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was an ultrasound printout from New York-Presbyterian Hospital. She shoved it violently into Arthur's trembling hands.

"I'm carrying the real Moss heir," Giana laughed, a sharp, grating sound. "It's a boy."

Arthur looked down. His eyes locked onto the name printed at the top of the medical scan. His eyes widened until the whites showed. A horrifying, wet gurgling sound erupted from his throat.

His face turned a deep, unnatural shade of purple. His hands clawed at the front of his shirt, tearing off a button. His body went rigid, and then he slid sideways, collapsing out of the wheelchair and hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

"Grandpa!" Everly let out a blood-curdling scream.

She shoved the bodyguard with all her might, throwing herself onto the floor beside Arthur.

Her hands shook uncontrollably as she ripped his bowtie off and tore his collar open.

"Call 911!" she screamed at the crowd. "Somebody call an ambulance!"

The ballroom descended into total chaos. Guests shoved each other to get back. Several people pulled out their phones, the camera flashes reflecting off the crystal chandeliers.

Carson saw the cameras. His eyes widened in panic. He didn't look at the dying old man on the floor.

"Get their phones!" Carson roared at his security team. "Confiscate everything! We IPO next week!"

Everly locked her hands together and pressed them hard against Arthur's chest. She pumped down, her tears falling in thick drops, splashing onto Arthur's graying face.

She turned her head, looking up at Carson with wild, desperate eyes.

"Use the helicopter!" she begged, her voice tearing her throat. "Your private chopper is on the roof! Fly him to the hospital now!"

Carson stared down at her. His eyes were completely dead.

"No," Carson said coldly. "The helicopter will draw too much press. We wait for the ambulance."

Giana hid behind Carson's broad back. She placed a hand over her stomach, pretending to look scared, but Everly saw the corners of her red lips pull up into a satisfied smirk.

The wail of sirens finally cut through the Manhattan night, growing louder until they echoed inside the ballroom.

Paramedics rushed through the doors, pushing a stretcher. They grabbed Everly by the shoulders and physically dragged her away from Arthur's body.

Everly fought them, crying and reaching out. She watched helplessly as they strapped her grandfather to the board.

She turned her head one last time. Carson was wrapping his suit jacket around Giana's shoulders, carefully guiding the uninjured woman toward the private VIP elevator, leaving Everly entirely alone.