Chapter 3

The news of my twin pregnancy, and the doctor's assurance of their perfect health, transformed James. He treated me like fragile porcelain, his every gesture radiating a possessive pride. Margaret, too, softened considerably, her conversations now peppered with advice on prenatal care, drawn from her long-ago nursing days.

Chloe, however, was a thundercloud in our suddenly sunny household.

Her initial shock had given way to a simmering resentment. She saw the shift in James's attention, the subtle ways her own status as the cherished heiress was being challenged.

One afternoon, she found me in the library, ostensibly looking for a book.

"I hope you know," she said, her voice dripping venom, "that even if you do have these babies, and even if they are boys, Daddy will always love me more. I was here first."

"I'm not competing with you for your father's love, Chloe," I said calmly, turning a page in my own book.

"You're a liar," she spat. "You're just trying to steal my inheritance."

"The Winston fortune is vast, Chloe. I'm sure there's enough for everyone."

Her eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that."

A few days later, Chloe approached me with a peace offering – a specially brewed herbal tea she claimed would help with morning sickness.

"Our cook, Maria, makes it. It's an old family recipe," she said, her smile a little too bright, a little too forced.

I looked at the steaming mug, its aroma faintly sweet and unfamiliar. My internal alarm bells, the ones honed by my unique intuition, screamed a silent warning.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Chloe," I said, taking the mug. "Thank you."

I pretended to take a sip, then set it down. "Actually, I'm feeling much better today."

Later, when she was gone, I discreetly poured a small amount of the tea into a vial I'd started keeping for just such occasions. I had a feeling my newfound "luck" would require vigilance. I also had a tiny, button-sized camera, disguised as a decorative pin, which I'd started wearing. It had captured Chloe's innocent offering.

I sent the tea sample to a private lab, using a discreet courier. The results came back two days later: the tea contained a significant concentration of pennyroyal and black cohosh – herbs known to induce miscarriage.

My blood ran cold. She hadn't just wished me ill; she had actively tried to harm my babies.

I didn't confront her immediately. Instead, I bided my time, letting her believe her little plot was undetected. I needed James to see her true nature, not just hear my accusations.

A week later, during a family dinner, I "accidentally" let a small, elegant box slip from my purse. It contained the lab report and a small USB drive with the video footage from the pin-camera.

"Oh, clumsy me," I said, bending to retrieve it.

James, ever attentive now, picked it up. "What's this, Emily?"

"Oh, nothing important, dear," I said, trying to take it back. "Just some... personal papers."

My feigned reluctance, of course, piqued his curiosity. Chloe watched, a flicker of unease in her eyes.

He opened the box. His expression shifted from curiosity to confusion, then to a gathering storm of disbelief and fury as he read the report and then, at my quiet suggestion, inserted the USB into his laptop there at the table.

The video played: Chloe, smiling sweetly, offering me the poisoned tea.

The silence in the dining room was absolute, broken only by Chloe's sudden, sharp intake of breath.

James's face was a terrifying mask of rage. He turned slowly to look at his daughter.

"Chloe?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"Daddy... I... it's not what it looks like!" she stammered, her face pale. "She's trying to frame me! That tea... it was just a normal herbal tea!"

"The lab report says otherwise, Chloe," James said, his voice like steel. "It says you tried to poison my sons."

Tears welled in Chloe's eyes. "No! I wouldn't! She's the one who's evil, trying to take my place!"

James slammed his fist on the table, making the crystal glasses jump. "Enough!"

He rose to his feet, towering over her. "You will go to your room. And you will pack your bags. You're going to a boarding school in Switzerland. Immediately."

Chloe stared at him, aghast. "No, Daddy, please! Don't send me away!"

"You tried to kill my heirs," James said, his voice trembling with suppressed violence. "Consider yourself lucky I'm only sending you away."

Margaret, who had watched the entire scene with a grim expression, finally spoke. "James is right, Chloe. Your actions are inexcusable."

Chloe burst into hysterical sobs, but James was unmoved. He called for the household staff to escort her upstairs.

As she was led away, still protesting her innocence, my gaze met hers. Her eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated hatred.

I felt a grim satisfaction. This was only the first step in her downfall.

Just as the household was beginning to settle from Chloe's dramatic departure, a new storm arrived in the form of Katherine, James's ex-wife and Chloe's mother.

She swept into the Winston mansion like a whirlwind, all designer clothes and calculated distress.

"James, darling!" she cried, rushing to him. "I heard about poor Chloe! How could you be so cruel to our daughter?"

Then, her eyes landed on me, my now visibly pregnant belly a clear statement.

A predatory gleam entered her eyes.

"And who is this?" she purred, though her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Before James could fully explain, Katherine dropped her own bombshell, clutching her stomach dramatically.

"James," she said, her voice laced with a tremor that was expertly faked. "There's something you need to know. I... I'm pregnant too. And James... it's yours."