Chapter 3

The days that followed were a blur of carefully curated torture.

Victoria Davenport, or someone acting on her behalf, started sending things to the apartment.

Not to my mailbox, but delivered by anonymous messenger services, always when Ethan wasn't there.

Photos.

Ethan and Victoria at a gallery opening, his hand on the small of her back, a polite smile on his face.

Ethan and Victoria at a charity dinner, laughing with other rich, beautiful people. They looked like the perfect power couple.

Sometimes, short video clips. Ethan toasting Victoria at an intimate family dinner. Ethan helping Victoria into a car, his expression unreadable.

My fingers would tremble as I looked at them.

At first, the pain was sharp, a fresh wound every time.

Then, a strange numbness set in. I could look at the images, the moving pictures, and feel... distant.

It was as if I were watching a movie about someone else's life.

I knew it was Victoria. The cruelty was too precise, too personal. She wanted me to see. She wanted me to suffer.

One morning, a small, elegant envelope arrived. Inside, a simple card.

"Heard you weren't feeling well. Victoria thought you might like to see this. She's so excited."

Tucked inside was an ultrasound picture. A tiny, grainy image.

Below it, in Victoria's looping script: "Our little miracle."

My breath hitched. Our.

This was different. This wasn't just a society photo. This was real. This was the heir they demanded.

Then, a message arrived on a burner phone I found slipped under my door.

"Sarah, Victoria has something of yours. She wants to return it. Meet her at the little cafe near the park, the one you and Ethan used to go to. Tomorrow. Noon."

Something of mine? What could Victoria possibly have that belonged to me?

My grandmother's locket.

My most cherished possession. An antique silver locket, passed down through generations. Ethan had admired it, said it was as unique and special as I was.

How did Victoria get it? Ethan. It had to be Ethan.

A desperate, cold anger surged through me. I had to get it back.

The next day, I was at the cafe. It was a place filled with memories, bittersweet now.

Victoria arrived, impeccably dressed, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

She didn't offer a greeting.

"You look... tired," she said, her eyes sweeping over me with disdain. "City life not agreeing with you?"

"Where is it?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Impatient, aren't we?" She sipped her tea. "Ethan felt it was best if I held onto it for a while. For safekeeping."

Lies. All lies.

"He said you were being... emotional. Unstable." Her voice was soft, laced with mock concern. "He worried you might lose it."

"Give it to me, Victoria."

She finally reached into her purse and pulled out the locket. It glinted in the cafe light. My locket.

She dangled it in front of me.

"It's quite... quaint," she said. "Though hardly a Montgomery heirloom, is it?"

"It's mine."

"Of course." She smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "But first, a small matter of an apology."

"Apology? For what?"

"For causing Ethan so much distress. For being an embarrassment. You need to understand your place, Sarah. You're a temporary diversion. Nothing more."

My hands clenched into fists. "Give me my locket."

"Apologize," she insisted. "Publicly. Here. Now. Tell me you understand you'll never be Mrs. Montgomery. Tell me you'll disappear quietly when the time comes."

I stared at her, at the locket swinging gently from her fingers. My grandmother's face, her love, her legacy, all tied up in that piece of silver.

I couldn't. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"No," I said.

Victoria's smile vanished. Her eyes turned to ice.

"Suit yourself."

And then, with a deliberate, almost casual movement, she opened her fingers.

The locket fell.

It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack.

SMASH.

The sound echoed in the suddenly silent cafe.

I stared at the pieces of shattered silver, my grandmother's locket, destroyed.

Before I could even react, Charles and Eleanor Montgomery walked into the cafe. Right on cue.

Victoria let out a small, theatrical gasp. She clutched her stomach.

"Oh! Oh, my baby!" she cried, her eyes wide with feigned terror. "She attacked me! Sarah attacked me! She tried to... to hurt the baby!"

She pointed a trembling finger at me. "She was screaming, trying to rip something from me! She's unhinged!"

Charles Montgomery's face was a mask of fury. Eleanor's was cold contempt.

"How dare you?" Charles thundered, striding towards me.

He raised his hand.

SLAP.

The force of it sent me stumbling back. My cheek burned. Tears sprang to my eyes, tears of pain and outrage.

"You vile creature!" Eleanor hissed. "You will not threaten my grandchild!"

They dragged me out of the cafe, their words like whips. "Troublemaker." "Unstable." "Gold-digger."

Ethan arrived then, drawn by the commotion. He saw Victoria, pale and seemingly distressed, being comforted by his mother. He saw his father, radiating anger.

He saw me, holding my burning cheek, the shattered pieces of my locket on the floor.

His eyes met mine for a fleeting second. I saw confusion, then a hardening.

He went to Victoria's side. "What happened? Are you alright?"

His parents told him their version. Sarah, hysterical. Sarah, violent. Sarah, a threat.

He looked at me, his face a mask of torment and something else... disappointment?

"Sarah," he said, his voice low, strained. "What did you do?"

He didn't even ask if I was okay.

My last bit of hope, the tiny ember I'd been nursing, died.

I started to laugh. A bitter, broken sound.

"Foolish," I whispered to myself, the word catching in my throat. "So foolish."

They took me back to one of the lesser Montgomery properties, a guesthouse far from the main house.

Charles Montgomery informed me I was not to leave. Guards were posted.

Later, Ethan came. His face was drawn.

"They were furious, Sarah," he said. "Victoria... she says you pushed her. That you were after the locket."

"She smashed it, Ethan. Your mother gave it to her. She smashed it in front of me."

He sighed, a sound of deep weariness. "Victoria is pregnant. We have to be careful. My mother is... protective."

"And you believe them?"

He looked away. "It doesn't matter what I believe right now. We need to keep things calm. For the baby. For us."

He didn't touch me. He didn't offer comfort.

"There was nothing I could do," he said, his voice flat. "Just wait. This will pass."

Wait. Always wait.

I was waiting for a man who no longer existed. Or perhaps, never had.

The public humiliation, the destruction of my locket, Ethan's silence. It was a calculated breaking.

And I was breaking.