Chapter 4

The day of the 500th transformation arrived. Mark threw a lavish "family" dinner at the penthouse. His parents were there, along with Emily's, and a few of Innovate Global's most loyal board members. Emily, heavily pregnant and glowing, was the center of attention. I was the ghost at the feast, seated at the far end of the table.

During a toast to the future heir, Mark's father, a cold and severe man, turned his attention to me.

"And Ava," he said, his voice carrying across the silent table. "We are all so grateful for your... understanding in this delicate matter."

It wasn't a compliment, it was a public branding. The compliant, demoted wife.

Later, as I was helping a server clear some plates, my hand brushed against a silver platter. A wave of pure, unadulterated hatred for everyone in that room surged through me. The platter in my hand instantly solidified into heavy, cold gold. Number 500.

I quickly hid it, but Emily saw. Her eyes widened, and she immediately went to Mark. A moment later, he cornered me in the kitchen.

Instead of the gentle coaxing I expected, his face was a mask of fury. He dragged me back into the dining room, holding the golden platter for everyone to see.

"Look at this!" he announced, his voice booming. "Do you see what she's doing? She's flaunting it! Trying to remind everyone of the... debt I owe her. She's trying to upset Emily, to put stress on the baby!"

Emily began to cry, clutching her stomach. "Mark, don't. She didn't mean it." Her performance was flawless. The victim, always the victim.

Mark's mother walked over to me, her face pinched with disapproval. "You are a selfish, spiteful girl, Ava. After everything Mark has done for you, keeping you in this beautiful home, this is how you repay him?"

They were all staring at me, their faces a mixture of pity and contempt. Mark had framed me perfectly.

I didn't say a word. I just stood there, my head bowed, my hands clenched at my sides. I let their accusations wash over me. Inside, I felt a strange calm. A chilling certainty. Their condemnation was just more fuel for the fire. My resolve had never been stronger.

Mark decreed my punishment on the spot. I was to be confined to my rooms for a week. No phone, no contact with the outside world. It was a public shaming, a demonstration of his control.

I endured it silently. The staff brought my meals on trays, their eyes avoiding mine. I spent the time meditating, focusing my energy, honing the darkness I would pour into the wish. I was a prisoner, but my mind was free, and it was lethal.

Mark and Emily carried on as if I didn't exist. I could hear their laughter from the main living area, the sound of them entertaining guests. They were celebrating their impending parenthood, completely oblivious to the storm gathering right under their roof.

On the final night of my confinement, Mark came to my room. He brought a tray of food himself.

"The board was impressed with how I handled that," he said, not a hint of apology in his tone. "It showed I'm not afraid to make tough decisions, even in my personal life."

He sat on the edge of my bed. "Ava, I know this has been hard. But it's almost over. Tomorrow, you'll make the wish. And everything will be fine. We can be a family. A different kind of family, but a family nonetheless."

His hypocrisy was breathtaking. He was trying to sound like a peacemaker after publicly crucifying me.

I looked at him and nodded meekly. "I understand, Mark."

He left, satisfied. I waited until I heard the main door close before I allowed myself to feel the full weight of what was happening. I placed a hand on my own stomach. For weeks, I had been feeling... off. A quiet, persistent nausea. A deep fatigue that the drugs couldn't account for.

I knew, with a certainty that was both terrifying and electrifying, that I was pregnant.

And Mark had no idea.