Chapter 2

Juliette Edwards POV:

He thought I was broken. He was right. But a broken thing can be reforged into something much sharper. Tonight, the weak, trusting girl he knew had been burned away, and from the ashes, a woman cold with purpose was born.

He wanted to play a game? Fine. I would play it better.

I let out a shaky breath, a calculated performance of distress. I leaned into his hold, allowing my head to rest against his chest, right over the heart that I now knew was hollow.

"I' m okay," I whispered, my voice intentionally hoarse. "Just... tired."

The tension in his shoulders eased. I felt it, the subtle relaxation of a man who believed his lie had been successfully delivered.

"You need to rest," he said softly, his hand stroking my back. "I' ll run you a hot bath. You can' t afford to get sick right now."

No, I can' t, I thought, a bitter chill running through me. There' s far too much to do. In three weeks, at the annual Music Guild Gala, Brittany was scheduled to perform. It was the night they planned to unveil my masterpiece as her own. It was the night I was going to burn their world to the ground.

Jake helped me to my feet and led me to the bathroom, his every move a study in devoted care. At the hospital the next morning for my scheduled prenatal check-up, he was the image of the perfect, doting fiancé.

He held my hand during the ultrasound. He asked the doctor a dozen questions about nutrition and sleep schedules.

"He' s going to be a wonderful father," the nurse commented with a smile as she handed me a tissue to wipe the gel from my stomach. "So attentive."

Jake just smiled, squeezing my hand as he helped me sit up. "I can' t wait to meet our little one," he said, his voice thick with an emotion that was utterly fake.

We were leaving the clinic when I saw her. Brittany. She was standing near the elevators, looking radiant in a cream-colored cashmere dress that probably cost more than my first car. Her hand was resting protectively on her own slightly rounded stomach.

She lit up when she saw Jake, a triumphant, possessive glint in her eyes. It was a look I' d seen a thousand times, but only now understood.

I' d always known she was pregnant, of course. Her due date was only a month after mine. She' d timed it perfectly, another little drama to ensure all eyes were on her.

She walked towards us, her hips swaying. "There you are! I was just about to call."

She reached out to touch my arm, a gesture of sisterly affection. "How are you feeling, Juju? You look a little pale."

I pulled my arm away before her fingers could make contact. My skin crawled at the thought of her touch.

Brittany' s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered, turning her pout on Jake. "She' s being moody again."

I felt a sudden wave of dizziness, real this time, and swayed on my feet. I clutched my stomach, my breath catching in my throat.

"My stomach..." I moaned, letting my eyes flutter shut. "It hurts."

Brittany' s face went stiff.

Jake' s reaction was instantaneous. He was at my side in a second, his arm securely around my waist.

"What is it? What' s wrong?" he asked, his voice tight with alarm. He steered me towards a nearby bench. "Sit down. I' ll get the doctor."

He was all panicked concern, but as he settled me onto the bench, I saw his eyes dart over to Brittany, a flicker of shared anxiety passing between them. He cared about this baby, not because it was ours, but because it was a tool, a chain to bind me to him and his plans.

"I just need a minute," I said, my voice weak. "Please, just... let me sit here alone for a second. The attention is making it worse."

Jake hesitated, torn. "I don' t want to leave you."

"I' ll be fine. Five minutes," I insisted, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

Reluctantly, he nodded. He gave my shoulder a final, reassuring squeeze before backing away.

The moment I was sure he was out of earshot, my eyes snapped open. I watched as he went straight to Brittany, his back to me. I was too far away to hear their words, but their body language screamed the truth.

He reached out, his hand gently stroking her arm, his expression a mixture of reassurance and frustration.

Brittany was complaining, her arms crossed petulantly over her chest. "She' s doing this on purpose, Jake. She knows I hate seeing her."

"Shh, Brit, calm down," he murmured, his voice a low placating rumble. "It' s just for a little while longer. Once the award is secured and the baby comes..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened it, and even from this distance, I could see the sparkle of diamonds. It was a delicate bracelet, one I recognized from a jewelry store window we' d passed last week. I had admired it. He' d told me it was too extravagant.

He fastened the bracelet around her wrist, his touch lingering.

Brittany' s pout melted away, replaced by a smug smile. "It' s beautiful. I bet it cost a fortune. This will look amazing with my gala dress. Do you think I should go with the red one or the emerald?"

My blood ran cold. The song I wrote, the masterpiece he was stealing, was paying for the diamonds on my sister' s wrist. My talent was funding their future.

I stood up, my movements stiff, and walked away without a backward glance.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers steady as I dialed a number.

"Yes, hello," I said, my voice clear and calm. "I' d like to confirm my appointment for tomorrow at ten a.m. The one for the... procedure."

"Juliette?" Jake' s voice, sharp with confusion, came from behind me. "Who are you talking to?"

I turned slowly, a serene smile spreading across my face. I held his gaze as I spoke into the phone.

"That' s right," I said, my voice sweet as poison. "And while I' m there, I was hoping to get a plaster mold done of my belly. It' s for a keepsake. A little memento of a time I' d rather not forget."