Chapter 3

Kalea White POV:

For a fleeting second, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Kaden's face. He froze, his eyes wide.

Then, he threw his head back and let out a wild, cackling laugh that echoed off the high ceilings. It was the sound of madness.

"Angus?" he finally gasped, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "You really are a desperate, lying bitch. You couldn't have picked a worse person to name."

He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his breath hot and sour. "Everyone knows, Kalea. Everyone. My brother is sterile. The car accident ten years ago saw to that. He's been a walking dead man ever since, incapable of producing an heir. I," he jabbed a thumb at his chest, "am the only one who can carry on the Manning bloodline."

Chelsey nodded eagerly, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He's right. How dare you drag a good man like Angus into your filthy lies? He' s given you shelter, and this is how you repay him? By claiming your bastard is his?"

I saw it then. Their minds were closed, sealed shut by years of public knowledge and their own desperate greed. Arguing was pointless. It was like reasoning with a hurricane. It would only make them angrier, more violent.

My only priority was my baby. I had to survive. I had to protect him.

I stopped struggling, letting my body go limp on the floor. "It's true," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "It's Angus's child."

I had one last, desperate idea. "Let me... let me call him. Let me call Angus. He'll tell you himself."

A sliver of hope ignited in my chest. If I could just get Angus on the phone, this nightmare would end. He would descend on them with the full force of his quiet fury, and they would be nothing more than dust.

I fumbled for the pocket of my dress, my fingers closing around the cool metal of my phone.

Before I could pull it out, Kaden's foot lashed out, kicking the phone from my grasp. It skittered across the marble floor.

"I don't think so," he sneered. "You're not calling anyone. You're not going to get my brother to cover for you so you can get your hands on my money."

He walked over to the phone and brought his heel down on it with a sickening crunch. The screen spiderwebbed, then went black.

My hope shattered along with it.

"No," I pleaded, shaking my head as the last vestige of my strength drained away. "It's not about the money. I don't want any of it. Just... just let me go."

But they weren't listening. They were lost in their own twisted narrative.

Chelsey's eyes narrowed, a cruel realization dawning on her face. "She's not going to give up, Kaden. As long as that thing is inside her, she'll keep fighting for it. She'll keep trying to pass it off as a Manning."

She looked down at her foot, still poised over my stomach. Then she looked at Kaden, a silent, vicious question passing between them.

He gave a sharp, decisive nod.

The red-soled stiletto descended. The pointed heel drove into my abdomen with brutal, calculated force.

A scream, primal and raw, tore from my throat. It was a sound of agony beyond anything I had ever known. A fire erupted in my womb, a tearing, shredding pain that made the blow to my face and the crushed bones in my hand feel like distant memories.

Beneath the heel, I felt a frantic, terrified flutter. My baby. My son. He was thrashing, convulsing in a silent agony of his own.

My vision tunneled. The gilded ceiling, the cruel faces, it all faded to a pinpoint of black. All that existed was the pain and the desperate, fading movements of my child.

I raised my head, my eyes locking with Chelsey's. "Please," I begged, the word a broken sob. "Don't kill my baby. I'll do anything."

Chelsey smiled, a slow, triumphant curve of her lips. "Anything?" she purred.

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