Chapter 4

I stepped forward to slam the door, but she suddenly blocked the frame with her hand.

The heavy wood caught her bandaged wrist, causing her to let out a sharp gasp.

A second later, Vincent rushed over from the living room, his face pale. "What happened?"

Freya quickly hid her hand behind her back, looking down. "Nothing, really. I shouldn't have disturbed Fiona."

Vincent wrapped his arm around her shoulders, glaring at me with pure frustration. "Fiona, do you seriously have to do this?"

I stood inside the dark room while he held Freya in the brightly lit hallway.

In that exact moment, I realized the lines in this family had already been drawn.

I closed the door completely.

As the lock clicked into place, my phone buzzed with a text from Rosalie Finch: [The owner of the downtown liquor store is willing to testify.

[But he warned me that Freya already paid him a visit today.]

I stared at the screen as a cold chill crept into my fingers.

On the day of my follow-up appointment, Vincent didn't accompany me.

He claimed Freya had suffered a severe migraine in the middle of the night and he had to rush her to the hospital.

I took the bus to the women's clinic alone.

After waiting in lines, drawing blood, and doing scans, the doctor finally looked up from my chart with a frown. "Did your husband not come with you?"

"He's busy," I replied.

The doctor's tone softened with pity. "Your body took a massive hit from the miscarriage, and you need to avoid any emotional stress right now.

"Your future fertility could be seriously affected if you don't take your recovery seriously."

I took the report, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the paper.

Outside the clinic, I spotted Vincent guiding Freya out of the adjacent outpatient building.

She was clutching a prescription bag, his tailored coat draped over her shoulders.

Vincent leaned down to gently adjust her scarf against the wind, neither of them noticing me standing near the exit.

"Vincent," Freya murmured. "If Fiona finds out you came to my checkup, is she gonna freak out again?"

Vincent sounded exhausted. "She's in a dark place right now. I'm just letting it slide. I'm hurting over losing the baby, too."

"But she acts like I stole you from her," Freya said softly.

Vincent went quiet. "You're my brother's widow. It's my job to look out for you."

Freya looked up at him. "Is it really just about him?"

Vincent didn't answer.

I stood behind the pillar, and suddenly, the report in my hand felt like it weighed a ton.

*****

When I got home, Adeline was lounging on the couch on a call.

She hung up the second I walked in. "Fiona, perfect timing. We're hosting a small memorial dinner for your brother-in-law this weekend.

I froze halfway through taking off my coat. "Why not?"

Adeline rolled her eyes like it was obvious. "Freya can't handle the stress right now. You know how people gossip. Bringing it up will just make her feel guilty. Suck it up."

"I lost my baby. I'm not even allowed to talk about it?"

"You're young," Adeline frowned. "You can have another kid. Freya lost her husband. You have it a hell of a lot better than she does."

I let out a dry laugh.

Adeline's face darkened.

Adeline's face darkened. "What's so funny?"

I said, "I'm just laughing at how the King family's luck always comes at someone else's expense."

Vincent walked in right then, guiding Freya by the arm.

As he heard my comment, his brow furrowed. "Fiona, drop the attitude."

Freya tugged his sleeve. "Vincent, don't be mad. She's grieving."

I stared dead at her. "Aren't you grieving too? Didn't you say you're losing sleep every night?

"How did you find the energy to visit the corner liquor store owner?"

The color drained from Freya's face.

Vincent turned to me. "What are you digging into now?"

"Figuring out why I was the only one standing on that broken staircase that night."

Freya burst into tears right on cue. "Fiona, what are you implying? You think I set you up?"

Vincent's voice turned ice cold. "Fiona, the stairs collapsing was a freak accident. The cops confirmed it was structural rot. Stop weaponizing your grief."

I shoved the medical report into my purse. "The cops never said it was an accident. They said it's an active investigation."

Adeline slammed her hand on the coffee table. "Investigate what? Are you seriously trying to drag our family name through the mud on the news?"

Right as she finished yelling, the living room TV auto-played a trending local reel.

The headline was blinding. [Pregnant Woman Blames Sister-in-Law for Abandoned Building Accident!]

On screen, Freya sat on the edge of a hospital bed. She looked pale and fragile with her wrist wrapped in gauze.

She choked back tears for the camera. "I know Fiona blames me. I'm heartbroken she lost her baby. But I swear I didn't mean to drag her to that old building."

The comments rolled in fast.

[Being pregnant doesn't give you a free pass to bully a widow.]