Chapter 3

Vince rushed in. The moment he saw me slumped on the floor with blood pooling at his feet and the needle yanked out on the bed, his face twisted into a dark, ugly expression.

He strode over and grabbed my arm hard. "Lizzie! Are you insane? Do you even know what you're doing?"

His grip hurt, but I didn't fight back.

I just looked up at him—at that face filled with fake concern and righteous anger—and suddenly, I laughed.

"What am I doing? Vince, maybe you should be asking yourself what you're doing." I pointed at the IV bag still hanging on the stand. "What's in that? Nutrients? You really think I'm that stupid, huh?"

My voice rose, shaking with fury. "What's actually in it? Why are you trying to kill our child?"

For a moment, Vince froze. Panic flickered in his eyes, then melted into a look of forced pain. "Lizzie, calm down. It's not what you think."

He tried to pull me into a hug, but I shoved him away. "Not what I think? Then what is it, huh? Go on, tell me!"

From the doorway, Trista's cold voice cut in. "Vince, why are you wasting your breath on her? If she wants to die, then let her—"

"Mom!" Vince snapped, shooting her a warning glare.

Trista's face darkened. Though she shut her mouth, the hatred in her eyes didn't fade.

Vince turned back to me, his expression full of sorrow.

He knelt down and took my trembling hand, his voice low and hoarse. "Lizzie, I'm sorry. I've been hiding something from you. We're having twins."

My heart skipped a beat.

"But..." He took a shaky breath, eyes reddening. "The Carline family used advanced genetic testing. We found out the boy has a severe congenital heart defect.

"The doctors said he wouldn't live past his first birthday. Worse, his presence in the womb could harm the healthy baby—and even put your life at risk.

"That's why we decided to only keep the healthy one."

He said it through tears, but I could see the satisfaction buried deep in his eyes.

[He's lying. My heartbeat was steady and sure. He's just using this as an excuse to get rid of me.]

The harsh voice was weak but full of confidence.

A chill crept through me as I watched Vince spin his lie without blinking.

I bowed my head, letting my shoulders tremble, pretending to sob.

"Really? Our baby is—" My voice broke, and I started crying harder, my whole body shaking.

Vince quickly wrapped his arms around me, patting my back gently. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I didn't want to hurt you; that's why I kept it from you. This is for you—and for our healthy baby."

I buried my face against his chest, but through the tears, I caught sight of Trista in the doorway. The tight lines on her face finally eased, and she even gave Fletcher a subtle nod.

They all thought I believed them.

I kept crying those "grief-stricken" tears, but inside, my mind was racing.

A heart defect? What a lousy excuse.

But why make up something so sloppy? Why were they so desperate to get rid of the boy and keep the girl?

[Brother, are you really going to die?] the soft, innocent voice asked, full of sadness.

[Don't listen to his crap,] the harsher voice replied, impatient but trying to sound reassuring. [We're fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. They're not scared I'm sick. They're scared of me.]

Scared of him? Why would they fear an unborn baby?

There had to be something much bigger behind all of this.

*****

From that day on, I changed.

I stopped fighting. I stopped refusing food. I even started playing along with Trista and the nutritionist.

When Trista handed me soup, I'd smile sweetly and drink it—then go to the bathroom and throw it all up.

When Vince came by, I'd ask about his day, pretending to be the wife who'd finally accepted "reality" and decided to live for the sake of her surviving child.

My obedience made them relax.

They still kept an eye on me, but not as tightly as before.

Finally, I had room to breathe—and to think.

I started paying attention to the servants' gossip around the villa.

They never dared talk openly about family matters, but from the bits and pieces I overheard, I managed to piece something together.

"I heard Mr. Howell Carline's family rule was really strange."

"I know, right? That's why his oldest son—"

"Shh! Don't let Mrs. Carline hear you."

Howell Carline's family rule? Oldest son?

Those two phrases stuck in my head.

Vince was supposed to be the Carline family's only son. So who was this oldest son?

I needed answers—someone who could tell me everything.

That was when I thought of Talia Ward.

Talia had served the Carline family for nearly forty years. She'd watched Vince grow up.

Not long ago, Trista had "kindly" let her retire due to old age, sending her back to her hometown.

Trista probably thought an old servant out of the picture couldn't stir up any trouble.

But I remembered Talia had a grandson who'd just gotten into college—and she'd always struggled to pay his tuition.

That gave me an opening. When the new maid dozed off one afternoon, I sneaked into Vince's study.

Using his computer, I logged onto a dark site I'd memorized long ago—one that specialized in shady transactions.

I offered up a diamond earring I'd hidden as payment and posted a job: find Talia Ward and get her on a call with me.