I didn't want to go, but Sterling insisted. He ushered me into the car, insisting the fresh air would do me good.

It was his mother, Beatrice Hawthorne's, annual charity gala.

To my surprise, Cassidy was there.

She wore a brand-new couture gown, the waistline cinched just so, accentuating her slightly bulging abdomen.

Beatrice’s eyes never left that belly all evening, her joy practically overflowing.

She held Cassidy's hand, fussed over her, and personally instructed the staff to prepare a special non-alcoholic mocktail and warm appetizers for her.

Like me, Cassidy was also carrying a child whose father was "unknown."

Before, I could never understand why Beatrice doted on Cassidy while treating me with such disdain.

Now I understood.

As a classic Boston Brahmin matriarch, Beatrice had likely known about Sterling and Cassidy's affair all along.

The moment Beatrice saw me, the smile vanished from her face.

Seeing this, Cassidy let out an exaggerated gasp.

She immediately stood, lowered her head, and said timidly, "Juliet, I know I come from a humble background and don't deserve to be here. Please don't be angry. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I'll leave right away."

What I once mistook for genuine consideration, I now recognized as the smug smirk she wore beneath a mask of humility.

Beatrice shot to her feet, ready to scold me. "This is my gala. I'll invite whomever I please. Cassidy is a sweet, kind girl. If you dare bully her, you can get out of this house right now!"

Cassidy made a show of trying to smooth things over, but I could feel the triumph radiating from her.

It took every ounce of my strength to remain composed.

I offered her a smile so calm it surprised even me.

"I didn't come for you, Cassidy. I came for Sterling's mother."

Sterling's arm wrapped around my waist, his expression gentle but his grip tense.

"Darling, just enjoy yourself tonight. I had the chef prepare all your favorite dishes."

After we sat down, Beatrice kept piling food onto Cassidy's plate, while mine remained conspicuously empty.

I didn't care. I had no appetite.

When I excused myself to the restroom, my assistant, Maya, found me.

"Mrs. Monroe," she whispered, "I heard from the staff that Beatrice has a room for Ms. Shaw upstairs. She's been living here for two months! Beatrice has even been telling people that the baby is Mr. Hawthorne's. Everyone in their circle knows."

I stared at Maya, feeling another piece of me crack and fall away.

But I still forced a smile.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Maya."

When I returned to the hall, Cassidy was chatting with Beatrice about baby names.

The moment she saw me, she seamlessly pivoted.

"Juliet, I heard you haven't been sleeping well. I found this wonderful essential oil—lavender and chamomile. Should I have some sent to your room?"

I met her gaze, and for the first time, I felt nothing.

No anger, no jealousy, no sadness. Just a vast, empty void.

"No, thank you," I said.

Maya couldn't stand it.

Faking a stumble, she lunged forward, straight into Cassidy. An expensive vase Cassidy had been showing off to a guest slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

Cassidy screamed, clutching her stomach and staggering back.

Instinctively, Sterling swept Cassidy into his arms.

This man, who moments ago had been gently telling me to enjoy the gala, now glared at Maya, his voice a low snarl. "Are you blind? If anything happens to Cassidy's child, I'll kill you!"

It wasn't just Maya who turned pale with fright.

I was frozen to the spot, the blood in my veins turning to ice.

For a split second, the world went silent.

Sterling finally realized his mistake.

He hurriedly let go of Cassidy and reached for me.

"Julie, it's not what you think..."

I flinched away from his touch and fled the banquet hall.

Sterling didn't follow. I didn't go far, stopping just out of sight from the entrance.

The moment I was gone, the room erupted in cheerful laughter.

"I've prepared a trust fund for the baby. Here, Cassidy, for my first grandchild."

"Sterling, that sullied woman isn't worthy of you. A pure, kind girl like Cassidy is a rare find. You must cherish her."

"You should have a few more while you're young."

Sterling's voice replied with a laugh, "I know, Mom. I'll give you what you want."

Cassidy chimed in sweetly, "As long as Sterling is willing, Mrs. Beatrice, I'll have as many children as he desires."

Every word was a dagger twisting in my gut.

Even from outside, their voices reached me, cruel and clear.

I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome anchor to reality.

The door behind me opened, and Sterling appeared.

"Julie, come back inside. It's cold out here."

His voice was gentle, as if nothing had happened.

I turned to face him.

For a moment, I almost wavered.

Almost.

But then his phone rang, the screen flashing with a single name: Cass.

"Go on," I whispered. "Answer it."

He hesitated for a moment, then retreated back inside without another word.

I stood alone in the cold night wind, gazing at the warm, mocking glow from the window.

In that moment, something inside me shattered. For good.

On the way home, Sterling reached over and took my hand.

I let him take it, my own fingers lying limp and lifeless in his grasp.

"Julie, you know how Mom is. She speaks without thinking. Don't take it to heart."

I stared at my ghostly reflection in the window.

"I know."

"And about Cassidy—"

"I said I know," I repeated, my voice flat.

He fell silent.

When we got home, I went straight to the wine cellar in the basement—the place in this house that terrified me most.

It was dark, cold, and suffocating.

But I needed to feel something, anything other than this unbearable numbness.