I'd spent all morning waiting in line for a VIP room at the private obstetrics hospital. Now the person lying in my bed was Alma Harding, my husband's neighbor, nursing a sprained ankle.

William Stephens stood and tucked the blanket around Alma himself, then turned to me with a frown. "Alma's ankle is too swollen for her to sit up. What's the big deal if she borrows your bed for a bit? She got hurt saving my life years ago. Taking care of her is the least I can do. You're just here for a routine checkup. Go sit on one of the benches in the hallway and stop making a scene."

On the bed, Alma cradled her ankle, her smile innocent and timid.

I looked down at the swell of my belly. Then I tugged at the corner of my mouth and tore the ultrasound requisition form in my hands to shreds.

"You're right, Mr. Stephens. Benches are perfectly fine. So I think I'll find a father for this baby who actually gives a damn about his pregnant wife. As for this hospital, which happens to be owned by my private medical consortium, security will be throwing both of you out on the street momentarily."

——

"Seraphina Ashford, how long are you going to keep this up?"

William frowned, adjusting his cufflinks, his tone dripping with impatience.

He shoved a cup of hot milk he'd just bought into my hands. That was his usual move: slap you first, then offer you a piece of candy.

"I'm not 'keeping up' anything. I'm taking back what's mine." I didn't accept the milk. I let it fall to the floor.

I pressed a hand against my aching lower back and pointed at the door. "Take your precious neighbor and get out."

"Please don't be upset, Seraphina. This is all my fault."

Alma struggled to sit up, her eyes reddening instantly, her voice thin and pitiful.

"My foot just hurt so badly, and William saw I couldn't stand, so he let me come in to rest for a minute. I had no idea you'd been waiting all morning for this room. I'll leave right now..."

She made a show of climbing off the bed. The moment her toes grazed the floor, she let out a sharp whimper and collapsed straight into William's arms.

William caught her without hesitation, his face going completely dark.

"Alma, you have an old injury. Stay put and don't move!"

When he turned back to me, his eyes were full of blame.

"Seraphina, look at yourself. Petty. Vicious. Is this how a Stephens wife behaves? When the Stephens family was at its lowest, Alma took that car accident for me. She has permanent damage in that foot because of me! I owe her my life. What's wrong with letting her lie in your room for half an hour?"

"Behave?" I let out a short laugh. My stomach churned. "William, I'm pregnant. I waited four hours in line. My legs are so swollen I can't even fit into my shoes. You gave my spot to your dear neighbor, and you want to lecture me about how I behave?"

"The hallway out there is plenty wide. You can sit anywhere." William waved his hand dismissively. "A prenatal checkup is just routine. Stop using the baby as leverage against me. I booked you a specialist appointment. I bought you milk. What more do you want?"

I looked at William standing there, so sure he was right about everything, and the last trace of warmth inside me went cold.

This was the man I'd hidden my identity for. The man I'd married and quietly propped up for five years.

He could be tender sometimes. He'd stay up all night holding my hair back when the morning sickness was at its worst.

But the second Alma called, he wouldn't think twice about leaving me alone on a rainy night.

He always said he loved me. But he could never let go of what he called his "debt."

"Fine. Since you think the hallway is so spacious, then you two can wait out there."

I pressed the call button on the wall. My voice gave nothing away.

The head nurse pushed open the door, looked at me, then at William, her expression caught somewhere between a rock and a hard place.

"Mrs. Stephens, this... Mr. Stephens is a VIP guest of our hospital, and Miss Harding is an injured patient..."

I knew what I looked like to them. A bitter housewife lounging around at home, surviving on the allowance William Stephens deigned to give her.

I didn't argue. Didn't make a scene. I just looked at him, steady and silent.

"No need to call security." I turned, nudging the spilled cup of milk aside with my foot. "William, the room is yours. But remember this: what you took from me today, you'll beg me to give back someday. And when that day comes, I won't want it anymore."

"Seraphina, what kind of nonsense are you spouting now?" William stepped forward, reaching for my wrist. "Stop embarrassing yourself and come home with me. Don't force me to lose my temper in front of strangers."

I stepped back, out of his reach.

"Don't touch me. You disgust me."

His hand froze in midair. Something flickered in his eyes, a flash of shock, quickly swallowed by anger.

"Fine, Seraphina. You've got nerve. Walk out that door today, and I'll cancel every single supplementary credit card under your name. Let's see how long a pregnant woman with a belly that big survives without the Stephens family behind her."

Behind him, Alma Harding's lips curled into a smug little smile.

I didn't spare either of them another glance. I pulled my coat tight around myself, pushed open the door, and stepped into the cold draft of the corridor.

I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in five years.

It rang once. Just once.

A low, rough voice answered on the other end, tight with restraint.

"Quinn. Come get me," I said quietly.

"Miss Ashford." His voice caught, almost imperceptibly. "You're finally letting me bring you home."

The wind outside the hospital was brutal.

A black Maybach glided to a stop in front of me without a sound.

The door opened, and a tall man in a long black coat stepped out, crossing the distance between us in quick strides.

His features were sharp, severe. A faint scar traced the corner of his right eye, a souvenir from the time he'd thrown himself between me and danger.

Quinn Harding.

An orphan the Ashford family had taken in. He'd grown up at my side since we were children.

The outside world believed I was the Ashfords' only daughter. They had no idea that while my father was still alive, he'd personally shaped Quinn into the family's sharpest blade.

He was my sworn brother in name. In truth, he was my most loyal protector.

Five years ago, when I'd insisted on leaving home for William, Quinn had knelt in the rain all night. All it earned him was a single sentence from me: Don't follow me.

Now here he was. Just like back then. At my side the moment I called.

"Miss Ashford, how did you get this thin?" He strode forward and shrugged off his coat, still warm from his body, draping it over my shoulders.

His gaze dropped to my swollen belly, then lifted to my pale face. The look in his eyes turned cold enough to kill.

"Quinn, I'm fine." I sank into the back seat, letting my head fall against the leather. "Take me back to the estate."

The car pulled smoothly away from the hospital.

The cabin was quiet. Then Quinn's phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen and let out a soft, humorless laugh.

"Stephens canceled your credit cards. He also froze that savings account you'd been using as a cover identity." Quinn's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. "He even put the word out to every hotel in Crestfield: anyone who takes you in is making an enemy of the Stephens Group."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

William Stephens was nothing if not controlling.

He thought cutting off my money would send me crawling back to the mansion the way I had for the past five years, ready to apologize, maybe even pour tea for Alma Harding like a servant.

"He's always believed those few thousand dollars a month in living expenses were some kind of gift he was graciously bestowing on me."

I closed my eyes. "Let him."

"Miss Ashford, say the word." Quinn's voice held no warmth at all. "The Stephens Group will be gone from Crestfield by tonight."

"No. That would be letting him off too easy." I opened my eyes, my gaze ice-cold. "Stephens Group is going public next month on the back of my neural degeneration patent. I want him standing at the very top before he watches everything he has shatter to pieces."

Over the next few days, I stayed at the Ashford family's private estate on the outskirts of the city, resting for the baby's sake.

William didn't come looking for me.

He'd decided that a pregnant woman with no money couldn't hold out for long.

Instead, he started interacting with Alma on social media constantly. Paparazzi even caught him taking her to try on jewelry.

Then, on the third day, Director Jonathan Lambert called Quinn, his voice panicked.

"Mr. Harding, we have a problem! Mr. Stephens got his hands on one of Director Ashford's prenatal reports from somewhere and posted it online. He's claiming the baby has severe genetic defects. That it's deformed!"

I shot to my feet. The room tilted.

"Genetic defects? That's impossible!"

My prenatal records had been handled exclusively through Quinn. The baby was perfectly healthy.

Quinn pulled up his tablet immediately.

The top trending story read: Stephens Group CEO in Tearful Confession: Socialite Wife Concealed Deformed Fetus to Secure Family Fortune.

In the video, William faced the camera looking haggard, Alma sniffling beside him.

William's voice was heavy with grief. "I've been looking forward to this child's birth more than anything. But I never imagined that my wife, Seraphina Ashford, would bribe doctors to conceal severe genetic defects, all to protect her position in the Stephens family. Miss Harding only tried to convince her to face reality, and Seraphina pushed her, causing her old injuries to flare up. As a father, I cannot allow a life destined for suffering to be brought into this world as a bargaining chip."

Alma let her tears fall right on cue. "Seraphina, please, just stop. The baby is innocent. You can't ruin a child's entire life for wealth and status."

The comments section exploded. The entire internet was calling me a heartless, money-grubbing monster who'd stop at nothing.

I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit deep into my palms.

William. He was willing to weaponize his own flesh and blood just to rehabilitate Alma's image. Just to smoke me out.

"Miss Ashford." Quinn steadied me as I nearly lost my footing, his eyes dark. "The report was forged. Alma hired someone to fabricate it. William wanted to protect Stephens Group's reputation ahead of the IPO, so he not only believed it, he seized the opportunity to pin everything on you."

"Good." I laughed, though there was nothing funny about it. My hand rested on my belly. "If they want to back me into a corner, then let's give them exactly what they're asking for. Quinn, make the arrangements. Tomorrow is the Stephens Group IPO celebration gala. I'm going to deliver them a gift personally."

The online firestorm spread faster than I'd anticipated.

I'd barely sat down on the sofa when Linda Stephens called.

I hit speakerphone. Her shrill, venomous voice flooded the living room instantly.

"Seraphina Ashford, you jinx! You have the nerve to hide? The Stephens family line has been passed down for three generations with a single heir each time. We will NOT tolerate this kind of cursed abomination! You get yourself to a hospital right now and get rid of that bastard, then get out of this family with nothing! Alma has already moved into our home. She's the one who can truly help William. She's the wife he deserves!"

I listened in silence until she finished her tirade, then replied, my voice flat and cold. "You want me to leave with nothing? Tell William to come talk to me himself."

I hung up.

At ten that night, William actually showed up at the estate.

He had no idea it was Ashford property. He assumed I'd rented some upscale bed-and-breakfast with whatever savings I had left.

He stood in the living room, looking at me in my loose silk robe, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.