Sarah Cole POV:

The words on the screen blurred. The text was a confirmation of everything I already felt, a cold, hard stamp on my status in this house. A replacement. A placeholder.

Olivia’s final, private message was a masterpiece of cruelty. It had been delivered after she was already gone, leaving me with no one to confront, no way to react except to sit here and let the poison seep in.

"Sarah? Are you okay? You look pale."

Ethan’s voice finally broke the silence. He had noticed. Far too late.

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't speak. I just wanted to get up, go to my room, and lock the door. As I tried to stand, a sharp, pulling pain shot through my lower abdomen, making me gasp and sink back into the chair.

I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath. *Don't let her get to you,* I told myself. *Think about the baby. Think about Noah.*

Ethan was beside me in an instant, his hand on my arm, his voice tight with a sudden, unfamiliar panic. "What is it? What's wrong? Is it the baby?"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice weak and tired. "Just a little tired." I didn't have the energy to fight, to show him the text, to demand an explanation he would never give.

He let out a breath of relief, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. He was trying, in his own clumsy way, to fix things. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she was coming. Did she… did she say something to upset you?"

I finally looked at him, really looked at him, and the question came out before I could stop it, flat and devoid of hope. "If she did, would you believe me?"

He had no answer. He looked away, his jaw tight. That was his answer. The confirmation that deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he had already chosen his side. He had chosen to believe in the illusion of peace over the uncomfortable truth.

A scream tore through the quiet afternoon.

It was high and shrill, a sound of pure terror that came from outside, from the direction of the lake.

It was Olivia's voice.

Ethan was on his feet in a second, the blood draining from his face. His body reacted before his mind could, a primal instinct that sent him sprinting for the terrace doors.

The sound shocked the air from my lungs. My own heart hammered against my ribs as I struggled to get up, my pregnant body feeling slow and clumsy.

Olivia burst back into the house, a wild, frantic vision. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with a terror that was utterly real.

She collided with Ethan in the doorway, grabbing his arms. "Daisy!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "I can't find Daisy! She's gone!"

Ethan’s face was a mask of disbelief. "What are you talking about? She was right with you."

"She wanted to pick one more flower by the old dock," Olivia sobbed, her fists beating weakly against his chest. "I turned my back for a second. Just one second, Ethan, and she was gone!"

He didn't hesitate. He didn't look back at me. He didn't even seem to remember I existed. He pushed past Olivia and ran, his long legs eating up the distance to the lake, his entire being focused on a single purpose.

His reaction was more honest than any words he'd ever spoken. It was a brutal, visceral display of where his heart, his loyalty, truly lay.

I was forgotten.

I stood alone in the living room, a sharp pain in my belly mirroring the twisting agony in my heart. The house staff, drawn by the commotion, began to run past me, their faces grim. The villa descended into chaos.

I held the wall for support, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and forced myself to move. I was worried about the little girl, a child I didn't even know. But my body betrayed me. I couldn't run. Every step was a slow, deliberate effort.

By the time I made it outside, down the sloping lawn toward the water's edge, it was already over.

The last to arrive.

I saw a small crowd of staff gathered at the end of the old, weathered dock. And in the center of them, I saw Ethan. He was kneeling, lifting a small, limp, soaking-wet body out of the dark water.

Olivia's wail was a sound no human should ever have to make.

And I, the wife, the mother-to-be, stood frozen at a distance, the last person to witness the heart of the tragedy.