three

One month later.

The Blackwell Family Trust mid-term review gala.

Ethan had forced me to wear this dusty-pink evening gown—a reject from Lily's closet—just to parade our "ironclad" marriage to the world. I stood by the marble balustrade of the winding second-floor staircase, looking down with cold detachment as Ethan laughed it up with the guests below.

Ever since I discovered that text message on Lily's phone, Ethan had grown increasingly obsessed with her, trusting her with an absolute, blind devotion. I had no choice but to make some secret preparations of my own.

"Look how glorious he is tonight." Lily strolled up carrying a glass of skim milk, stopping right in front of me to deliberately thrust out her stomach, even though she wasn't remotely showing yet. "In a few months, Ethan's entire world will be mine." She dropped her voice to a mocking whisper against my ear. "And you? You'll be out on the streets, turning tricks just to survive."

I turned my head, giving her an inscrutable smile. Meanwhile, my left hand discreetly activated a micro-device I had concealed in my belt.

"That text message—who was it from? What exactly are you feeding Ethan?" I asked softly. "And based on my digging over the past month, the kid in your belly is more than a month along, isn't it? It's a bastard you're borrowing from some other man."

Lily's expression froze, and a flash of panic crossed her eyes. Her hand subconsciously went to her flat belly. But just as quickly, a ruthless look swept across her face.

"What do you know?" she snapped, taking a step closer. "You're a useless amnesiac without a past. Who would believe a word you say? Ethan is completely blind right now—he only cares about my belly!"

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, Lily caught movement downstairs. Ethan had finished his conversation and was heading toward our staircase.

Suddenly, Lily dropped her milk glass. It shattered against the marble. She grabbed my right hand in a death grip.

"What are you doing?" I frowned, about to yank my hand away.

"What am I doing? You ruined my plans, so of course I'm sending you to hell first," she stared at me, an incredibly eerie smile creeping onto her face.

In the next split second, Lily threw herself backward.

"Ah! Grace, no! Don't push me!"

She rolled violently down the smooth marble steps.

Thud. Thud.

Her agonizing screams instantly cut through the string quartet playing in the ballroom. Hundreds of New York’s top elites snapped their heads toward the sound.

"Lily!" Ethan charged through the crowd like a madman, scooping up her limp body.

A glaring pool of crimson seeped through the inner thigh of her dress. She clutched the lapels of his suit, her voice so weak she sounded like she was gasping her last breath. "Ethan... save our baby... don't blame Grace..."

I stood at the top of the stairs, my fingertips cold, watching the farce play out.

Ethan whipped his head up, glaring at my face with pure malice. He handed Lily off to the rushing bodyguards, took the stairs two at a time, and closed the distance between us.

Smack!

A ringing backhand crashed into my face. I cupped my swelling cheek, tasting the metallic tang of my own blood. Down below, the guests watched us like a theater act.

"You bitch!" Ethan roared, pointing a finger in my face. "She is carrying the only hope for this family! It's bad enough that you're barren, but are you trying to throw all our efforts down the drain?" His face twisted in disgust. "Grace, can't you just swallow your petty jealousy for the sake of our love?"

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. "If I told you I didn't push her, would you believe me?" I looked him dead in the eye, my fists secretly clenching at my sides.

"Do you think the hundreds of eyes down there are blind?! What's left to argue?" He didn't even give me a chance to present evidence. He spun toward the ground floor, bellowing, "Where the hell is the ambulance? Call the best doctors in New York right now!"

"Ethan, it hurts so much..." Lily whimpered, leaning weakly against a bodyguard's arm in a fake display of agony. "Ethan, I need you. I don't feel safe at all right now..."

Hearing the word "safe," Ethan turned his head, his gaze dropping to my neck.

Resting there was a blue sapphire necklace—the heirloom of the Blackwell matriarchs. Three years ago, he had placed it around my neck himself when he proposed.

"She doesn't deserve to wear it," Ethan said, a flash of absolute coldness in his eyes.

He lunged forward and grabbed the necklace.

"Ethan, what are you doing!" I jerked back.

But he didn't loosen his grip. With a vicious downward yank, the coarse metal chain sliced a deep, bloody groove into my neck. The violent pull sent me crashing to my knees on the hard stone.

Holding the necklace stained with my blood—the very symbol of the family's reigning mistress—Ethan walked down the steps. In front of all of New York's power players, under the blinding flashes of media cameras, he pressed it into Lily's palm.

"Take it. You don't have to be afraid anymore." Ethan hesitated for a second before gently kissing Lily's forehead. "From today on, you are the mistress of the Blackwell family."

Ethan scooped Lily up softly into his arms. Then, he looked back over his shoulder at me, still kneeling, unable to stand straight on the landing.

"Take my wife back to her room so she can properly reflect on her actions," he issued his coldest command to the bodyguards behind him. "Until my heir is safely born, guard the inside of the house and make sure to 'protect' her well."

Moments later, I was hauled up and practically dragged away by the bodyguards like a dead dog. Despite Ethan's high-sounding excuse about me reflecting in my room, I knew exactly what he meant: he was going to lock me in the basement beneath the house.

The undisguised mockery and whispers of the elite washed over me.

"Pathetic. How could a hen that doesn't lay eggs expect any charity from her master?"

"It's about time. How could a broke orphan ever match someone as noble as Ethan..."

I let my head hang limp, allowing the bodyguards to haul me away. But in that very instant, a violent, splitting headache ripped through my skull.

Flashes of memory flooded my mind.

I saw it. I saw myself inside a massive European castle, a pure gold family crest pinned to my chest. Dozens of bodyguards flanked me. At an evening ball, countless handsome young nobles vied for my attention, extending invitations. Some even willingly dropped to their knees, begging just to kiss the tip of my shoe.

Click, clack, slam.

Three electronic deadbolts locked simultaneously, sealing the basement.

In the pitch black, I knelt on the cold floor. Prying the special micro-device loose from the decorative embellishments on my belt, my fingers flew expertly across the screen, firing off a text message to a number that had just burned itself back into my memory. A faint, venomous smile curled the corners of my lips.

Ethan Blackwell.

You'd better pray you aren't completely stupid. Because when I get out of here, I have a surprise waiting for you.