Chapter 3

Zoe shot me a taunting, smug glance, then instantly switched into a pitiful, tearful voice for the phone. "Baby, there's... there's a problem. Some crazy woman showed up out of nowhere with a little bastard kid, claiming to be your wife and your daughter. She just tried to attack me like a rabid dog. Hurry, please? I need you."

On the other end, Silas's voice dropped to freezing. "What? Who the hell dares touch you on my property? Stay right there. I'm on my way."

The call ended with a sharp click.

The cold dial tone hung in the air. I collapsed against the tile, every drop of blood drained from my body. I couldn't stop shaking, cold all over, like I'd been dropped into the bottom of the ocean.

Five years.

Five fucking years I'd been with this man. I'd given up everything for him, learned to cook and clean and play the perfect little housewife. I'd even risked my life to give him Winnie. And what did I get? My screams had been loud enough—he'd heard every second of it—and he hadn't even recognized my voice.

Not only hadn't he recognized me—he'd instantly taken the other woman's side.

Zoe tucked the phone away, smug as hell. She sauntered over and squatted down again, using the same knife blade that had just carved into my daughter's leg to pat my cheek, slow and insulting. "You hear that? Silas is on his way. Tell me—when he gets here, who's he gonna believe? You? Some washed-up, tired old housewife? Or me? His fiancée?"

I ground my back teeth so hard I could taste blood.

The crowd around us erupted into even louder, meaner laughter.

"You hear that? Mr. Young said so! She is a piece of filth! aah"

"She actually tried to mess with Mr. Young's fiancée? She's dead meat. When he gets here, he'll probably throw both of 'em to the sharks!"

"Serves her right. Did you see that gross shit on the kid's leg? Makes me sick. And she dares say that's Mr. Young's daughter? Who'd buy that?"

Every laugh was a nail driven straight into my bones.

The rational part of me was screaming to kill, to unleash everything. But deep down, there was still this stupid, pathetic little spark of hope. Even if he didn't love me anymore, even if his heart belonged to someone else—Winnie was still his daughter, right? Blood was blood. She was his only flesh and blood in this whole world. He couldn't just... he couldn't stand by and watch his own daughter get beaten and humiliated like this, could he?

If he just saw Winnie. If he saw how much blood she'd lost... he'd care. He had to. Once, he'd told me that if we ever had a daughter, he'd spoil her rotten, make her the happiest little princess in the whole world.

About ten minutes later, the ballroom doors slammed open.

The crowd went dead silent, parting down the middle like the Red Sea.

Silas was here.

He wore a perfectly tailored black custom suit, tall and straight as a pine, his face handsome and sharp. As he walked toward us, backlit by the light, his silhouette lined up perfectly with the stubborn young man I'd pulled from the deep ocean five years ago. Exactly the same.

Looking at that face—the face I'd loved more than anything, more than my own life—my eyes burned. The tears I'd been holding back this whole time finally broke free, streaming down my face. My lips trembled. I was this close to calling his name.

But his eyes locked onto Zoe like he had a goddamn radar. He walked straight past me and Winnie—covered in blood on the floor—without so much as a sideways glance.

He didn't even spare me half a look. He hurried across the bloodstained floor, pulled Zoe into his arms, and checked her over frantically, his voice tight with panic like he'd almost lost something irreplaceable. "Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did that lunatic hurt you?"

Zoe melted into his arms, weak and delicate. Her eyes went red, and perfect little crystal tears spilled down her cheeks right on cue. "Silas, you're here! That woman was so scary, she just lunged at me. Look—she scratched my hand. It hurts so bad..."

She sniffled and held out her pale wrist, all pitiful.

On the back of her hand was a thin, faint red mark. From when she'd been holding Winnie down, hurting her, and I'd struggled to get free and stop her. My nail had brushed her skin. It hadn't even broken the skin.

That was it. One stupid little red line.

And Silas looked at it like it was a life-threatening wound. His brow furrowed with concern. He took her wrist carefully, gently, and blew on the mark like it was the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

In that moment, every tear inside me turned to ice.

This was the man I'd given everything for. The man I'd almost died for.

Once he'd finished cooing over Zoe, Silas finally turned around. He looked down at me and Winnie, crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood.

When his eyes landed on Winnie's calf—on those scales, scraped raw and bloody, and the bright red puddle on the ground—his eyebrows pulled together into a deep, angry frown.

I looked up at him. My heart stopped.