Chapter 2 - The Pregnant Shadow and the Fallen Queen
Ten days had passed since the diagnosis,
ten days of being treated like a ghost in my own hallways.
I had grown weak,
not from the disease,
but from the lack of food and the weight of my own sorrow.
I pushed my wheelchair toward the kitchen,
the wheels squeaking on the expensive Italian marble.
I just wanted a glass of water,
something to cool the fire in my throat.
But the kitchen was already occupied.
Sitting at my hand-carved mahogany table,
wearing my favorite vintage silk robe,
was a girl who couldn't have been more than twenty-four.
She was blonde,
beautiful,
and unmistakably pregnant.
The curve of her stomach was a silent scream of betrayal.
Richard was standing behind her,
his hands on her shoulders,
his thumb stroking the silk of my robe.
"It’s a bit tight around the chest,"
the girl,
Sienna,
giggled.
"But don't worry,
Richie."
"Once she’s finally out of the way,
I’ll buy a whole new wardrobe with the insurance money."
Richard leaned down and kissed her neck.
"You deserve the best,
Sienna."
"We’ll gut this place."
"I want bright white marble everywhere."
"None of this 'old money' clutter she insists on keeping."
"It feels like a museum for the dead."
My hand slipped on the metal rim of the wheelchair.
The clatter echoed through the open-concept room.
They both turned,
Richard’s eyes flashing with an immediate,
violent irritation.
"Richard,"
I croaked,
my voice failing me.
"Who is this?"
He didn't even have the grace to look ashamed.
He walked toward me,
each step radiating a terrifying,
focused energy.
"This is Sienna,"
he said,
his voice low and dangerous.
"She’s carrying my heir."
"Something you were too 'focused on business' to ever provide."
"She’s moving in today."
"The master suite is hers now."
I tried to speak,
to remind him that my name was on the deed,
that my father’s money had paid for the very air he breathed.
But before a word could leave my lips,
his hand crashed across my face.
The force of the blow sent me spiraling out of the chair.
I hit the marble floor with a sickening thud.
"You're a nuisance,
Elena,"
he hissed,
looming over me.
"A dying,
useless nuisance."
He grabbed my arm,
the skin already paper-thin,
and dragged me across the cold stone.
I tried to claw at the floor,
my fingernails breaking against the grout.
He threw me toward the hallway,
my body slamming into the wainscoting.
"Stay in your hole,"
he warned,
his face inches from mine.
"If I see you outside of that room again,"
"I’ll make sure those ninety days are cut very,
very short."
He slammed the guest room door and locked it from the outside.
I lay there in the dark,
the taste of copper in my mouth.
My shoulder screamed in pain,
and my back felt like it had been shattered.
From the other side of the door,
I heard Sienna’s laughter.
"Is she still alive?"
she asked.
"Unfortunately,"
Richard replied.
"But not for long."
"The doctors were very specific."
"By next month,
she’ll be too weak to even crawl."
I touched the bruises forming on my ribs.
I looked at my trembling hands.
I was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar conglomerate,
and I was being discarded like a broken toy.
The humiliation was a physical weight,
crushing the air out of my lungs.
I crawled to the bed,
pulling myself up with the last of my strength.
I reached for my phone,
the screen cracked from the fall.
I just wanted to see a photo of my father.
I wanted to feel like I belonged to someone.
But as the screen lit up,
a notification appeared that changed the trajectory of my soul.
It wasn't a photo.
It wasn't a memory.
It was an urgent message from the hospital.
I blinked,
trying to clear the blood from my vision.
The subject line read:
CRITICAL ERROR IN RECORDS.
I opened it,
my heart beating against my bruised ribs.
"Dear Mrs. Vance,
we have discovered a catastrophic mix-up in the pathology lab."
"The biopsy results delivered to you on the 14th belonged to another patient."
"Your actual results show no signs of malignancy."
"You are not dying,
Elena."
"Please come in immediately for a formal apology and correction."
I read the words again.
And again.
The pain in my abdomen...
it was stress.
The exhaustion...
it was the poison Richard had been slowly slipping into my tea.
I wasn't a dead woman walking.
I was a woman who had just been given a second life.
And this time,
I wasn't going to spend it being kind.
The tears stopped.
The trembling ceased.
A cold,
diamond-hard resolve settled in my chest.
Richard thought he had ninety days until his victory.
I decided to give him exactly that.
Ninety days of a masquerade.
Ninety days to build a gallows for the man I used to love.
I leaned back against the wall,
May you like
ignoring the pain in my shoulder.
The hunt had begun.
