Chapter 3

No scream rose out of me. No tears came either.

There's a strange truth about being broken into that many pieces—it doesn't come with sound. What fills the silence instead is a hollow, deafening ring that drowns out everything.

My mother had died. My sister—the same little girl I had shielded from our father's cruelty for years, the one whose dreams I had funded by giving up pieces of my own happiness—had handed me over to a monster without a second thought. And Edmund had known the truth the entire time. He'd taken a dead woman and turned her into the chain that kept me bound to him.

Hours passed while I lay motionless in that darkened hospital room, my gaze fixed on the ceiling until my eyes ached from the strain. There was nothing left for me to hold onto. No child. No mother. No sister I could trust. No husband worth the name.

The door clicked as it swung open.

I stayed still, feigning sleep, while the cloying mix of costly vanilla perfume and something sickeningly sweet rolled through the sterile air.

"Look at her, lying there. Pathetic, isn't it?" Bianca's voice. My own sister's voice.

"Quiet, don't wake her yet," Vienna whispered back with a giggle. "I want to watch her face the moment she sees what we've got."

I let my eyes drift open slowly.

The two of them stood together at the foot of my bed. Bianca was dressed in the designer coat I'd gifted her only last month for her birthday, looking every bit as striking as ever. Beside her, Vienna leaned in close, cradling a small mahogany box I recognized instantly.

My heart seized.

That box held my memories. I'd kept it tucked away in the back of my closet for years—the very box Edmund had sworn, over and over, that he'd disposed of long ago.

"Put that back where it belongs," I rasped, my throat raw and scraped hollow. I struggled to lift myself upright, though my body was still too drained from the earlier panic to cooperate.

A slow smirk spread across Vienna's face as she flicked the latch open. "Edmund dropped this off at my suite not long ago. Figured since I'm the one carrying his heir, I ought to check whether anything from your... failed attempt is worth keeping."

"Keep your hands off it!" I threw myself forward, only for the IV tubing to snap my arm back, sending a burst of sharp pain up through the vein.

Vienna dug her fingers into the box and drew out a small blue blanket, hand-knitted with careful stitches. I recognized every thread of it—the one I'd made with my own hands while pregnant, the one I'd kept wrapped around my belly each night as I hummed lullabies to a son I would never get to cradle.

"The wool's rather coarse, isn't it," Vienna murmured, running the fabric idly between her polished fingers. "And such a gloomy shade of blue, too."

"Edmund mentioned you could turn it into a rag for that purebred Pomeranian of yours," Bianca added, a smile curling across her mouth that held nothing but contempt. My own sister, looking at me as though I were something to be scraped off her shoe.

"Actually," Vienna said, malice glittering in her eyes, "I think the trash is where this belongs. Right where its owner should've ended up too."

She let the blanket fall to the floor, then ground her muddy designer boot into it deliberately, twisting the delicate blue yarn against the hospital tile.

Something inside me gave way completely. Whatever thin thread had been holding my mind together finally snapped.

I didn't fight back. I didn't cry out. I simply stared at the muddy print left behind on the last thing I had of my child.

"Oh, look, is she about to start crying again?" Bianca sneered. "Come on, Ches, let's go. This room's making me sick to my stomach."

They spun on their heels and left, their laughter drifting back down the corridor behind them.

Slowly, I pulled the IV needle free from my arm. Blood trickled down my wrist, though I felt nothing at all. I swung my legs out of bed, my bare feet meeting the freezing floor, and bent to gather the ruined blue blanket, pressing it tight against my chest before walking out of the room.

I didn't head toward Vienna's suite. I didn't go searching for Edmund, either.

I made straight for the stairwell and began to climb.

The heavy metal door leading to the rooftop groaned open under my push. Seattle's freezing rain struck me instantly, soaking straight through my thin gown and plastering my hair flat against my face. The wind screamed around me, though it was nothing next to the storm ripping through my chest.

I made my way to the edge.

Below me, the city lights smeared together into a dizzying blur, a plunge into wet, dark streets where the cars looked no bigger than ants. Just one step. That was all that separated me from the end of the pain. One step, and I could be with my son again. I could be with my mother again.

Edmund had gotten exactly what he wanted. He had shattered me completely.

"I'm on my way, my sweet boy," I murmured up into the storm, holding the ruined blue blanket close against my heart. "Mommy's coming to you."

I swung my leg over the icy railing, my toes finding the very edge of the concrete ledge. The wind shoved hard against my back, coaxing me forward.

I shut my eyes and drew in one final breath.

My grip on the railing loosened.

Then a hand—large, warm, unyielding—clamped around my wrist like a steel trap.

Before a single gasp could escape me, a powerful arm hooked around my waist and hauled me backward with startling force. My body collided with a broad, solid chest, and together we tumbled over the railing, crashing down onto the rain-soaked concrete of the rooftop.

"Let go of me!" I shrieked, fighting wildly against whoever held me. "Let me die! Just let me go!"

"Dying's the easy part, Camila," a low, velvety voice breathed close to my ear, and something about it sent an involuntary shiver rippling down my spine. It was a voice that seemed to command obedience without even trying.

He adjusted his hold, gently but firmly pinning my flailing arms against my sides so I couldn't hurt myself further. Through the sheeting rain, I finally looked up at him.

Midnight-blue eyes locked onto mine, set above a jawline cut sharp as glass, radiating a kind of dangerous power that made the frigid air feel suddenly suffocating. He wore a tailored black suit, seemingly indifferent to the storm raging around us.

"Who are you?" The words scraped out of me, my whole body shaking.

His mouth curved slowly into something dark, almost predatory. Reaching up, he brushed a wet strand of hair away from my cheek with surprising gentleness.

"I'm the man who took Edmund's company out from under him," he said, his tone smooth as silk, a dangerous promise flickering behind his eyes. "His cousin. Andrei Voss. Step off this ledge, and you hand them the victory they want. But take my hand instead, and I'll help you tear every last one of them down."