* FREEBIE * Chapter 205

It felt like a lightning bolt had cracked straight through Cordelia’s skull.

She stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand—two unmistakable pink lines glaring back at her like a slap across the face.

Her heart pounded.

That wretched woman!

Serena had the gall to defy them—to defy her—and go crawling back into Alexander’s bed?

Cordelia’s grip tightened on the test as rage surged through her like wildfire. Hadn’t she warned Serena? Hadn’t she made it crystal clear that any delusions about staying in the Vanderbilt family would be crushed?

Yet here she was, not only staying—but carrying what might be Alexander’s child.

Cordelia took a sharp breath and quickly fished her phone out of her purse. Her fingers, trembling with adrenaline, flew across the screen as she dialed Alexander’s number.

But it wasn’t him who picked up—it was Jonathan.

"Ms. Cordelia," Jonathan greeted calmly, his tone clipped and professional.

"Jonathan," she snapped, "hand the phone to Alexander. I need to ask him something—right now."

Jonathan didn’t flinch. He had been working with Alexander long enough to recognize when someone was overstepping.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Cordelia," he replied. "Mr. Vanderbilt is in a meeting that will last the next four hours. He cannot be disturbed."

Cordelia’s face twisted in frustration. She clenched her jaw but didn’t push further—Jonathan wouldn’t bend.

Fine.

She hung up and dialed another number.

Victoria answered, her tone immediately sour. She had been seething ever since the fiasco with the Morales company.

"What is it now, Aunt Cordelia?"

Cordelia didn't waste time. "Victoria, do you know if Alexander and Serena have… resumed intimacy?"

Victoria’s heart clenched. Just hearing Serena's name made her blood boil. She was already drowning in humiliation—being asked this only poured salt in the wound.

"No!" she practically shouted. "Alexander said he hasn’t touched her. He told me himself—he’s planning to divorce her. He wouldn’t go back on his word!"

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, her mind spinning with implications.

If Alexander hadn’t touched Serena recently… then whose child was she carrying?

Her blood turned cold.

This wasn’t just scandalous—it was catastrophic.

If it leaked that the Vanderbilt daughter-in-law was pregnant by another man, their name would be dragged through the mud. Gossip would flood the social circles, stock prices would take a hit, and worst of all, Mr. Vanderbilt Sr.—already frail—would be devastated.

The weight of it all settled on her chest.

But beneath the shock, a glimmer of opportunity sparked.

This was it.

The perfect reason—no, the perfect weapon—to destroy Serena once and for all.

Cordelia left Le Châteauesque Manor in a flurry of rage and triumph, dialing the one person who would act immediately: Madam Vanderbilt.

The moment the old matriarch answered and heard Cordelia’s news, her cane slammed hard against the floor.

"That little slut!" she barked. "So Alexander didn’t touch her, and she went off to find some other man? Got herself knocked up and thought she could hide it?!"

Cordelia’s voice dripped with venom. "Mother, we have to act fast. If this gets out, the family will become a laughingstock. The board will panic, and the investors—"

"And your father!" Madam Vanderbilt snapped. "He’s recovering! This could send him straight back to the hospital—if not worse."

Silence fell between them for a long, heavy beat.

Then Madam Vanderbilt's voice returned, calm but ice-cold.

"Don't tell anyone. Not yet. We’ll handle this quietly. And when we do—she’ll be gone for good."

Cordelia smiled. Not the soft, pleasant smile of social niceties—but the cruel, calculating smirk of someone finally handed the upper hand.

"Perfect," she said. "Let’s give her a taste of what happens when you humiliate this family."

--- 

Two hours later, Serena finally wrapped up the mountain of paperwork at the office. Her mind was spinning, her body running on fumes.

She gripped the steering wheel on her drive back to Le Châteauesque Manor, feeling as though her heart were being squeezed by an invisible hand. The pregnancy test result echoed through her thoughts with every turn of the wheels.

Two lines.

Clear. Unmistakable.

She hadn't told a soul—not even Aunt Torres. Who could she tell? Who would even believe her? The child had been a complete accident... but now it was her entire world, and she hadn’t had a single moment to decide what it truly meant.

As she rounded the final bend near the manor's private road, she spotted a familiar figure standing off to the side—waving her down.

Cordelia.

Serena's brows drew together in suspicion. She had a feeling Cordelia wasn’t here with good intentions. Victoria’s sudden wealth had always felt like a mystery, and Serena had suspected from the beginning that Cordelia might have had a hand in it. If so, that only added to the mountain of resentment Cordelia surely bore toward her now.

Still, Cordelia was Alexander’s mother.

Serena pulled over and rolled down the window. "Ms. Cordelia?"

Without waiting for permission, Cordelia yanked open the passenger-side door and climbed in. Serena’s instincts screamed at her—don’t do it—but she ignored the unease.

Just as she reached for the gear shift, two men emerged from behind a hedge, their movements swift and calculated.

Before Serena could react, the back door swung open. A thick hand clamped down over her mouth. Another yanked her seatbelt loose.

Her eyes flew wide with panic.

Cordelia’s voice cut through the chaos, flat and venomous.

"Whose seed are you carrying in that belly of yours?"

Serena’s blood ran cold. Her heart thudded in terror.

She tried to fight, to scream, but a damp cloth with a sharp, chemical odor was shoved against her nose and mouth. The sickly scent burned her nostrils.

Her limbs went heavy. Her thoughts scattered.

Someone grabbed her under the arms and dragged her out of the car like a ragdoll.

Only five hundred meters from Le Châteauesque Manor—Cordelia had timed this perfectly, just outside the grounds. Serena realized then that Cordelia hadn’t dared pull this off within Mr. Vanderbilt Sr.'s domain. Aunt Torres would’ve intervened, and then the old man would’ve found out.

Now there was no one around to stop it.

“Mmm... let... me go—!”

Serena kicked weakly, her voice muffled, her strength draining by the second. The cloth worked fast.

Cordelia slid into the passenger seat and crossed her arms. Her voice was laced with scorn.

"I never imagined you’d be this cheap. Sleeping around and trying to pass off some bastard child as Alexander’s? Absolutely not. That baby will not be born."

Through the fog of dizziness, Serena caught the name of the hospital.

Her heart dropped.

They were going to force her into an abortion.

Panic surged. Adrenaline kicked in.

The car slowed near the emergency entrance, and before they could drag her out, she fought back—biting one of the men hard on the hand. He howled, and in the split second he released her, she bolted.

Weak and disoriented, Serena stumbled forward, running blindly across the pavement. Sweat poured down her temples. Her legs felt like lead. But her fear carried her.

She pulled out her phone, hands trembling. There was only one person who could stop Cordelia.

Alexander.

She hit the call button, praying.

Even if it meant exposing herself, even if it meant revealing everything—she had to protect her baby.

The phone rang once. Twice.

Then silence.

His line was off.

Hope vanished.

She gasped, tears welling in her eyes, and tried dialing another number—Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. If anyone had the power to stop this, it was him.

But before she could press “Call,” a boot struck her phone, sending it skittering across the asphalt.

She screamed and fell hard, her knees scraping against the concrete.

The bodyguards caught up.

Pinned.

Cordelia stepped out of the car with the slow, deliberate calm of someone who believed she’d already won. Her heels clicked ominously as she walked up to where Serena lay, trembling and breathless.

“You’re finished,” Cordelia hissed. “The Vanderbilt family will never allow a bastard into our lineage.”

Serena’s nails dug into her palms, her body shaking.

With every ounce of strength left, she rasped, “This child… it’s Alexander’s.”

Cordelia’s brows lifted slightly—but not in shock. In cold calculation.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Jonathan.

Back at a business meeting overseas, Jonathan took the call and turned toward Alexander.

“Sir, Mrs. Vanderbilt wishes to speak with you. She says it’s urgent.”

Alexander barely looked up from the documents he was reviewing. He took the phone, pressed it to his ear.

Cordelia’s smug voice came through.

“Alexander. Serena says she’s carrying your child.”

A long silence.

Then Alexander let out a humorless laugh. His fingers froze.

Not this again.

He remembered Megan—how she’d tried the same tactic. The drama, the manipulation.

The disgust surged in him like a wave. Without a word, he hung up and handed the phone back.

"She’s lying," he muttered coldly.

Back on the ground, Serena hadn’t heard the other end of the call. She was still trying to explain.

“He… he doesn’t know who I am. If I could just—”

Cordelia cut her off, crouching low.

Her expression was chilling.

“He already hung up.”

Serena’s breath caught. A sharp ache bloomed in her chest. She looked up at Cordelia, who now stood tall and composed, her makeup perfect, her posture regal.

Serena, by contrast, was filthy—her face slick with sweat, her knees bleeding, her strength nearly gone.

Cordelia leaned in.

“Even if it is Alexander’s child, I’d still make sure you don’t carry it to term.”

With a nod, the bodyguards grabbed Serena again, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

Cordelia’s voice rang out, brisk and final.

“Take her in. The doctor is ready.”

Serena’s arms dangled, her vision spinning, her breath shallow. As they dragged her toward the hospital doors, her lips barely moved.

“Can you… please… call Alexander one more time?”

Serena had never lowered herself like this before—not in front of Cordelia.

But now, slumped in a stranger’s grip, hair disheveled and face flushed with panic, she whispered the words that tasted like ash on her tongue.

“Call Alexander again… please.”

She knew asking Cordelia to contact Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. was a fool’s errand. That woman would never dial his number—especially not for her. But Alexander… there was a faint, flickering hope there, even if it barely existed. If he knew about the child, maybe—just maybe—he’d want to keep it.

Cordelia’s lips curled into a sneer. Her chin tilted up, imperious.

“Take her in. The operation is already scheduled.”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt…” Serena’s voice cracked, weak and trembling.

Cordelia’s tone was almost amused, as if lecturing a child.

“Serena, why do you think Alexander would ever want this child? Has he ever told you he loved you?”

The question struck her like a slap.

Serena’s lips parted, but no words came. Her throat closed up.

No. He hadn’t. Not once.

He had touched her, yes—over and over—but affection? That had never been spoken. And now, when she needed him most, his phone had been turned off. Her chest felt hollow.

Too weak to resist, she was dragged down a private corridor of the hospital—one reserved for VIPs and discreet procedures. Cordelia had arranged everything meticulously. Not a single Vanderbilt staff member would talk. No reporters. No records that couldn’t be scrubbed.

The hallway felt colder than usual, the fluorescent lights humming like flies circling a dying body.

They reached the operating room. Cordelia followed behind with calm efficiency, heels tapping against polished floors.

“Put her under general anesthesia,” she ordered without a blink. “We can’t risk a scene.”

The doctor nodded. He was an old collaborator of the Vanderbilt family—efficient, unquestioning, and used to working quietly in the shadows.

“Mrs. Vanderbilt, I’ll need to do a quick scan first,” the doctor said with professional detachment. “Just to confirm the pregnancy before we proceed.”

“I’m sure,” Cordelia said curtly. Her eyes were hard as steel. “Remove it.”

Her hatred for Serena ran deep—like poison in the blood. But more than that, this was about reputation. About legacy. About keeping Alexander’s name untarnished, no matter the cost.

The examination was brief.

Fifteen minutes later, the doctor emerged from the room with a clipboard and a tightly furrowed brow.

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” he began, “we’ve confirmed that she is indeed pregnant—but it’s an ectopic pregnancy.”

Cordelia blinked.

“What?”

“The fertilized egg implanted in the fallopian tube. It’s nonviable. If not treated, it could rupture and endanger her life.”

For a moment, Cordelia stood motionless.

Then a cold, cruel smile tugged at the corners of her lips. So fate had done half the work for her.

Serena’s child had been doomed from the start.

“Do the procedure.”

The doctor nodded. “We’ll begin immediately. It’s still early-stage, so a minimally invasive surgery will suffice. She’s already under anesthesia.”

Cordelia started to turn away—then paused.

“Don’t tell her it was ectopic.”

The doctor hesitated. “Excuse me?”

“Let her believe she lost a normal child. No one is to say a word otherwise.”

The air grew thick with something more sinister than medicine.

The doctor’s jaw tightened—but after a beat, he nodded. “Understood.”

Inside the room, Serena lay limp beneath the bright surgical lights, the pulse monitor ticking faintly beside her.

Before the anesthesia had fully taken hold, her hands had clutched at the sheets, and her lips had moved soundlessly—pleading.

Tears had already begun slipping from the corners of her eyes, trailing down to dampen the edge of the pillow.

Three minutes later, she was asleep.

Ten minutes after that, it was over.

When Serena was wheeled out, no one was waiting by her side. No comforting hand, no voice telling her it would be okay.

The hall was quiet. The air sterile. Her face was turned slightly to the side, and though her breathing had evened, her eyelashes were still damp with tears.

She didn’t know what had been taken from her—or that the truth was buried along with her hope.

Not yet.