ELISHA’S POV
As I watched Anthony place Natalie into the backseat of his SUV, I became aware of a burning, dull pain radiating up my arm. My palm throbbed with a strange heat, and I glanced down.
Blood.
A deep gash tore across the flesh of my palm.
It must’ve happened when Anthony shoved me away—when I stumbled backward into the shattered plate on the floor.
He didn’t notice. He hadn’t even looked back.
I quietly walked to the downstairs powder room, found the first-aid kit beneath the sink, and sat on the edge of the toilet, cleaning the wound myself.
Antiseptic stung like betrayal. I wrapped it in gauze as tightly as I could and gritted my teeth against the pain.
The house was too quiet now.
Too still.
Just as I tossed the bloodstained tissues into the bin, my phone buzzed.
Anthony: WE’RE AT MONTGOMERY COLLEGE HOSPITAL. COME.
That was it.
No explanation. No apology. No, Are you okay?
Just a command, like I was a secretary summoned to the next crisis.
***
The hospital was familiar. Sterile. Bright. Overwhelming.
I walked the hall slowly, ignoring the tight ache in my hand.
Room 205. I stopped just short of the door.
Through the glass, I saw Natalie curled into Anthony’s chest, tears glistening on her cheeks. His hand ran soothingly through her hair.
He said something, and she laughed softly, even as she wiped her face.
My heart ached.
They looked so… natural.
As if this was how it had always been.
I reached for the door, my fingers grazing the handle.
Then my phone rang.
Dominic. My brother.
I stepped away from the door and answered. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” his voice snapped through the line.
“At the hospital. Nat’s in College Hospital on Phil’s Street—”
“I know that,” he cut in. “I meant where are you in your head? Why aren’t you taking care of her?”
The question landed like a slap.
Dominic had been my partner-in-crime growing up. My protector. He taught me how to drive before I had a license. Covered for me when I came home drunk. Sat with me through my first heartbreak.
But ever since Natalie returned… he’d changed. Just like the others.
“I didn’t know she was allergic to anything in the dish—” I began.
“You owe her,” he said bluntly. “You know that, right?”
The words sliced deeper than the glass.
After the call ended, I stood frozen, the memory of every whispered comment flashing in my mind.
How people stopped introducing me as “the Montgomery daughter” and started calling me “the adopted one.” How cousins took Natalie’s side in arguments without knowing the full story. How someone at a dinner once asked if I felt guilty for “living her life.”
Maybe they were right. Maybe I had stolen everything.
And maybe, in the end, I deserved to lose it.
I looked up again. Anthony was still holding her.
Does he think the same? That I stole her happiness?
Just then, the door opened, and a doctor stepped out, clipboard in hand. He blinked, surprised to see me.
“Mrs. Möller? You’re her sister, yes? Come in.”
I walked in stiffly.
Natalie immediately sat up, flustered. “My head was hurting,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Anthony was just helping me relax.”
Anthony didn’t say a word.
But his eyes dropped to my bandaged hand, frowning as he noticed it for the first time. I quickly hid it behind my back.
The doctor glanced at his notes. “Well, Miss Montgomery,” he said, addressing Natalie, “you’ve had an allergic reaction. Looks like you can’t have chicken eggs.”
Natalie nodded, looking perfectly tragic. “I know that already. I told the family I was allergic to eggs after I came back… but my sister was married and living separately. She probably didn’t know.”
She turned to Anthony and gave him a soft smile. “Don’t blame her. It’s not her fault.”
My brows furrowed.
I hadn’t used eggs. Not in the pot pie and not in the dessert.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Also… one more thing. We ran a full panel while we were at it. Congratulations, Miss Montgomery.”
Everyone looked at him.
The doctor beamed. “You’re pregnant.”
The silence was deafening.
Pregnant?
Anthony blinked. Natalie went pale.
She didn’t even have a boyfriend. She barely left the house. Everyone knew that.
The doctor, sensing the tension, quickly wrapped up his notes and excused himself.
I couldn’t breathe.
I looked around for a chair but found no place to rest. I was still standing there, stunned, when Anthony finally opened his mouth to speak.
But Natalie beat him to it, bursting into tears.
“It must’ve happened at Dominic’s birthday,” she sobbed. “I drank a glass of wine… the one Eli handed me. The next thing I remember, I woke up in a strange man’s bed.”
My ears rang.
“What?” I said.
“I didn’t know what happened,” she wept, wiping her face. “I thought it was a dream. I tried to forget. But now…”
I stared at her.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked slowly. “Are you accusing me of drugging you?”
She gasped, looking shocked and wounded. “Well… didn’t you give me the wine?”
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Why are you yelling at me?” she whimpered. “I’m the one who got hurt. I’m just telling the truth. You’re misunderstanding me on purpose.”
My voice shook as I turned to Anthony. “She’s lying. You know she’s lying.”
He looked at me the way someone might look at a stranger on the street.
Cold.
“This is no way to speak to your sister,” he said.
My lungs collapsed inward.
“Apologize to her. Now.”
ELISHA’S POVShe left as gracefully as she’d arrived, full of thanks for my understanding, as if I had gifted her something meaningful. I suppose I had.I didn’t say anything. I don’t even remember how I responded. I watched her walk away, heels tapping against the pavement in a measured rhythm, and the sound followed me long after she disappeared around the corner.Only when I was back in the apartment—my apartment—did I finally break.There was only one pillow left on the sofa; the others were boxed away. I buried my face into that one, clawed at it, twisted the fabric in my hands, and let it absorb the sobs that had been burning inside me since I saw Anthony walk into the building with her.She’d been so calm. So composed. She hadn’t mocked me. She hadn’t raised her voice or made threats. She didn’t need to. And that made it worse. She was collected, self-assured, and direct.And I—I stood there like an idiot. Like someone who had forgotten her own dignity somewhere on the way in
ELISHA’S POVI had heard whispers.Not just in the idle chitchat that floats around parties or in the back rooms of offices. No. These were deliberate, quiet conversations. The kind that always began with someone leaning in and lowering their voice, as if the truth they were about to share was too heavy to say out loud.“Anthony’s father wants him to remarry.”Of course he did.Old money didn’t leave men unanchored. A man like Anthony—with his name, his reach, his potential volatility—wasn’t safe without a ring on his finger. The marriage didn’t need to be real; it didn’t even need to be happy. It just had to look good. Controlled. A wife signaled that he wasn’t drifting. That he was stable. Predictable. Safe for business. Safe for legacy.And when it became clear to his father that I wasn’t coming back, that I had finally drawn a line—I suppose other arrangements had been made. Quietly, of course.I didn’t know what Sylvester thought. Whether he’d protested or even known. If he had
ELISHA’S POVI took the glass he extended to me and noticed, for the first time, how nervous he was.It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but I saw it in the slight shake of his fingers and how his eyes darted to mine and then down again. Anthony, always confident, always in control, was uncertain tonight. There was no reason for him to be, not really. Not after everything we’d already been through. But maybe that was exactly why.Maybe because, finally, it was quiet between us. No battles, no layered meanings, no sharp words wrapped in softness. Just… us. And I think the quiet made him uneasy.I took a sip. Cool, sweet. It tasted like summer.He watched me for a reaction, his thumb twitching against the side of his glass. I looked at him directly, and I didn’t smile right away—I just let the moment hang there. The way the fading sunlight caught the edge of his jaw. The way he looked so boyish, despite everything he’d done, everything we’d survived. I gave him a small nod, then a smil
ELISHA’S POVThe hum of the air conditioning did little to cut through the quiet heat in the clinic that afternoon. It wasn’t quite busy, but the lull gave me a moment to catch my breath, finally settling at the breakroom table with Bethany, two lukewarm coffees between us.I leaned back, trying not to think about the day before, but the words were already forming.“Zane was waiting in the parking lot for you yesterday.”Bethany’s face froze mid-sip.“What?”I nodded, casually, but the weight of it was anything but.She sighed, setting her coffee down. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”“I’ve dealt with worse,” I replied. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just… he’s persistent.”Bethany tilted her head, eyes scanning mine. “I guess he isn’t used to being dumped?”“No,” I said with a short laugh. “I think he’s okay with something ending—as long as he’s the one ending it.”She smirked at that. “Of course. Classic.”“Typical of everyone in that group, really,” I added, voice dipping just enough to
NATALIE’S POVThe sun was blazing, the air thick with the scent of overgroomed turf, expensive colognes, and sweat disguised under perfume. I shifted uncomfortably in the white dress my mother insisted I wear, my hand resting on the mound of my belly, reminding me that I couldn’t drink.Not for another few months. Pity, because you’d need a barrel of alcohol to get through this farce. Everyone around me was sipping champagne or something equally bubbly, their laughter lilting through the private stands of the polo tournament like some perfect symphony of old money.I was bored out of my mind.Francesco’s father had organized the event, as he did every year. It was one of those elite traditions where nobody really cared who won the match, only that they got to show off their wealth to others attending in subtle ways while savoring the Michelin-starred catering. I sat on one of the shaded benches near the edge of the seating area, sipping a lukewarm glass of mango juice someone had h
ELISHA’S POVTo make things worse, Anthony pulled up beside me just as I unlocked my car.I blinked at the sleek, black vehicle as it slowed to a stop beside mine. The window rolled down smoothly—of course it did. His world was seamless, polished, effortless.I had driven myself to work that morning. I usually did now. But every few days—without warning or pattern—Anthony would show up like this. He’d call it convenience, or say he “happened to be in the area,” but I knew better.Mark would always take my car back to the mansion for me, without complaint. Like it was part of the routine. Like I wasn’t being… managed. Watched.Monitored.I should have hated it more. Some days, I did. But today? I didn’t know.There was something about seeing him just then—eyes flashing with immediate concern, lips tight, posture tense—that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t totally alone in the mess. That there was still someone on my side, even if the terms were… blurred. Complicated. May