Chapter Eight: Two Heirs

Vanessa closed the door behind her and leaned against it as if she owned the room.

"Give me that," she said.

"No."

"Seraphina." Vanessa's voice stayed light, almost fond. "I wasn't asking."

She crossed the small bathroom in two steps and plucked the test from Seraphina's grip. She studied it the way a jeweler studies a stone, then dropped it into the toilet and flushed.

"That was mine," Seraphina breathed.

"It was evidence." Vanessa tucked the key into her pocket. "Mrs. Holloway really should be more careful with her spare keys. Easy to borrow when she's asleep."

Seraphina rose, her back against the cold tiles. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all." Vanessa straightened a stray lock of her own hair in the mirror. "I only want you to understand how things work. Does Adrian know?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Then he never will." Her eyes met Seraphina's in the glass, and the sweetness slid away like a mask. "Margaret has been telling everyone for years that Adrian needs an heir. A proper heir, from a proper family. If you tell them, they'll destroy that baby before it's born, and you with it. I'm doing you a kindness."

"You're threatening me."

"I'm advising you." Vanessa smiled. "And if you choose to be foolish, I might mention to Margaret how often you've been slipping out to the pharmacy. For hours at a time. In a grey coat. Meeting a certain tall gentleman at a certain quiet café."

Seraphina's blood went cold.

"You've been following me."

"I told you to be careful," Vanessa said gently, and opened the door. "Dinner is at eight. Don't be late."

The dining room glowed with candlelight that night.

Seraphina took her seat at the far end, farthest from the head of the table, where the maids served her last. Margaret wore pearls. Adrian wore a rare, quiet smile. Vanessa, in a pale pink dress, glided in last and took the seat at his right hand, the seat that had once been Seraphina's.

Tell him, Seraphina's heart screamed. Tell him now. He has a right to know.

Tell him, said the quiet voice inside her, and see exactly who he is.

She would give him this one chance. One more. No tricks, no plans, no hidden phone. Just a wife and a husband and a child.

She opened her mouth.

"I have an announcement," Vanessa said brightly, rising with her glass.

Seraphina's breath froze.

"I wanted to wait until I was certain." Vanessa's free hand drifted to her stomach, soft and reverent. "The doctor confirmed it this afternoon. Adrian, darling... I'm pregnant."

The silence lasted exactly one heartbeat. Then Margaret shot out of her chair, tears springing to her eyes. "A child! Oh, my darling girl!"

"Vanessa." Adrian stood slowly, his face open in a way Seraphina had not seen in three years, awed, boyish, glowing. "You're sure?"

"Eleven weeks." Vanessa's eyes sparkled. "Our baby."

He crossed the room in three strides and lifted her off her feet. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her hands. Margaret clapped. A maid wiped her eyes. The room blazed with joy, and in the corner Seraphina sat with her fork clutched in her fist and her hand pressed flat against her own belly under the table.

Eleven weeks, she thought numbly.

Eleven.

"A Cole heir," Margaret breathed. "At last. A real one."

"Adrian," Seraphina said.

No one heard her. Her voice came out as a whisper.

"Adrian," she said again, louder.

He turned, annoyed, still holding Vanessa's hand. "What is it?"

"I'm pregnant too."

The room froze. The champagne glasses stopped in midair.

Margaret laughed, a short, ugly bark. "Oh, for heaven's sake."

"I took the test this afternoon." Seraphina's voice shook, but she held his eyes. "Five weeks. It's yours, Adrian. It's ours."

For a moment she saw it, the flicker she had waited three years to see. His brow furrowed. His mouth opened slightly. Something shifted behind his eyes.

Then Vanessa swayed, one hand to her temple, and whispered, "Adrian, I feel dizzy."

He was beside her in a heartbeat, one arm around her waist. "Sit, sit. Mother, get her water." He lowered her into the chair with tender, anxious hands, and when he looked up at Seraphina again, the flicker was gone.

"You're doing this now?" he said coldly.

"I'm telling you the truth."

"You're competing with her." His mouth twisted. "She announces a child, and suddenly you have one too? Do you think I'm a fool?"

"I can show you a doctor's—"

"Enough." The word cracked like a whip. "Vanessa is carrying the Cole heir. Do not ruin her night with your desperate games."

Margaret was already on her feet. She crossed the room and slapped Seraphina so hard the chair rocked beneath her.

"Liar," Margaret said softly. "Jealous, pathetic little liar. If you ever try to shame this family again, I will personally throw you out in the street."

Seraphina did not touch her face. She did not cry. She lowered her hand from the table and rested it quietly on her stomach, over the tiny, secret life no one in this room deserved to know.

Fine, she thought, very clearly. Then no one will.

Across the table, Vanessa sipped her water, her free hand tucked into Adrian's. She did not smile. She only looked at Seraphina with bright, steady, patient eyes.

Two heirs, those eyes said. That would be so inconvenient.

Midnight.

Seraphina knelt on the guest room floor, one hand braced on the bed. The black phone glowed in her palm, its screen the only light in the room. She had been staring at the same message for ten minutes.

It had arrived at 11:42.

Madam, I apologize for the hour, but this cannot wait. I had Miss Reeves' medical records pulled this afternoon. She is indeed eleven weeks pregnant. However, Mr. Cole's travel records show he was in Singapore from the 3rd to the 24th of that month, three full weeks, with Miss Reeves remaining in the city. The timing does not align.

Madam, I do not believe that child is his.

Seraphina read it a third time. Then a fourth.

Her breath came slowly. Somewhere in the walls, the old mansion creaked. Down the hall, Adrian's laughter drifted faintly from the master suite, warm and tender and not meant for her.

She laid her hand over her stomach.

Whose child are you carrying, Vanessa?

And what will you do when you realize that mine is the only one that is truly his?

A soft creak sounded on the other side of her door.

Seraphina went rigid. She slid the phone beneath the mattress and rose silently to her feet. Under the door, a thin line of hallway light flickered as a shadow slid across it, paused, and went still.

Someone was standing outside her room.

Someone who had been listening.