CHAPTER 2 “You didn’t mean to have s*x with my sister?

The silence after Naomi walked in was louder than any scream.

I stood there, numb, my body frozen as if my bones had turned to glass. The sting on my cheek from mother’s slap still pulsed beneath my skin, but it was nothing—nothing compared to the cold hollowness expanding in my chest. It was like my lungs had forgotten how to breathe.

“How… how could this happen?” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Naomi didn’t answer. She just stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her hand gently resting on her stomach like she’d always belonged here. Her expression was painted soft and sweet, almost apologetic—but her eyes… her eyes were a different story.

There was no remorse in them. Just calm calculation. Quiet, satisfied victory.

Mother clutched her arm tightly, shielding her like I was some vicious outsider. Not the wife. Not the one who’d lived in this house for three years. Not the woman who gave up everything just to be here. In their eyes, I was the problem. I was the shame.

I looked at Victor—my husband, my last hope. I searched his face for something, anything. A flicker of guilt. An explanation. A trace of the man I once loved. But all I saw was indifference. He adjusted his watch, walked to Naomi’s side and caressed her shoulders.

They smiled at each other as if I wasn’t even there.

Even the maids had stopped what they were doing. I could feel their eyes—some curious, others pitying but none of them are brave enough to say a word.

“So… it’s true,” I said, my voice a brittle whisper. “All of it.”

Victor sighed like he was tired of the entire scene. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I let out a broken laugh—harsh, dry. “You didn’t mean to have s*x with my sister? Do you really expect me to believe that lame excuse?”

Then mother stepped forward, her face twisted with rage. “Watch your tone. Naomi is carrying the Ravencroft heir. You have no idea the pressure she’s under.”

“Pressure?” I choked out, shaking my head. “You think I don’t know pressure? I’ve lived in this house for years, constantly trying to prove I belonged. I’ve done everything I could to be what Victor needed. What you all wanted. And now this? This is how I find out it was never enough?”

I turned to Victor. “What happened to us?”

Mother’s sharp voice cut through my words like a knife. “Just tell us the truth now, Alisa. Did you try to hide Naomi’s pregnancy? She told me you knew. That you threatened her.”

I stumbled back, stunned, my breath caught in my throat. “What?” My voice cracked as I stared at Naomi, betrayal burning behind my eyes. “Tell them. Tell them you’re lying.”

Naomi tilted her head, voice soft and trembling. “I didn’t want to say anything, Alisa. I didn’t want to hurt you… but I was scared. You’ve always been so emotional, I didn’t know what you’d do.”

Her performance was perfect—voice low, eyes watery, her hand protectively circling her stomach like she was the victim in all of this.

I felt sick.

“Why?” I asked her, voice barely above a whisper. “You already had everything. Why take him too?”

Mother sneered. “Enough. I’ve heard all I need. You’ve brought shame to this family. I never wanted you here to begin with. If you had a shred of dignity left, you'd leave. Now.”

Silence fell.

I stood there in the house I once tried to fill with warmth and love, surrounded by people who had never truly seen me. The coffee had gone cold. The bacon on the stove had stopped sizzling. Even the sunlight had disappeared—clouds now casting the kitchen in a dull, lifeless gray.

I turned to Victor one last time, hoping… praying…

But he didn’t say a word.

He simply turned his back and walked away, guiding Naomi and his mother into the next room. He closed the door without looking back.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said flatly, and then he was gone.

Something inside me cracked. Quietly. Completely.

I couldn’t even cry.

Past the whispering maids and the cold marble walls and empty chandeliers, I walked up the stairs, numb and heavy until I stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom.

The red mark on my cheek glared back at me but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was my eyes.

They looked like a stranger’s eyes, not mine.

I wasn’t Victor’s wife anymore. I wasn’t the bastard daughter trying to prove herself. I wasn’t the outsider clinging to a title that never truly belonged to me.

I was just Alisa Verene. The woman who was never chosen.

My fingers curled against the edge of the vanity. A single tear slid down my cheek.

“Victor… you said you loved me. What happened to your promises?” My voice was barely audible. “Was I never enough?”

My gaze drifted to the wedding photo on the nightstand. Us, smiling. A lie.

Then I grabbed it and threw it against the wall.

Glass shattered until a knock broke the silence. A maid peeked in, hesitant. “Mrs. Ravencroft? Shall I bring the first aid kit?”

Only then did I notice the blood on my hand from the glass. I hadn’t even felt it because the pain in my chest was louder.

“Where is my husband?” I asked, voice flat.

“Sir Victor and Madam Celeste have already left. They’re taking Ms. Naomi to the Verene estate. That’s what I heard.”

My heart sank.

Of course. My parents. My family.

Naomi’s safety mattered. Mine never did.

Without a word, I pushed past her, down the stairs, and into the garage. I didn’t even bother cleaning my wounds. Rage buzzed under my skin like electricity.

I got in the car, my bloody fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

She could have everything else. She could have the family, the house, the title.

But not Victor. Not like this.

“Naomi,” I muttered.

But as the engine roared to life, a bitter truth crept in.

I didn’t know if my father would even defend me. He never had before. And if he chose her too… then I truly had no one.

But this time, I wouldn’t be quiet.

Not anymore. I have to make things right—if not for this marriage, then at least for myself.