CHAPTER 5 “Your precious Naomi is carrying my husband’s child.

I woke up to the dull ache of a hangover pressing against my skull and the unfamiliar scent of clean linen. My throat was dry, my limbs heavy, and the dim morning light slipping through the curtains made my eyes sting. Even the faint hum of the air conditioner seemed too loud, like the world itself was punishing me for existing.

Where was I?

My head throbbed as I slowly sat up. The room around me was neutral—beige walls, minimal furniture, no personal touch. A hotel, probably. A high-end one, judging by the silence and the quality of the sheets then my eyes landed on a glass of water on the nightstand beside me, condensation still clinging to the glass.

My heart leapt in panic as I looked down at myself.

I was still in my clothes.

Sandals gone. Purse missing. But everything else intact.

Then I released a shaky breath, fingers brushing the hem of my dress as if to confirm it again. Nothing really happened. My body didn’t feel violated. There were no bruises, no rips, no cold sense of being used, just the taste of alcohol.

Whoever that man was—he didn’t take advantage of me.

And yet… something about the night before clung to me like fog. A scent, a whisper that I could not remember. The warmth of someone holding me up when I couldn’t stand. And that kiss.

My hand drifted instinctively to my lips.

That kiss had felt so real. Slow. Warm. Full of something I didn’t know how to name. Not hunger—no, it wasn’t that kind of kiss. It was gentler, deeper. A pause in the chaos. A moment of unexpected tenderness but maybe it had just been a dream. A drunken hallucination stitched together from loneliness and despair.

I shook the thought away. I couldn’t afford to hold onto ghosts.

After rinsing my face with cold water in the bathroom and forcing down the glass of water, I headed to the front desk. The concierge gave me a practiced smile and told me the room had been prepaid. No name. Just a note left behind in clean handwriting:

"Get home safe."

I tried asking them who it was but they insisted that they could not just hand the information because it was confidential.

No signature. No clue. Just another mystery to file away beneath the weight of everything else.

After that, I climbed into a cab, my body moving automatically, numb and slow, as if I were watching myself from the outside. The Ravencroft mansion came into view twenty minutes later—still pristine, still perfect, still not mine.

I didn’t know what I was walking into.

But I couldn’t run forever.

The house was quiet when I entered, not the usual quiet of a wealthy home where the noise is muffled by money and cold marble. This was different. Hollow. Unsettling. The grand chandelier above me didn’t sparkle—it loomed. The halls didn’t echo with footsteps or voices either.

I stepped further in and I called out once—just to test the silence.

No answer.

I walked into the bathroom and washed away the remnants of last night—the sweat, the makeup, the taste of regret clinging to my tongue. After that, I collapsed onto the bed Victor and I once shared, the same bed where we used to make love. Now, it felt colder. Emptier. My body was drained, my mind unraveling at the seams. I lay there for what felt like an hour, staring blankly toward the grand double doors, utterly numb.

Then a knock on my door.

I rose slowly, legs stiff. As I rounded the corner of the stairwell, I caught sight of them through the glass—my father and her.

Clarisse Verene.

My father’s second wife. My stepmother. Naomi’s biological mother.

The woman who married him before my mother’s body had even gone cold.

She raised Naomi like royalty and treated me like the family’s unpaid intern—useful, invisible, and easily dismissed.

Always present. Always poised. Always cold.

They stepped inside with the entitled air of people who knew they were welcome.

My father looked me over the same way he would glance at a cracked vase in the hallway—displeased, but not enough to throw it away without a replacement while my stepmom’s eyes were sharper. Calculating.

“You look awful,” she said, tone dripping with disdain, her clutch hanging from her wrist like a gold-plated weapon. “No wonder Victor’s lost interest.”

The words barely stung. Not because they weren’t cruel, but because I was too tired to bleed anymore.

I stood straighter, brushing my hair behind my ears. “You came all this way just to insult me, mother?”

My father gave a sigh that was more annoyance than concern. “We came because you made a scene. You embarrassed the family.”

I let out a short, hollow laugh. “I embarrassed the family?” My arms folded across my chest, grounding me. “Your precious Naomi is carrying my husband’s child. In secret. While living under your roof. And I’m the disgrace? Do you even hear yourself, father?”

Mother didn’t flinch. If anything, she looked bored. “Naomi is the one who matters now. She has the image, the future, the press. And none of them know the truth yet. Let’s keep it that way.”

I blinked. Once. Twice.

There it was.

Not even an ounce of remorse. Just strategy.

“So, you want me to stay quiet,” I said slowly, voice flat. “Pretend this never happened.”

Her smile was small but smug. “You always were the smarter one.”

My father nodded, as if this was some contract negotiation and I was being handed a severance package. “We’ll make arrangements. Leave the Ravencroft name quietly. With dignity. No drama.”

Dignity. I almost laughed again.

I looked between them—two people who had molded Naomi into a porcelain doll of perfection while leaving me behind to crack and mend myself alone. Two people who had never chosen me. Not once. Not when I was small. Not when I needed them.

Not even now.

My throat burned, but I refused to cry in front of them.

“You’re right,” I said, stepping back. “There won’t be any drama.”

Relief flickered in their eyes.

But I wasn’t finished.

“There will be something else,” I added, voice cold as steel.

They blinked—hesitation cracking through their practiced calm. But I didn’t wait to see the reaction. I turned and walked up the stairs again, one step at a time, back straight, heart thundering.

I didn’t know what those consequences would be.

Not yet.

But for the first time in my life, I had nothing left to lose.

Since in the first place, I really had nothing.