The Heir They Denied
The sound of footsteps descended the stone staircase, the arrogant click-clack of high heels.
The iron door creaked open, and a blinding sliver of light pierced the darkness.
Stella stood there, dressed in an exquisite white suit, a massive diamond bracelet on her wrist and a ruby necklace at her throat.
She had been well cared for, her baby bump more prominent than mine, as if she were showing off a trophy.
"Well, look at you," she said, pinching her nose. "Right where you belong. It smells like rot down here."