Chapter 1: The Shattered Locket
The ballroom remained suspended in a suffocating silence.
Evelyn kept her eyes fixed on the broken locket in her palm.
She did not look at Adrian.
She did not need to see his face to know the exact shade of cold fury settling over his features.
Charles Vale took a sudden, erratic step forward.
His midnight-blue tuxedo seemed to hang loosely on his frame all at once.
He stared at the photograph of the two women in hotel uniforms as if it were a ghost pulling itself from the marble floor.
“Where did you get that picture?” Charles demanded.
His voice shook.
It was a terrifying sound coming from a man who had spent three decades building an empire on absolute control.
Adrian shifted his stance.
He placed himself seamlessly between Charles and Evelyn.
“Step back, Charles,” Adrian said.
The command was quiet.
It was also absolute.
Bianca finally found her voice.
“Dad, what is going on?” she asked.
She looked from her father to Adrian, then down to Evelyn, her confusion masking her earlier cruelty.
“She is a waitress,” Bianca continued.
“She is my wife,” Adrian corrected.
He did not raise his voice.
“And if you or your father take one more step toward her, I will dismantle your family’s holdings before midnight.”
Evelyn felt Tessa’s hand trembling on her arm.
“I need to get out of here,” Evelyn whispered.
The weight of the room was pressing against her chest.
The baby kicked sharply against her ribs.
Adrian heard her.
He turned, his expression softening instantly as he looked at her pale face.
“Martin,” Adrian called out.
The general manager snapped to attention.
“Clear the private elevator,” Adrian ordered.
“Right away, Mr. Cross,” Martin replied.
Adrian reached out to support Evelyn’s lower back.
She wanted to pull away.
She wanted to remind him that he had lost the right to protect her six months ago.
But the pain in her lower back was radiating into her legs.
She allowed him to guide her toward the hallway.
As they reached the heavy oak doors, Evelyn glanced over her shoulder.
Charles Vale was pulling a phone from his pocket.
His face was ashen.
He was staring directly at Evelyn’s stomach.
May you like
It was not a look of surprise.
It was a look of pure, unadulterated panic.
