“No… no… no!”
The words tore out of me as he violently kicked what was left of the urn. The broken pieces scattered across the marble, flying in different directions before smashing against the wall. Shards of ceramic rained down like falling glass.
I couldn’t move.
My body locked in place, breath trapped somewhere deep in my chest. It felt like my lungs had forgotten how to work.
Something inside me snapped—my chest tightened violently. A sound tried to come out of me, but it wasn’t a scream or a cry. It was something worse. Something broken beyond repair.
Vincenzo stepped directly in front of me.
His hand grabbed my face, fingers digging into my cheeks so hard I could feel pressure against my teeth, against bone.
“That’s enough,” he said low and cold. “Stop this performance.”
I stared at him, blinking slowly. His face was empty. No anger that made sense. No remorse. No grief. Just… nothing.
“I almost believed you,” he said flatly. “For a second, I almost felt sorry for that dead little act of yours.”
His thumb dragged along my jaw, rough and deliberate. It burned.
“But then the hospital sent everything. Videos of Gabriel smiling. Sitting up. Laughing. The doctor confirmed you twisted the story. Said you manipulated him. That you let him act sick just to get attention.”
A lie.
Her lie. Lena’s lie.
My eyes drifted past him without thinking—to the stairs.
And there she was.
Lena stood halfway up, one hand resting lightly on the railing. The dim light caught her face just enough for me to see it—the faint curve of her lips, that small satisfied smile she thought no one noticed.
She did it.
She bought the story. She paid for it. She built the lie piece by piece.
And Vincenzo believed every word like it was truth carved in stone.
They started walking upstairs like nothing had happened.
Lena leaned into his shoulder as they went, moving slowly, almost delicately, like she was made of something fragile.
“Come to bed, amor,” she murmured softly. “I can’t stay down there another second with her.”
Noel glanced back once. Just once. His expression twisted in disgust before he lifted his chin and followed behind them.
And then the house went quiet.
I was still on the floor.
Blood on my hands. Broken pieces around me. I gathered what I could of my son with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking, even though there was nothing whole left to hold.
Time passed after that—but I couldn’t tell how much. The world stopped feeling like it moved at all.
I never slept.
I just sat outside my room with my knees pulled tight against my chest. Dried blood stained my palms. Salt clung to my lips from crying I didn’t even remember doing.
Then, sometime after midnight—
A cough broke the silence.
Vincenzo’s voice followed immediately, sharp and panicked.
“Lena—look at me. What is it? Tell me where it hurts.”
I didn’t move.
Her voice suddenly rose, filling the hallways like a storm trying to break through the walls.
“I can’t breathe!” she gasped. “Vincenzo—my chest… my stomach… she cursed me! That urn… ever since she brought it into this house, something’s been wrong!”
Footsteps thundered. Vincenzo paced. Cursed under his breath.
“That woman…”
Lena’s voice dropped again, trembling now, soft like she was on the edge of collapse.
“I heard the maids… they said she brought poison. Something meant for me. Maybe she hid it in the urn… maybe she wanted me gone.” She gasped shakily. “I’m scared, Vincenzo… I’m pregnant… I don’t want to die…”
The door burst open.
Vincenzo stormed in.
His rage hit the room before his body did—thick, suffocating, sharp enough to make my skin crawl.
He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up so fast my feet barely had time to move.
“You did this.”
Pain shot through my arm. My ankle twisted under me. His grip was unrelenting.
“You poisoned this house,” he growled. “You cursed her. You knew she was carrying my child and you still brought death into my home.”
“I didn’t—”
He pulled me forward violently, cutting my words off mid-breath.
“She almost died tonight!” he shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Huh? You wanted her gone?”
He dragged me into their room and shoved me hard.
“KNEEL.”
I stayed standing.
“I said kneel.”
“No.”
The slap came fast.
My head snapped to the side. White flashed behind my eyes.
“On your knees.”
I still didn’t move.
So he kicked the back of my legs.
Pain exploded upward. My knees hit the floor hard. Skin tore. Warm blood spread beneath me.
Lena sat on the couch like she was watching a stage performance. Perfect posture. Controlled breathing. One hand resting on her stomach like she was protecting something precious.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were sharp.
“I don’t believe her,” she whispered. “She doesn’t sound sorry. Make her say it louder, Vincenzo. I want to hear it.”
Vincenzo stood behind me like a shadow waiting to fall.
“Apologize,” he ordered. “Until she forgives you.”
My voice trembled as it came out.
“I’m sorry.”
It broke halfway.
“I’m sorry.”
Again.
“I’m sorry.”
Again and again until my throat burned raw and my chest felt hollowed out, like something inside me had finally given up trying to survive.
Then Lena suddenly stood.
She swayed slightly, one hand clutching her stomach.
“Vincenzo… something’s wrong,” she whispered, voice shaking perfectly. “My stomach… I think I’m bleeding…”
And just like that—
She collapsed straight into his arms.
Flawless.
Like she had practiced it.
Vincenzo caught her instantly, holding her like she was the only thing keeping the world intact.
“Lena… amor!” His voice cracked as he cupped her face. “Stay with me. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. Breathe… just breathe.”
Her eyelids fluttered weakly, like she was fading away.
“Vincenzo… I’m scared…”
His head snapped toward the hallway.
“Get the car—NOW!” he roared, voice shaking the entire house.
