A sharp gasp shattered the solemn silence of the family chapel.
Every head turned toward the incense in Vivian's hands. The color drained from their faces in an instant.
Everyone knew that a broken incense stick during an ancestral rite was the worst possible omen.
A sign of catastrophe.
And in nearly a hundred years of Vance family history, it had never once happened.
"It really is a broken incense stick!"
"Does this mean disaster is coming for the Vances?"
Panic rippled through the crowd, voices overlapping in frantic whispers.
"Could it just be a bad batch of incense?" someone muttered under their breath.
"Nonsense!"
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, Great-Uncle Harold's voice cracked through the chapel like a whip.
His expression was grave, his eyes locked on the broken stub of incense still clutched in Vivian's trembling fingers.
"That incense was specially blessed at the temple. Premium sandalwood. It doesn't just snap for no reason."
"We must have done something to violate tradition. The ancestors are furious. This is their warning."
"That's right, that's exactly it." The others nodded in fervent agreement.
Someone pointed at Vivian and let out a cold snort.
"Everything was perfectly fine until she stepped up to offer incense. She's the one who angered the ancestors."
"Exactly. Offering incense to the ancestors isn't some game. You can't just let any nobody waltz up and do it."
In an instant, every pair of eyes in the chapel fixed on Vivian's face.
The blood drained from her cheeks.
Humiliation and panic flickered across her features in rapid succession. She glanced instinctively toward Leah.
Leah said nothing. The disappointment on her face was unmistakable.
Vivian's eyes rimmed red, and she turned helplessly toward Tristan.
"Tristan!"
But she was met with a cold, faintly accusatory stare.
Tears slipped down Vivian's cheeks.
Not a single person stepped forward to comfort her.
Her gaze darted frantically through the crowd. Then, suddenly, she thrust out a finger.
"It was her. She set me up."
Every eye in the room swung toward me. Including Tristan's.
There was scrutiny in those gazes. And suspicion.
"I didn't."
I looked at Tristan, my expression calm, and shook my head.
"You're the only one who touched the incense. If it wasn't you, then who?" Vivian's voice broke between sobs, each word more certain than the last. "You're jealous that I gave Tristan a son. That's why you sabotaged me."
She sounded so convinced, so utterly sure of herself, that the suspicion in the crowd's eyes slowly deepened into something more pointed.
When Jayden saw his mother crying, he balled up his small fists and charged straight at me.
"You're a bad woman!"
"You're bullying my mommy! I'll beat you up!"
He was small, but his fists were anything but weak. Each blow landed hard enough to make me grunt through clenched teeth.
I didn't want to stoop to fighting with a child. But he wouldn't stop. One hit after another after another.
And the people around us just stood there. Arms folded. Watching. Not one of them moved to intervene.
I couldn't take it anymore. I raised my hand to push him away.
But the moment my arm lifted, before I could even apply any force, Jayden's body lurched backward.
In that split second of confusion, I caught it: the malicious curl at the corner of Vivian's lips, and the leg she hadn't quite pulled back in time.
Jayden's forehead struck the bronze censer sitting on the altar table.
Blood seeped out immediately, bright and red.
"Jayden!"
Vivian let out a ragged scream and threw herself over her son.
I stared at the scene in front of me, unable to believe what I'd just witnessed.
This woman had used her own child's life as a pawn, just to frame me.
"Isabel, when did you become so vicious? You can't even spare a four-year-old child?"
Tristan's voice was ice-cold, his glare cutting through me like arrows.
Vivian suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me with a loud thud, pressing her palms together, kowtowing through her tears.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I'll apologize to you. I'll get on my knees for you."
"Please, just leave me alone. Leave my child alone."
In that instant, every pair of eyes in the room turned on me with condemnation.
I held Tristan's gaze, unflinching.
"If I told you it wasn't me, I'm guessing you wouldn't believe me."
Of course not.
"Isabel, you've truly disappointed me."
He rammed his shoulder into mine as he passed, scooping up the child and striding toward the door.
I stumbled back two steps. The small of my back slammed into the corner of the altar table behind me, and a sharp hiss escaped through my teeth.
Tristan didn't even slow down.
A dull, cramping pain radiated through my lower abdomen.
I frowned slightly, pressing my hand against it.
If I was remembering correctly, my period was already two weeks late.
The pain intensified, wave after wave, and then a warm trickle ran down the inside of my thigh.
"Blood!"
Someone pointed at my pants, their voice shrill with alarm.
