Alina Phillips POV
The emergency room doctor pulled the suture thread through my skin in grim silence.
Jaxon stood in the far corner of the room, as far away from the blood as he could get.
He was hunched over, thumbs flying across his phone screen.
Every few seconds, a ping would sound. Sharp. Insistent.
Krystal.
"Is the tendon severed?" Jaxon asked, his eyes never leaving the glow of the device.
"No," the doctor said, snapping the thread. "But the scarring will be permanent."
"Fix it," Jaxon ordered, his tone clipping the air. "Call the plastic surgeon."
"It's fine," I said. My voice was dead, hollowed out by the last hour. "Leave the scars."
Jaxon finally looked at me.
"Don't be difficult, Alina. I want you perfect."
"Perfect for what?" I asked. "To be stored away again?"
He sighed, the sound heavy with impatience, and walked over to the bed.
He reached for my hand-the one that wasn't wrapped in gauze.
"I know this looks bad," he said. "But the marriage... it's just business. You know how the life is. I had to secure the southern borders."
"You have an heir," I said.
It wasn't a question.
I had heard the whispers at the party. The way the elites looked at her midsection.
Jaxon stiffened.
"We are trying," he said. "It's expected."
"So you sleep with her," I said.
"It's duty," he said.
"Do you kiss her for duty?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my resolve. "Do you hold her hand for duty?"
He didn't answer.
His phone pinged again.
He checked it immediately, and the hard lines of his face instantly softened.
"I have to go," he said. "Krystal is in distress. The incident with the dog upset her."
"She wasn't bit," I said. "I was."
"She's... delicate," he murmured.
He turned and walked out.
He left me alone in a room full of bloodied gauze to go comfort the woman who had ordered her beast to tear me apart.
Two days later was my birthday.
I didn't expect him to remember.
But a car was sent to pick me up.
It took me to Le Bernardin. The air inside smelled of expensive wine and the ocean.
Jaxon had rented out the private terrace.
He was sitting at a table with a velvet box.
"Happy birthday, little bird," he said.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes. He looked tired. Good.
I sat down.
"I don't want dinner," I said.
"Open it," he said, sliding the box across the table.
I opened it.
Inside was a jade bracelet.
It was intricate, expensive, and old.
It also had a distinct scratch on the inner rim.
I recognized it instantly.
I had seen it in a magazine three months ago.
On Krystal's wrist.
She had worn it to a charity gala.
He was giving me her cast-offs.
"It's beautiful," I said, closing the box with a snap. "Did she get bored of it?"
Jaxon frowned. "I bought it from a dealer in Hong Kong. It's unique."
"She wore it in Vogue," I said.
Jaxon's jaw tightened. "You're mistaken."
Suddenly, the sky lit up.
Streaks of light tore through the darkness above the city skyline.
A meteor shower.
I remembered sitting on the roof with Jaxon when I was eighteen.
I told him I wanted to see a meteor shower for my twenty-first birthday.
He remembered.
For a second, a tiny, stupid spark of hope flared in my chest.
Then the elevator doors slid open with a chime that sounded like a warning.
Krystal stormed onto the terrace.
She was dragging a black trash bag behind her.
She was screaming.
"You murderer!" she shrieked.
She lunged for the table and upended the sack onto the pristine white tablecloth.
The dead body of the Doberman slid out with a wet thud.
It was stiff. White foam crusted around its mouth.
"You poisoned him!" Krystal screamed, pointing a manicured finger at me. "Because he bit you! You vindictive little bitch!"
She slammed a bottle of pills onto the table.
My vitamins.
The sugar pills.
"I found these in the dog's bowl!" she yelled.
Jaxon stood up. "Krystal, calm down."
"She killed our guardian!" Krystal sobbed, collapsing into Jaxon's arms like a marionette with cut strings. "She's trying to hurt us, Jaxon. She's unstable. The clinic didn't work!"
I looked at the dead dog.
I looked at the pill bottle.
And then I saw the collar.
Tangled amongst the diamonds of the dog's collar was a piece of silver metal on a ribbon.
My breath stopped.
It was a Silver Star.
My father's medal.
The one Jaxon had kept in his safe.
The one he promised to give me when I turned twenty-one.
He hadn't just forgotten me. He had deemed her dog more worthy of my legacy.
