Morning sunlight burned my eyes. I woke up on the stiff leather sofa of my downtown office. My hand immediately dropped to rest flat against my lower stomach.
*One last chance,* I promised the tiny life growing inside me.
I had not told Damon about the pregnancy yet. Today, I would give him the opportunity to explain his actions at the hospital. If he apologized, we could figure this out.
I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to our shared penthouse.
I unlocked the front door and pushed it open. Soft giggles drifted from the hallway.
Sienna stepped out of the master bedroom. She wore my ivory silk nightgown. The delicate lace dragged along the imported hardwood floor, brushing against her bare feet.
"Aria," Sienna squeaked, clutching the collar of my sleepwear. "You came back."
"Take that off," I demanded.
Damon emerged right behind her. He wore gray sweatpants and no shirt. He placed a protective hand on Sienna's shoulder, shielding her from my glare.
"Lower your voice," Damon ordered. "She needs quiet."
"She is wearing my clothes," I pointed out.
"It is just a piece of fabric. Stop acting so petty." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Sienna is staying here until her heart stabilizes. You are going to help take care of her."
I laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound that echoed in the foyer. "Excuse me?"
"The hospital discharged her, but she requires a stress-free environment," Damon said. "You made a scene at the hospital yesterday. You owe her this."
"I owe her nothing. She ruined my wedding."
"She almost died, Aria! The world does not revolve around your schedule." Damon took a step forward, his shadow falling over me. "Sienna has nowhere else to go. Her apartment has stairs, and the doctor said she needs to avoid physical exertion. Be reasonable."
"Reasonable?" I tilted my head. "You abandoned me at the altar. You humiliated me in front of three hundred people. Now you bring her to our home?"
"It is temporary," he insisted.
Sienna stepped closer to him. The morning light caught a brilliant sparkle at her throat.
My bridal necklace. The diamond teardrop pendant I bought specifically for my wedding dress.
"Damon gave this to me," Sienna whispered. She traced the jewel with a manicured pink nail. "He said I needed cheering up after the terrible medical scare I had yesterday. It is so beautiful, Aria. I hope you do not mind."
"Take it off," I said.
"Aria, please," Sienna whimpered, shrinking behind Damon's shoulder. "I just wanted to feel pretty for a moment. Being sick takes such a toll on my self-esteem."
I did not yell. I walked straight up to her.
"Hey!" Damon shouted. "Leave her alone."
I bypassed him completely, grabbed the platinum chain at the back of Sienna's neck, and yanked hard. The clasp snapped.
"Ouch!" Sienna shrieked, stumbling backward into the wall. She rubbed her neck, tears welling in her eyes. "Damon, she hurt me!"
"Are you insane?" Damon lunged forward, checking Sienna's skin for marks. He spun back to me. "Give it back to her right now."
I dropped the heavy diamonds into my jacket pocket. I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen twice, and shoved it directly toward Damon's face.
"Cartier. Paris. Two million dollars," I said, reading the digital receipt aloud. "Paid directly from my personal bank account. Are you in the habit of gifting my financial assets to your ex-girlfriend?"
Damon flushed a deep, angry red. "I thought it was one of your brand sponsorships."
"You thought wrong." I turned toward the kitchen. "Maria!"
Our housekeeper hurried into the foyer, wiping her hands on an apron. "Yes, Miss Whitmore?"
"Go into the master bedroom. Pack this woman's bags. Throw them in the hallway by the elevators."
Maria nodded and rushed past us.
"Stop right there!" Damon roared. He stepped between Maria and the bedroom door, blocking her path.
"You are completely out of line, Aria. Sienna is my guest."
"Not in my house."
"We live together!" Damon yelled. "And since you want to act like a spoiled brat today, you can pack your own things. You are moving to the guest room. Sienna needs the master bed for her back."
I stared at the man I almost married yesterday. The father of the child I carried. The last shred of hope I held for our relationship vanished into thin air.
"I am moving to the guest room," I repeated.
"Yes. And you will apologize to her for scratching her neck."
"Or what?" I asked.
"Or we are done," Damon threatened. "I will not marry a woman who lacks basic human empathy."
I walked over to the entryway console table. I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a thick manila folder. I slapped it onto the marble counter.
"Read it," I commanded.
Damon frowned. "What is this?"
"The property deed." I tapped the bold print at the bottom of the first page. "Sole owner: Aria Whitmore. I bought this penthouse three years ago. You just moved your clothes in."
Damon stared at the paper. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"You do not pay the mortgage," I continued, my voice steady. "You do not pay the property taxes. You do not even pay for the groceries in that fridge."
"Aria," he started, his voice faltering.
"Both of you," I said, pointing at the front door. "Get out."
The heavy oak door swung open before Damon could form a rebuttal.
Julian Cross strolled inside. He held my silver emergency clutch in his right hand.
"You left this in the waiting room at St. Jude's," Julian announced.
"Bad timing?" Julian asked, tossing the clutch onto the sofa.
"Julian, tell your insane sister-in-law to calm down," Damon snapped. "She is trying to throw a sick woman out on the street."
"From what I just heard in the hallway," Julian said, leaning against the doorframe, "she is throwing you out, too."
"This is my home!" Damon shouted.
Julian let out a low whistle. He picked up the deed and skimmed the text. "Actually, it looks like you are just a squatter. You do not even know who owns the roof over your head, yet you are ordering the landlord out of her own master bedroom?"
Damon snatched the paper from Julian's hands. He scanned the legal jargon, his face turning a sickly shade of pale.
"You have always been terrible with paperwork, Damon," Julian mocked. "But missing the fact that your fiancé owns a ten-million-dollar property? That takes a special kind of ignorance."
"Shut up, Julian," Damon growled. He looked back at me. "Aria, we are partners. What is yours is mine."
"We never signed the marriage certificate," I reminded him. "You were too busy holding her hand."
Sienna swayed on her feet. She clutched her chest, her face contorting in exaggerated agony.
"Damon," she gasped. "It hurts. My chest is tight."
She collapsed.
Damon caught her before she hit the floor. He scooped her into his arms, shooting me a look of pure venom.
"If her heart fails, I will never forgive you," Damon spat.
"The elevator is to your left," I replied.
Damon carried Sienna out the door. Julian lingered for a second.
"You handled that well," Julian noted.
"Goodbye, Julian."
He raised his hands in surrender and followed his brother out.
The penthouse finally fell silent.
I rubbed my temples. My purse sat on the edge of the sofa. I unzipped it to find my phone charger, but my fingers caught on a folded piece of medical paper.
I pulled it out. The ultrasound photo from last week. The tiny black-and-white blur that represented my entire future.
I set it on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of ice water. My hands shook as I gripped the faucet.
A soft rustle came from the living room.
I peeked around the marble island.
Sienna stood by the sofa. She must have slipped back inside while the door remained unlatched. She held the ultrasound photo in her hand.
Her eyes darted from the paper to my stomach. A twisted smile spread across her face.
