Sienna jumped, her fingers crumpling the ultrasound paper. She shoved it into her sweatpants pocket.
"I was just looking for a coaster," Sienna lied. She picked up a steaming mug from the coffee table and held it out. "I made you some herbal tea. To apologize for the misunderstanding earlier."
I stared at the murky liquid. White powder clung to the inner rim.
"What kind of tea?" I asked.
"Chamomile," Sienna answered too quickly. "It is good for stress."
"Set it down," I ordered.
She placed it on the glass surface and scurried toward the guest room.
I poured the tea into a plastic sample vial from my first-aid kit and handed it to Maria.
"Take this to the private clinic down the block. Tell Dr. Evans I need a rush analysis on this liquid. Pay him whatever he asks."
"Right away, Miss Whitmore," Maria said, rushing out the back door.
An hour later, Maria returned with a folded printout.
Mifepristone. An abortion drug.
I walked to the guest room door and leaned against the frame. Sienna sat on the edge of the mattress, scrolling on her phone.
"The tea was delicious," I said.
Sienna’s head snapped up. A triumphant gleam flashed in her eyes before she masked it with a sweet smile. "I am glad you liked it. You should rest now. A good sleep will do wonders for your body."
I stepped back into the hallway and pressed my back against the wall. I pulled out my phone, hit record, and waited.
A minute later, Sienna’s voice drifted through the cracked door.
"Yes, she drank it all," Sienna whispered into her phone. "How long does it take for the cramping to start? I need to make sure the miscarriage looks natural. No, Damon won't suspect a thing. He thinks I am an angel."
I stopped the recording.
The front door chimed. Damon walked in, carrying a plastic pharmacy bag.
"Aria, we need to talk," he started. "I bought some vitamins for Sienna—"
I bypassed him, walked into the living room, and slammed the lab report onto the coffee table. I tapped play on my phone.
Sienna’s voice filled the room. *“How long does it take for the cramping to start? I need to make sure the miscarriage looks natural.”*
Damon froze. The plastic bag slipped from his grip, pills rattling against the floorboards. He stared at the guest room door, then down at the lab results.
"Sienna!" Damon roared.
She rushed out, her eyes darting between Damon and the phone in my hand.
"Care to explain why you slipped abortion pills into my drink?" I asked.
Damon grabbed Sienna’s arm. "Is this true? Did you drug her?"
Tears spilled down Sienna’s cheeks instantly. She fell to her knees, clutching Damon’s pant leg. "No! I just bought some supplements for my heart! The pharmacy must have mixed them up. Damon, you know I would never hurt anyone. I am too weak to even stand."
She sobbed loudly, burying her face against his knee.
Damon’s tight grip on her arm loosened. He looked up at me. "Aria, it might be a mistake. The pharmacy could have messed up her prescription."
"The lab report says Mifepristone," I countered. "Do they prescribe that for heart conditions?"
"Let’s not call the police over a misunderstanding," Damon insisted.
I stared at the man I loved for three years.
"A misunderstanding?" I asked.
"She is sick," Damon pleaded. "Do not ruin her life over an accident."
"I am pregnant, Damon."
The room went dead silent.
Damon’s mouth parted. His eyes dropped to my stomach, widening in shock. The anger melted off his face, replaced by a blinding, ecstatic joy.
"Pregnant?" he whispered. "Aria, a baby? We are having a baby?"
He stepped forward, reaching his hand out to touch my stomach.
I slapped his hand away. "Do not touch me."
Damon flinched. "Aria, this is amazing news. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You are protecting the person who just tried to kill your child," I stated.
Damon paled. He looked down at Sienna, who was staring at my stomach with pure hatred.
"Pack your bags," Damon told her, his voice devoid of warmth.
"Damon, please!" Sienna shrieked.
"I am calling a car. You are leaving my home right now." Damon turned and marched toward the kitchen to use the landline.
Sienna scrambled to her feet. She did not follow him. Instead, she walked toward the grand staircase near the foyer, shooting me a venomous glare.
I followed her, keeping my distance.
"You think you won?" Sienna sneered once we reached the top of the marble steps. The tears were completely gone.
I pulled my phone out and quietly slid my thumb over the record button.
"You faked the heart attack at the hospital," I said.
"Of course I did," Sienna laughed. "I faked the chest pains. I faked the tears. And I put those pills in your tea on purpose. Damon belongs to me, Aria. He always has. You are just a convenient bank account."
"You are pathetic."
Sienna’s eyes dropped to the glowing red dot on my phone screen. Her face twisted into an ugly snarl.
"Give me that!" She lunged forward, her nails digging into my wrist.
She snatched the phone from my grip. Before I could react, she shoved both of her hands hard against my chest.
My feet slipped on the polished marble.
I fell backward.
Pain exploded through my spine as I slammed against the hard edges of the stairs. I tumbled down, my head striking the railing, my stomach taking the brunt of the impact.
I hit the bottom landing with a sickening thud.
Agony ripped through my abdomen. A warm, sticky wetness pooled between my thighs.
Above me, Sienna screamed. She
