"Oh my god, rich people also eat at street vendors?"
"He must have bought it for his wife. They say Mr. Leon dotes on his wife. He recently bought a pair of earrings from a former princess at Sotheby's auction. It's said the accompanying handkerchief is worth 1 million!"
A handkerchief, neatly folded by me, lay on the dressing table. Leon once said he saw the moon embroidered on it and thought it fit me perfectly. He’d gone to great lengths to buy it. It turned out to be an extravagant whim.
He bought what Lila wanted and drove off. He had avoided several surveillance cameras to reach the house. But the cameras at Lila’s home—installed for Leon’s convenience—had already been hacked by the people I hired.
I chuckled. "Leon, there’s no need to look for her. I’ve already invited Lila home for tea."
His tall figure froze. "Claire, don’t be impulsive!"
He shouted, but I ignored him. I turned off the live feed and ordered the servants to silence her while she sobbed. "She’s so noisy—give her a few slaps to wake her up."
Lila’s eyes were full of anger. After she was slapped again and again, she spat the bloody rag out. "So what if they catch me? Leon will come save me!"
"Leon already said your mother will die of old age. I’m the most important person to him."
She grinned through a smear of blood and propped a hand against her still-pregnant belly. "No—my child and I are Leon’s family. We’re worth a hundred times more than an old woman who couldn’t give him an heir."
I kept my expression still, drew the dagger, and struck. "Then bring your child with you to death." The blade hovered a hair above her abdomen when a fierce force shoved my wrist aside.
The dagger clattered by my ear. I felt the hot snap of my wrist as if a bone were breaking. A sharp cry ripped from my throat, and I crumpled to the floor. Pain stabbed my belly. I thought of the three-month-old I’d carried and instinctively clutched my stomach.
When I looked up, Leon stood between me and my bodyguards, trying to pull Lila away. Tears streaked down her face.
"Leon, my face and belly hurt so much. Why would you all try to kill me? Do I deserve to die?"
"I never meant to kill Mrs. Quinn. It was an accident—my fault!" Leon’s eyes were raw with grief. He couldn’t see me, still curled on the floor.
"Claire, let her go!" He gripped my shoulders and hauled me to the sofa.
"Today, choose between me and Lila," I said, voice flat. "Make it clear." Leon stared at me as if I’d asked the impossible.
"You really want to make this so hard?" he whispered.
Tears streamed down my face, but a bitter laugh escaped me. Was this embarrassment? Choosing to lock my mother’s killer in jail—was that such a heavy ask? I hurled the spiked whip at Lila. "Or you can lash her yourself ninety-nine times. I’ll pretend I knew nothing and let her go."
She trembled and spat venomous words. "You monster! No wonder you can’t have children. No wonder your mother died young. I’m cursed—"
"I ran your mother over on purpose. Do you know what she said as she died? She kept calling your name!" I replied, cold as the room.
I sank back onto the sofa, face empty. "Leon, I’ll count to three. If you don't act, we’ll get divorced." He gave me a look that mixed shock and something like sorrow. For a long second, he hesitated, then picked up the whip and passed it to the nearest bodyguard.
The guard advanced. Lila screamed. Outside, the city moved on—ignorant, indifferent, and deaf to the private cruelties of a house that hid more than it showed. I watched him choose cowardice over justice, feeling something inside me harden; that night, I vowed I would not be the quiet wife who accepts lies—I would expose everything, even if it meant losing everything I had left soon.
