Claudia dug her fingernails into her palms, the pain grounding her. She looked straight into Ezequiel's eyes, summoning every ounce of acting ability she possessed.
"I am not pregnant," she said, her voice steady and hard. "I have acute gastritis from stress. Because my husband is trying to bankrupt my father while sleeping with his ex-girlfriend."
The lie hung in the air.
Ezequiel let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. His shoulders relaxed. A smirk touched his lips.
"See?" He turned to his grandmother. "She's not pregnant. Just sick. Sick with jealousy."
Granddame stared at Claudia. Her eyes were intelligent, probing. She didn't look convinced, but she nodded slowly.
"Very well," she said. "Dinner is served."
They moved to the long dining table. It was set for three, the distance between them vast. The silverware gleamed under the crystal chandelier.
Servants appeared silently, placing plates in front of them.
"Trout Meunière," the chef announced.
The smell hit Claudia like a physical blow. The scent of warm butter and fishy oil wafted up from the plate. Her stomach convulsed violently. Saliva flooded her mouth-the precursor to vomit.
She grabbed her water goblet and downed it in one go, trying to wash away the nausea. She breathed through her mouth, staring at the fish's dead eye.
Ezequiel was watching her, a frown creasing his forehead. He noticed the sweat beading on her upper lip.
"So," Granddame said, slicing into her fish. "I hear the actress is back in town."
Ezequiel's knife screeched against his plate. "Alexa is not an actress. She is a victim."
"A victim?" Granddame let out a dry chuckle. "That woman is no victim, Ezequiel. She is a survivor, I'll give her that. But she is the type who knows exactly when to jump ship. She left when the water got rough, didn't she?"
The room went deadly silent.
Ezequiel stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His face was red with rage.
"That is a lie!" he shouted. "You forced her out! You threatened her family!"
"I offered her a choice," Granddame said calmly, buttering a roll. "I told her what life would be like if the company failed. I told her there would be no parties, no jewels, just hard work. And she made her decision. She chose the easy way out."
"You poisoned her against me!" Ezequiel slammed his fist on the table. The silverware jumped. "She told me everything. She told me how you tormented her. And now I'm going to make it right. I'm going to marry her."
"Over my dead body," Granddame said. "You will not bring that gold-digger into this house."
Ezequiel spun toward Claudia, his eyes wild. "Did you tell her? Did you tell Grandmother that Alexa was back?"
Claudia looked up, startled. "No. I didn't say anything."
"Who else would it be?" He pointed a finger at her. "You're the only one who gains from this. You're poisoning my family against her!"
"I didn't!" she cried.
"You are a snake, Claudia. A quiet, manipulative snake."
Granddame's hand moved faster than Claudia thought possible. She grabbed the heavy silver napkin ring from beside her plate and hurled it.
It flew across the table and struck Ezequiel squarely on the temple.
"Enough!" she screamed. "You ungrateful boy! Do not speak to your wife that way!"
Ezequiel stumbled back, his hand flying to his head. When he pulled it away, his fingers were stained red. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.
The servants gasped. Claudia stood up, her hand over her mouth.
"Ezequiel!" She took a step toward him, her instinct as a doctor kicking in. "Let me see."
He slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me."
Granddame stood up, her face purple with rage. She opened her mouth to shout again, but no sound came out. Her hand clawed at her chest.
Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.
