A few weeks later, the bitter autumn wind swept across the massive manicured lawns of the Pierce family estate on Long Island.
Carlota wore a simple, unadorned white chiffon wedding dress. The wind whipped the thin fabric against her legs. She gripped the handles of Jared's wheelchair, pushing him slowly down the short aisle toward the priest.
The guest chairs were mostly empty. The few Pierce family elders who did attend sat with faces carved from stone. The atmosphere was suffocatingly oppressive.
The priest opened his Bible and cleared his throat to begin the vows.
Suddenly, Eleanora Vance, Jared's stepmother, stood up from the front row. The loud scraping of her chair legs against the stone patio cut through the silence.
Eleanora marched straight to the center of the aisle. She raised her hand and violently hurled a thick stack of glossy photographs right into Carlota's face.
The sharp edges of the photo paper scratched Carlota's cheek. The pictures scattered across the green grass.
They were candid shots of Carlota working as a bottle girl at a high-end underground nightclub. She had taken the job to pay for Graham's meds. The angles were deliberately misleading, making her look like she was grinding against the wealthy patrons.
"You shameless gold-digger!" Eleanora shrieked, her voice echoing across the estate. "You think you can crawl into our family with your filthy tricks?"
Eleanora pointed a manicured finger at Carlota's stomach. "Everyone knows you are pregnant with a bastard! Some random street trash's child, and you want to pass it off as Pierce blood?"
The few guests began to whisper loudly, their eyes filled with disgust.
Carlota's face lost all color. Her chest tightened so hard she couldn't breathe. She gripped the rubber handles of the wheelchair to keep from collapsing.
Jared's face turned livid. He spun his wheelchair around, placing his body between Carlota and his stepmother.
"Shut your mouth, Eleanora," Jared barked, his voice laced with pure authority. "Security, remove her."
Eleanora laughed mockingly. "You are throwing away the family's dignity for a bankrupt whore, Jared!"
Carlota couldn't let Jared take this humiliation. She swallowed the massive lump of shame in her throat. She bent down, her knees trembling, and started picking up the degrading photos from the grass.
While the chaos erupted on the lawn, Harper Cantu, who had bribed a catering staff member to sneak onto the grounds, seized her perfect opportunity. She had been watching the ceremony from the shadows with venomous eyes. During the violent scuffle with Eleanora's security, Carlota's small designer clutch had fallen from the wheelchair's side pocket onto the grass. Carlota had planned to incinerate the diary and the report that morning to erase her past forever, but the sudden, early arrival of the Pierce elders had forced her to shove the evidence into her bag at the last second. Harper swiftly kicked it under an empty chair, retrieved it in the confusion, and quietly slipped away. She walked through the side doors and entered the estate's guest lounge.
Harper quickly unzipped the stolen clutch and dug her hands inside. She pulled out a small leather diary. Tucked inside the pages was a folded piece of paper.
Harper opened it. It was an ultrasound report from the private clinic.
Harper's eyes locked onto the gestational age printed in black ink. She did the math in her head. Her heart stopped beating for a full second.
The conception date matched perfectly with the night Donavan had been drugged at a charity gala nearly seven months ago.
Harper's face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly terror. Carlota wasn't carrying a stranger's baby. She was carrying Donavan Raymond's firstborn child.
Harper crushed the ultrasound paper in her fist, shoving it deep into her own designer purse. A dark, murderous intent flooded her veins.
Back on the lawn, the security guards finally dragged Eleanora away. The priest rushed through the final words. The wedding was over.
Carlota felt physically sick. She left Jared to deal with the elders and walked back to the guest lounge to rest.
She pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped inside.
Before she could turn on the lights, Harper grabbed her by the arm and violently yanked her into the room. Harper kicked the door shut and locked it.
Harper backed Carlota into the corner, her face inches away. "You lying bitch," Harper hissed, her eyes wild. "Tell me what happened that night with Donavan."
Carlota's heart hammered against her ribs. She tried to keep her face blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Harper pulled the crumpled ultrasound paper from her purse and shoved it against Carlota's chest. "The dates match! You are trying to steal my fiancé with this bastard!"
The lie was dead. Carlota pressed her back against the wall, her hands instinctively flying down to cover her stomach. "Don't do anything crazy, Harper. Jared is right outside."
Harper let out a manic, breathless laugh. "You think I'm going to let you ruin my life?"
Carlota tried to sidestep Harper and run for the door.
Harper lunged. She raised both her hands and shoved Carlota's shoulders with every ounce of strength she had.
Carlota was wearing high heels. Her ankles twisted. Her body flew backward.
Her lower back and side slammed brutally into the sharp, solid edge of the marble coffee table.
A sickening thud of bone against solid stone echoed in the room. Carlota let out a blood-curdling scream.
She collapsed onto the expensive Persian rug, curling into a tight ball. A blinding, tearing pain ripped through her abdomen.
Hot, thick blood began to pool beneath her, rapidly staining the pure white chiffon of her wedding dress a horrifying crimson.
Harper stared at the blood. For a second, panic flashed in her eyes. Then, she coldly smoothed down her skirt, turned around, and slipped out the side door into the gardens.
Seconds later, Jared burst into the room. He saw Carlota lying in the expanding pool of blood.
"Call an ambulance!" Jared roared, his eyes turning red with absolute despair.
