Seizing the moment when Claudius turned to get the water, Charlie threw off the quilt and scrambled off the waterbed. The sharp, cramping pain in her lower abdomen made her suck in a breath, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out.

She stumbled toward the marble bathroom attached to the master bedroom, her legs unsteady, each step sending a fresh wave of pain through her body. The cold floor beneath her feet only made the discomfort worse, but she didn't stop-she had to get away, to check, to confirm what she already feared.

She slammed the heavy frosted glass door shut behind her and flipped the lock, leaning against the cool Door panel as she gasped for air. Her chest heaving, her hands trembling, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the panic that was threatening to consume her.

Slowly, she pulled down her silk panties. When her eyes fell on the bright red stain on the crotch, her pupils dilated in horror. This wasn't her period. This was the bleeding she'd heard about in those terrible rumors-the bleeding that meant a pregnancy was in danger.

Just then, the phone on the bathroom counter began to vibrate violently, its screen lighting up with Corina's name. Charlie's heart skipped a beat-her sister, the one person who could see through her lies, the one person who might be able to help her.

She grabbed the phone, fumbling with the screen as she answered it, forcing her voice to sound lazy and normal, as if she was just waking up. "Hey, Corina," she said, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts.

Corina's sharp, cold voice came through the line, no-nonsense and demanding. "Where the hell were you this weekend? You were supposed to come back to the family estate on Long Island. I called you three times, and you didn't answer."

Charlie bit her lip,Endure it the pain in her abdomen as she lied. "I'm so sorry, Corina. I was with Ami in the Hamptons, doing a spa weekend. My phone died, and I forgot to charge it. I didn't mean to worry you."

Corina's tone softened slightly, but it was still laced with warning. "Listen to me, Charlie. The wind is changing on Wall Street. The Buchanan family is secretly buying up Powell shares. Stay away from them-all of them. Don't let Claudius Buchanan manipulate you. He's dangerous, and he doesn't care about you or our family."

Tears stung Charlie's eyes as she listened to her sister's warning. She knew Corina was right. She'd known it from the moment she'd gotten involved with Claudius, but she'd been too naive, too desperate, to admit it. Now, she was trapped, and there was no easy way out.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door, followed by Claudius's deep voice, laced with concern. "Baby, are you okay? You've been in there a long time. Is the pain getting worse?"

Charlie jumped, nearly dropping the phone. She quickly whispered into the receiver, "Corina, I have to go. The signal is really bad here. I'll call you back later, okay?" Before her sister could respond, she hung up the call and tossed the phone onto the counter.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to sound calm as she called out to him. "I'm okay, Claudius! Just a minute, I'll be right out!" Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her nervousness, but she hoped he wouldn't notice.

She knelt down and pulled open the bottom drawer of the vanity, rummaging through the contents until she found what she was looking for-a Clearblue digital pregnancy test that Ami had jokingly stuffed into her bag a few weeks ago, saying "just in case." At the time, Charlie had laughed it off, never thinking she'd actually need it.

Her hands shaking so badly that she could barely hold it, she tore open the packaging and followed the instructions, urinating on the test stick before setting it down on the marble countertop to wait. Every second felt like an eternity, and the cramping in her abdomen only grew worse.

Three minutes. That's what the instructions said. Three minutes to find out her fate. But to Charlie, it felt like a lifetime. The hourglass icon on the test's screen blinked repeatedly, taunting her, reminding her of how little time she might have.

Outside the bathroom, Claudius seemed to grow impatient. She heard him twist the doorknob, and when he found it locked, his voice turned dangerous, low and menacing. "Charlie, open the door. Now."

Charlie's eyes were fixed on the test screen, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Finally, the hourglass disappeared, and two clear words appeared on the screen: "Pregnant 3+." Pregnant. Three weeks or more.

Desperate tears spilled down her face as the reality sank in. She was pregnant. Pregnant with the child of the man who was trying to destroy her family, the man who had trapped her, the man she hated more than anything in the world.

Combined with the bleeding, she knew she needed to get to a hospital immediately. But she couldn't let Claudius know. If he found out she was pregnant, he would never let her go. He would use the baby to control her, to tie her to him forever.

She quickly wrapped the pregnancy test in several layers of toilet paper, shoving it deep into the bottom of the trash can, where it would be hidden from sight. She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and tucked it into her panties, trying to stop the bleeding, then smoothed out the hem of her nightgown, making sure no trace of the blood was visible.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her red, tear-stained face. She took several deep breaths, forcing herself to compose herself, to put on the act of the weak, suffering girl he expected her to be. When she was sure she could pass, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The moment the door opened, Claudius loomed in the doorway like a mountain, his tall frame blocking out the light. In his hand, he held a cup of warm brown sugar water, steam curling up from the rim.

His sharp eyes scanned her face, noticing the redness around her eyes and the paleness of her cheeks. His brows furrowed, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Have you been crying?" he asked, his voice softening slightly.

Charlie took advantage of the moment, leaning into his arms, her body trembling with a mix of real pain and feigned weakness. "It hurts so bad, Claudius," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. "The cramps are terrible. I can't stand it."

Claudius's eyes darkened, and he held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He held the cup of brown sugar water to her lips, watching as she drank it obediently, her hands still trembling.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm shadows across the marble floor of the penthouse bedroom. Claudius Buchanan sat on the edge of the bed, his large hand resting gently on Charlie's trembling shoulder.

"Let me call Dr. Hale," he said, his voice low with concern. "You look terrible."

Charlie shook her head violently, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks, splashing onto the back of his hand. "No," she whispered, her voice thick with sobs. "I hate him. He's so cold and clinical. I don't want anyone else here. I just want you."

To drive her point home, she reached down and peeled off the black lace underwear she had just changed into. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the wicker laundry basket beside the bed.

The bright, unmistakable stain of fresh blood stared up at them from the white fabric.

Claudius's jaw tightened. A complicated emotion flickered across his face-annoyance, sympathy, something else that Charlie couldn't quite place. Finally, he sighed and pulled her into his arms, wrapping his strong arms around her tightly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I should have known."

He slid one hand down to rest on her lower abdomen, his palm warm and heavy, and began to rub slow, gentle circles. "Does this help?"

Charlie buried her face in his chest, her body shaking with silent sobs that were half real, half performance. She could feel the tiny, fragile lives growing inside her, and she prayed that Claudius couldn't feel them too. She forced her muscles to relax, and slowly, pretending to be lulled by his touch, she closed her eyes and feigned deep sleep.

Two hours later, the soft chime of Claudius's laptop echoed from the study. Charlie's eyes flew open. She lay perfectly still for another ten minutes, listening to the sound of his deep voice as he conducted his transatlantic video conference.

When she was absolutely certain he was occupied, she slipped silently out of bed.

She pulled on a low-key Loro Piana cashmere tracksuit, a baseball cap, and oversized sunglasses that hid most of her face. She grabbed her phone and opened the encrypted messaging app. With a few quick taps, she sent a message to Dr. Evans, the most discreet obstetrician on the Upper East Side.

*Emergency. Need to see you now.*

The reply came instantly. *Come immediately. I'll clear my schedule.*

Charlie didn't dare wake the driver. Instead, she ordered a regular Uber and slipped out through the building's underground service entrance, the one that only the staff used. No cameras. No witnesses.

Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the discreet private clinic on Fifth Avenue. A nurse was waiting for her by the door and led her directly into the VIP examination room without a single question.

Dr. Evans looked up from her desk, her face immediately creasing with concern when she saw how pale Charlie was. "What happened? Are you bleeding?"

"A little," Charlie admitted, sitting down on the examination table. "I had a fall yesterday. I was scared."

Dr. Evans nodded briskly. "Let's do an ultrasound right away."

The cold gel squirted onto Charlie's stomach, and she shivered. She stared up at the ceiling, her hands twisted so tightly together that her knuckles turned white. She held her breath as the probe moved slowly across her abdomen.

And then Dr. Evans gasped.

"Well," she said, pointing at the screen. "That explains why you're feeling so run down. You're not just pregnant, Charlie. You're having twins."

Charlie's brain went completely blank. For a long, terrible moment, she forgot how to breathe. Twins. She was carrying two babies. Two babies that belonged to Claudius Buchanan.

But Dr. Evans's next words snapped her back to reality. Her brow was furrowed, and she was zooming in on one of the tiny, flickering sacs.

"However," she said slowly, "there's a significant amount of bleeding around this one. You're at very high risk of miscarriage. You need absolute bed rest for the next two weeks. No stress. No lifting. No sex."

Charlie sat up so fast the table creaked. She grabbed Dr. Evans by the white coat, her eyes wild with a desperate, determined madness.

"No one can know about this," she said, her voice low and urgent. "No one. I'm in the middle of a divorce. If my husband finds out, he'll take them from me. He'll destroy me."

She paused, swallowing hard. "I'm planning to go to Europe as soon as they're stable. I'll terminate the pregnancy there. I just need you to keep this quiet until then."

Dr. Evans looked at her for a long moment. She had seen it all in her years working for Manhattan's elite. The secrets. The lies. The broken marriages.

She nodded slowly. "Your file will be encrypted under a false name. No one will have access to it but me."

The nurse wheeled in the medication cart. Charlie rolled up her sleeve and watched as the nurse drew up a high dose of progesterone into a large syringe.

The needle plunged into her muscle, and a sharp, burning pain spread through her arm. Charlie bit down hard on her lower lip, not making a sound. She had endured far worse pain than this. She would endure far more.

When the injection was done, Dr. Evans handed her a prescription bottle full of oral progesterone pills. Charlie took them and, as soon as she was alone in the bathroom, poured every single one into an empty vitamin gummy bottle.

She stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her face was pale, her eyes dark with exhaustion and fear. But there was something else there too. Resolve.

She placed a gentle hand on her still-flat stomach. "I promise," she whispered to the two tiny lives inside her. "I will get us out of here. I will take you away from that monster. I promise."

She left the clinic and stepped out onto Fifth Avenue. The cold New York wind bit at her cheeks. Her phone pinged with a bank notification.

It was a charge on Claudius's supplementary card. He had just booked her the most expensive caviar afternoon tea at the Plaza Hotel.

Charlie stared at the message, and a cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. Even now, he thought he could buy her forgiveness with money. Even now, he was playing the part of the devoted boyfriend.

She hailed a yellow taxi and gave the driver the address of the Plaza Hotel. It was time to meet the person who would help her burn his world to the ground.

The gilded doors of the Plaza Hotel swung open, and Charlie stepped into the opulent lobby. The sound of a harp playing classical music drifted through the air, mixing with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive perfume.

She walked through the lobby and into the Palm Court, where afternoon tea was served every day. Ami Stevenson was already sitting at their usual table by the window, touching up her Tom Ford lipstick in a compact mirror.

"Darling!" Ami said, looking up and smiling. "You're late. I was starting to think you'd stood me up."

Charlie sat down across from her and casually placed the vitamin bottle full of progesterone pills on the table. "Sorry. Traffic was terrible."

Ami frowned, studying her closely. "You look awful. Did you party too hard in the Hamptons this weekend? I told you not to let Claudius drag you to all those ridiculous yacht parties."

Charlie gave her a bitter smile. "He's been... too nice lately. It's making me uncomfortable. Like he's waiting for something."

The waiter arrived and set down a three-tiered silver tray loaded with caviar, finger sandwiches, and pastries. Charlie stared at the cold, glistening caviar, and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She quickly picked up her cup of hot tea and took a long sip, forcing it down.

She set the cup down and looked at Ami, feigning casual curiosity. "Hey, hypothetically speaking... how do you completely destroy a man? Like, psychologically."

Ami's eyes lit up with excitement. She leaned forward across the table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh my god. Are you finally going to dump that controlling psychopath? I've been waiting for this day for months!"

Charlie shrugged, playing it off. "I'm just asking. What's the worst thing you can do to someone like him?"

"Break his pride," Ami said immediately. "Men like Claudius Buchanan have nothing but their ego. If you destroy that, you destroy them. Trust me. I've seen it happen."

She paused, swirling her tea spoon in her cup. A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Actually... there's someone you should know about. Corina Powell."

Charlie's fingers tightened around her teacup so hard she thought it might shatter. Her sister's name. Coming from her best friend's mouth.

"Corina Powell?" she repeated, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

"Oh, you don't know?" Ami said, looking surprised. "It's the biggest scandal that was ever swept under the rug in New York society. Two years ago, at the Met Gala after-party, Claudius got down on one knee and proposed to Corina with this insane pink diamond. Like, the rarest one in the world."

She leaned in even closer. "And do you know what she did? She took the ring, dropped it into a champagne tower, and told him to his face that she would never marry a nouveau riche bastard. In front of everyone. All the old money families. All the CEOs. Everyone."

Charlie stared at her, completely shocked. "Bastard? But he's the heir to Buchanan Industries."

"Legally, yes," Ami said, rolling her eyes. "But everyone knows his mother was some random mistress no one ever met. His father never married her. That's why he's so fucked up. That's why he's so obsessed with proving he belongs."

She reached across the table and squeezed Charlie's hand. "Look, I know you think he loves you. But everyone in the circle says the same thing. He's only with you because you look like Corina. You're her replacement. He's getting his revenge by dating her little sister."

The words cut through Charlie like a knife. Every last shred of hope she had ever had died right there. She had always suspected it. But hearing it said out loud, confirmed by someone else, was a different kind of pain.

She lowered her eyes, hiding the burning hatred in them. A cold, terrible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I see. Well, like I said, it was just a hypothetical question."

She changed the subject quickly. "Actually, can you do me a favor? Keep an eye out for MBA programs in Europe for me. Top ones. INSEAD. IMD. I'm thinking of going back to school next year."

Ami blinked, surprised. "Oh! That's a great idea! A Powell girl getting her MBA in Europe? Very chic. Of course I'll help you."

They finished their tea, and Charlie made her excuses to leave early. They hugged goodbye outside the hotel, and Charlie watched as Ami got into her chauffeured car and drove away.

She stood alone on Fifth Avenue, the cold wind whipping her hair around her face. She pulled out her phone and opened Instagram. She switched to her secret burner account, the one that didn't follow anyone and had no followers.

She typed in the name she had memorized: Vivianne Mercer.

The account was public. Charlie scrolled through the photos, and her stomach turned. Endless pictures of private jets, yachts, designer clothes. The perfect life of a billionaire's wife.

And then she saw it.

A selfie of Vivianne wearing a limited edition Van Cleef & Arpels ruby necklace. The caption read: *His love ❤️*

Charlie's hand flew to her collarbone. Around her neck, hanging on a thin gold chain, was the exact same necklace. The one Claudius had given her for her birthday last month.

A wave of nausea so powerful it made her dizzy crashed over her. She ripped the necklace off and stuffed it deep into the bottom of her Hermès bag, like it was something dirty, something contagious.

She stood there, shaking with rage and disgust, as the world around her continued to spin.