Charlotte POV

My phone buzzed against the vanity, vibrating with a text from Clara.

Running late. Drinks at 8?

Clara was the only friend Aiden allowed me to have-mostly because she was tech support for the Family, and he figured he owned her just as much as he owned me.

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering.

I typed back:

Cancel. Something came up.

I didn't want drinks. I didn't want the leash.

I wanted out.

I sat at the vanity and pulled a heavy piece of cream stationery from the drawer. My hand didn't shake as I wrote down the name. A lawyer I had met once at a gala. A woman with shark eyes who specialized in "difficult" divorces.

I would give him everything.

The house. The cars. The jewelry.

I didn't care about the money anymore. I just wanted my name back.

I flipped open my laptop and booked a one-way ticket to Zurich for tomorrow morning.

Non-extradition.

I snapped the laptop shut and looked around the room.

It was a museum of apologies.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper" diamond earrings.

"I'm sorry I didn't come home for three days" designer bags.

I gathered them all.

Photos. Letters. The dried rose from our first anniversary, now brittle as bone.

I threw them into the fireplace.

I struck a match and watched the flame catch the curled edge of a photograph. In the picture, Aiden was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.

The fire curled his handsome face into ash.

Good.

The front door slammed downstairs.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a conditioned response of pure terror.

The bedroom door flew open.

Aiden stood there.

He was wearing a black suit, the crisp white shirt underneath splattered with specks of crimson.

Fresh blood.

His eyes were wild, scanning the room for threats until they landed on me.

"You didn't answer your phone," he growled.

He crossed the room in two predatory strides.

"I was busy," I said, forcing myself not to look up from the dying fire.

He stopped.

He wasn't used to that tone. He was used to "I'm sorry, Aiden" or "I didn't hear it, Aiden."

He frowned, the adrenaline-fueled anger shifting to confusion, then suspicion. "What are you burning?"

"Trash," I said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, black velvet box.

"I brought you something."

He snapped it open.

A diamond tennis bracelet glittered in the firelight. Cold. Expensive.

I knew exactly what it was.

"Give me your wrist," he ordered.

I held out my arm.

He clasped it on. It felt heavy, like a shackle.

"It has a new GPS chip," he said casually, his thumb stroking the pulse point of my wrist. "Better range. So I always know you're safe."

Safe.

Caged.

"Do you love me, Aiden?" I asked.

The question hung in the smoke-filled air.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes void of warmth.

"I own you, Lottie," he said. "That's more than love. Love is weak. Ownership is forever."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. His lips were corpse-cold.

"I need to shower. I smell like a rat."

He walked into the bathroom.

The water turned on, a hiss of steam masking the silence.

His burner phone was sitting on the dresser.

He never left it unlocked. But he was rattled today. Sloppy.

I picked it up.

No passcode.

I opened the messages.

Haven: He's asking for you.

Aiden: Be there soon. Keep him calm.

Haven: We miss you. Come home.

Aiden: I'm trying. She's being needy.

Needy.

I put the phone down just as the water shut off.

Aiden walked out of the bathroom a minute later, a towel low around his waist.

His phone buzzed on the dresser.

He picked it up, read the screen, and his face changed. The mask of the cold Capo dropped, replaced by something frantic.

"I have to go," he said, pulling on fresh clothes.

"Union emergency?" I asked, the lie tasting like bile in my throat.

"Yeah," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Trouble at the docks. Don't wait up."

He grabbed his keys.

"Aiden," I said.

He paused at the door, hand on the frame.

"Leo is sick, isn't he?"

He froze.

He turned slowly. "What did you say?"

"I heard you on the phone earlier," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "With your brother."

The tension left his shoulders. "Yeah. The kid has a fever. Haven is freaking out. I need to go handle it."

He opened the door.

I could hear the phone in his hand connect before he was even down the hall.

"Daddy's coming, Leo. Hold on."

And then I heard it.

Through the silence of the hallway.

A child crying.

"I want my daddy!"

Aiden didn't look back at me.

He ran.

He ran to them.

I stood there, the diamond shackle dragging down my wrist.

He wasn't just cheating.

He was a father.

And I was just the ghost haunting his house.

Charlotte POV

I woke up on the bathroom floor.

The world was tilting on its axis, my head spinning, my skin burning hot.

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out like water.

I must have called Clara in my delirium.

I don't remember dialing, but suddenly she was there, her cool hands a stark contrast against my fevered forehead.

"Jesus, Lottie," she hissed, her voice tight with panic. "You're burning up."

She didn't take me to the hospital.

Hospitals meant paper trails. Records. And records meant Aiden would find me.

Instead, she drove me to a private clinic in the city-a sterile, nondescript building that dealt in cash and anonymity.

I lay in the pristine white bed, the cool slide of an IV dripping into my arm.

Clara sat in the chair, watching me with eyes dark with worry.

"You have to tell me what's going on," she said. "You look like you've been in a war."

"I have," I rasped.

And so, I purged it all.

I told her about the ledger. The missing money. Leo.

The phone call.

Clara didn't speak for a long time.

Then, with shaking hands, she reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, ignoring the sterile environment.

"That son of a bitch," she whispered, the smoke curling around her words. "I'll kill him. I'll hack his accounts and zero him out."

"No," I said, my voice weak but steady. "I just want to leave."

"Then we leave," she said fiercely. "I'll help you."

The fluids were doing their work; I needed to use the restroom.

Clara moved to help me, but I waved her off. "I can walk."

I shuffled down the hallway, clutching the IV pole for support.

The clinic was quiet.

Expensive.

This was where the city's elite came to bury their sins and stitch up their scandals.

I passed a VIP waiting area.

The heavy door was cracked open just an inch.

Then I heard a voice that made my blood freeze in my veins.

"He called him a bastard, Aiden."

It was Haven.

I stopped dead, pressing my back against the cold wall.

"Who?" Aiden's voice was a low growl. A dangerous, familiar sound.

"Some kid at school," Haven sobbed. "He said Leo doesn't have a dad. He pushed him."

"I'll handle it," Aiden said, the promise of violence heavy in his tone. "I'll tear the school apart if I have to."

"You can't," Haven wept. "We have to be secret. You said we had to be secret."

"Fuck the secret," Aiden snapped.

I peeked through the crack.

Aiden was kneeling in front of Haven.

He was holding her hands, rubbing them with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years.

He looked... desperate.

"I protect what's mine, Haven. You know that."

"Do you?" Haven looked up at him, tears streaming down her flawless face. "Because I'm pregnant again, Aiden."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I covered my mouth to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape.

Aiden stared at her, stunned.

"Pregnant?"

"I'll get rid of it," Haven whispered, trembling. "I know it's a mistake. I know you have... her."

"No," Aiden said immediately.

He stood up, turning away from her to punch the concrete wall.

Crack.

His knuckles split. Blood bloomed like a dark rose on the grey paint.

He didn't scream.

He just breathed heavily, his shoulders shaking with the force of his emotion.

With me, when the rage took him, he threw things at me.

With her, he hurt himself to keep from scaring her.

He turned back to her, his face resolute.

"We keep it," he said. "I'll fix this. I'll make you official. I'll give you status in the Family."

"What about Charlotte?" Haven asked, her voice small.

"Charlotte doesn't matter," Aiden said, waving a hand dismissively. "She's barren anyway. This... this is my blood."

Barren.

The word hung in the air, sharp and cold.

I wasn't barren.

I was on birth control pills he had replaced with placebos years ago, desperate to breed an heir. But I had been taking my own hidden stash, terrified of bringing a child into his violent orbit.

He thought I was broken.

But I wasn't broken. I was protecting the one thing he couldn't touch.

And now, he was replacing me.

I walked back to my room, my steps silent.

I didn't cry.

I was done crying.

Two days later, Clara drove me back to the estate.

The divorce papers felt heavy in my bag, a physical weight.

I walked into the living room.

Leo was there.

He was sitting on the floor, engrossed in a toy.

In his hands was a porcelain ballerina music box.

My mother's music box.

The one thing I had left of her. The one thing Aiden had promised no one would ever touch.

Leo was twisting the delicate dancer's head, his movements clumsy and cruel.

Snap.

Charlotte POV

"Put that down."

My voice was a sheet of ice.

Leo looked up. He didn't look scared. He looked defiant.

He had Aiden's eyes. The same arrogance, the same challenge.

"No," he said. "Daddy says everything here is mine."

"It's not a toy," I said, stepping forward slowly, trying not to startle him. "Give it to me."

Leo stood up.

He looked me right in the eye.

And then, without blinking, he dropped it.

He didn't fumble it. He simply opened his hands and let gravity take it.

The sound of shattering porcelain was louder than a gunshot. It tore through the silence of the room.

The music box broke into jagged shards. The little dancer lay decapitated on the rug.

I sank to my knees.

My hands hovered over the pieces, trembling.

"What did you do?" I whispered, my breath hitching.

"Mommy!" Leo screamed.

He threw himself on the floor and started wailing, instant tears springing to his eyes. "She pushed me! She pushed me!"

Running footsteps thundered down the hall.

Aiden burst into the room, followed by Haven and his mother.

"What happened?" Aiden roared.

"She hurt him!" Haven shrieked, rushing to scoop Leo up into her arms. "Look at him, he's terrified!"

Aiden turned to me.

I was still on my knees, holding the broken head of the ballerina.

"Charlotte," Aiden warned, his tone low and dangerous.

"He broke it," I said, my voice shaking. "He smashed my mother's box."

"It was an accident!" Aiden's mother snapped from the doorway. "He's a child, Charlotte. You're a grown woman."

"He did it on purpose," I said, looking up at Aiden. "Tell them, Aiden. You know what this meant to me."

Aiden looked at the broken porcelain.

Then he looked at a crying Leo clinging to Haven's neck.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"I'll buy you another one," he said.

"Another one?" I laughed, a sharp, hysterical sound that scraped my throat. "It was my mother's legacy. You can't buy a legacy, Aiden."

"Stop being dramatic," Aiden snapped. "You have no patience for children. That's why you're not a mother."

The words hung in the air, sucking the oxygen out of the room.

He was gaslighting me.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"He's your son," I said, my voice hollow. "Isn't he?"

The room went silent.

Aiden's eyes narrowed. "Don't be crazy, Lottie. He's my nephew."

"Liar," I said.

Aiden stepped closer, looming over me.

"You're hysterical," he said. "Go to your room. We'll discuss your... behavior later."

He turned his back on me.

He put his hand on Leo's back, soothing him.

"It's okay, buddy. It's just a toy."

Just a toy.

I stood up.

I carefully picked up the shards. One by one.

The sharp edges cut my palms.

I watched blood mix with the white dust, but I felt no pain.

"You're right," I said calmly.

Aiden turned back, surprised by my sudden shift.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Thank you for the gift of a son, Aiden. I'm sure we'll be a very happy family."

Haven's eyes widened.

Aiden looked confused. "What?"

"I accept it," I said. "The boy. The noise. The mess."

I smiled.

It was a cold, dead smile.

"I'll go fix this now."

I walked out of the room.

I went upstairs to my room and sat at my desk.

I took out the superglue.

I started to piece the music box back together.

I worked for hours.

When I was done, the ballerina stood again.

But she was covered in spiderweb cracks.

She was ruined.

Just like my allegiance to this family.