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.

Charlotte POV

The door to my bedroom drifted open without so much as a knock.

Haven sauntered in.

She wasn't crying now. The tears had vanished the moment she left Aiden's sight.

She looked like a cat that had just eaten the canary and was already prowling for dessert.

She closed the door behind her and locked it with a deliberate click.

"Sign the papers," she said.

She pointed to the divorce decree sitting on my desk.

I hadn't even shown them to Aiden yet.

"You went through my bag," I said, my voice hollow.

"I go through everything in this house," Haven said, running a finger along my vanity, claiming my space as her own. "I need to know what kind of mess I'm cleaning up."

"You want him that bad?" I asked. "He's a monster, Haven."

"He's a King," she corrected, her eyes gleaming. "And I'm going to be his Queen."

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms.

"You think you're special because you married him? I saved him, Charlotte. Seven years ago."

I froze.

Seven years ago.

"He was dying," Haven said, smiling. "Kidney failure. From the drugs. No one in the family was a match."

My hand flew to the scar on my side.

"I donated a kidney," I whispered, the memory of the pain rushing back. "To you. You said you were sick."

Haven laughed. It was a cruel, tinkling sound, devoid of any warmth.

"I wasn't sick, sweetie. Aiden was. But the Don couldn't let the world know his Enforcer was weak. So we used you."

The room spun.

They had cut me open.

They had taken a part of me.

And they had put it in him.

"I gave him life," I said, my voice trembling.

"No." Haven stepped closer, her perfume suffocating me. "You gave him a spare part. I gave him a son."

She glanced at the clock.

"He'll be here in a minute. To check on you."

"Get out," I said.

"I want it all, Charlotte," she hissed, dropping the facade entirely. "The house. The money. The name. And I want him to hate you. I want him to throw you out like garbage."

She heard heavy footsteps in the hall.

She smiled.

Then, without hesitation, she threw herself backward.

She hit the floor with a heavy thud and started screaming.

"No! Charlotte, stop! My baby!"

The door burst open.

Aiden stood there, filling the frame with his dark presence.

He saw Haven on the floor, clutching her stomach.

He saw me standing over her.

"She pushed me!" Haven screamed, tears instantly flooding her face. "She tried to kill the baby!"

Aiden looked at me.

His eyes turned black.

"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice steady despite my fear. "Check the cameras, Aiden."

He didn't move toward the security monitor.

He moved toward me.

"You attacked a pregnant woman?" he roared.

"She's lying!" I shouted. "She just told me-"

"Shut up!" Aiden grabbed my arm. His grip was bruising, tight enough to snap bone.

"You're jealous. You're sick."

"Check the cameras!" I begged.

"I don't need cameras to see what you are," he spat. "You're bitter. You're barren. And you're cruel."

He shoved me away.

I stumbled back, hitting the desk hard.

He knelt beside Haven. "Are you okay?"

"It hurts," Haven sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "Take me to the doctor."

Aiden scooped her up in his arms.

He looked at me one last time over his shoulder.

There was no love in his eyes.

Only disgust.

"Stay here," he ordered. "If you leave this room, I'll chain you to the bed."

He carried her out.

I listened to his footsteps fade away down the hall.

I looked at the cameras mounted in the corner of the room.

The red light was off.

She had disabled them.

I started to laugh.

It began as a dry chuckle and turned into a sob.

He didn't check the cameras because he didn't want to know the truth.

He wanted her to be the victim.

Because if she was the victim, he was the hero.

And if I was the villain, he didn't have to feel guilty about destroying me.

I wiped my eyes.

The tears were gone.

I picked up the divorce papers.

I signed them.

Then I picked up the pen and set it down with finality.

I didn't pack a bag.

I didn't take clothes.

I walked to the window.

We were on the second floor. There was a trellis covered in ivy clinging to the brick.

I had climbed it once, years ago, to sneak out and paint the sunrise.

I opened the window.

The night air was cold.

It felt like freedom.

I climbed out.

I left the diamond bracelet on the sill.

I left the repaired music box on the desk.

I left Charlotte Herrera in that room.

The woman who hit the ground running was someone else entirely.

And she was never looking back.