I stared at Luca across the breakfast table, watching as his expression shifted from confusion to anger. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows caught the gold flecks in his eyes—eyes that once made my heart race but now seemed as cold and distant as a stranger's.

"You've been different lately," he said, setting down his coffee cup with deliberate precision. "Distant. Cold."

I took a sip of my own coffee, savoring the bitter warmth. "Have I?"

"Your behavior toward Kaia is... unacceptable." His voice dropped lower, taking on the authoritative tone he used in boardrooms. "She's carrying our children, Valeria. She deserves respect."

In my previous life, this moment had shattered me. I'd begged for his love, for any scrap of affection he might spare me. I'd cried, screamed, pleaded—all to no avail.

Now, I simply studied his face and wondered how I'd ever found it handsome.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," he continued, mistaking my silence for hurt. "Kaia is here because she's helping our family. Your attitude needs to change."

I set my cup down carefully, aligning it perfectly with the saucer. "You're right."

The words surprised him. His eyebrows rose slightly.

"About what?" he asked.

"About needing a change." I met his gaze directly. "I'll move to the guest house today."

The shock on his face was almost worth the pain of this entire charade. In my previous life, I'd fought tooth and nail against being banished from our bedroom. Now, I was offering it freely.

"That's... not necessary," he stammered.

"I think it is," I replied coolly. "For Kaia's comfort. After all, she's carrying the Matthews heir."

Luca's expression shifted, calculation replacing surprise. He thought he understood—that I was finally accepting my place, stepping aside gracefully.

"Fine," he said finally. "If that's what you want."

---

The charity luncheon was in full swing on the estate's terrace, Manhattan's elite mingling under white umbrellas while servers circulated with champagne and delicate canapés. I watched from the kitchen doorway as Kaia held court at the center of it all, her hand resting protectively over her still-flat stomach.

"The Matthews miracle," I heard someone murmur. "Eight babies!"

I slipped into the kitchen proper, where the staff was frantically plating the next course. The head chef glanced up as I entered.

"Mrs. Matthews, can I help you?"

"I'm just checking on the preparation," I said smoothly. "Everything looks wonderful."

I moved to the prep station where a bowl of fresh peppers sat—bright red habaneros, their surfaces glossy with capsaicin. My fingers closed around one.

"Those are extremely hot, ma'am," the sous chef warned.

I smiled. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

In one fluid motion, I bit into the pepper, chewing slowly as the fire erupted across my tongue and down my throat. The pain was immediate and intense—but I'd prepared for this.

I'd learned to compartmentalize pain in ways I never imagined possible during those final days of my previous life.

Through the kitchen window, I could see Kaia laughing at something Eleanor had said. I took another deliberate bite of the pepper, feeling the heat spread through my system.

Suddenly, Kaia's laughter cut off mid-sentence. Her face flushed bright red, then drained of color. She clutched at her throat, gasping for air as sweat beaded instantly on her forehead.

"Are you alright?" Eleanor demanded, her voice rising with alarm.

Kaia's eyes darted around wildly before finding mine through the kitchen window. Her expression contorted with panic as she realized what was happening.

"I—I don't know," she choked out, tears streaming down her face. "It burns! Everything burns!"

She stumbled to her feet, knocking over a glass of water that soaked the front of her silk dress. The stain spread across her abdomen like a wound.

"I need to lie down," she gasped, doubling over.

---

For three nights, I paced the floors of the guest house, fueled by black coffee and cold determination. Sleep eluded me by choice rather than circumstance.

On the first night, I heard Kaia's voice drifting through the wall: "I can't sleep! Something's wrong!"

By the second night, her cries had turned to hysteria. "She's doing something to me! I know she is!"

On the third night, I heard Luca's voice, tense and frustrated: "Kaia, please calm down. You're going to harm the babies with all this stress."

I sipped my coffee, watching dawn break over the estate grounds. My body ached for sleep, but my mind remained razor-sharp.

A soft knock at my door announced Sydney's arrival with news.

"She hasn't slept in three days," Sydney reported, her eyes wide with amazement. "Dr. Whitfield prescribed sedatives, but they're not working. Luca's at his wit's end."

I nodded, setting down my empty mug. "And how are you holding up?"

"Exhausted," Sydney admitted. "But it's working, isn't it?"

I moved to the window, watching as Luca paced the terrace below, phone pressed to his ear. Even from this distance, I could see the strain in his shoulders.

"Yes," I said quietly. "It's working. But this is just the beginning."

As if hearing my words, Luca looked up suddenly, his eyes meeting mine through the glass. For the first time since my rebirth, I saw something new in his expression.

Fear.

The address Sydney had given me led to a narrow alley in Brooklyn's shadowy underbelly. I pulled my hood lower over my face as I approached the unmarked door, my heart hammering against my ribs. The sign above read simply "Botanica," though I knew this was no ordinary herbal shop.

"Are you sure about this?" Sydney whispered beside me, her voice barely audible over the distant traffic.

"Absolutely," I replied, my voice steady despite the chill that ran down my spine. "This is the only way."

I'd spent weeks researching the Gemini Blood Pact, but all the conventional sources had yielded nothing. It was Sydney who'd finally uncovered this place—a underground occult shop frequented by those who dealt in darker magics.

The bell jangled softly as we entered. Inside, the shop was dimly lit, filled with shelves of jarred herbs, dried plants, and ancient texts. A woman with silver-streaked hair looked up from behind the counter, her eyes narrowing as she assessed us.

"First timers," she stated rather than asked, her accent thick with something unplaceable.

I stepped forward, removing my hood just enough to show my face while keeping my features partially shadowed. "I need information about the Gemini Blood Pact."

The woman's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her eyes—a calculation, an assessment of what I might be willing to pay.

"Breaking a pact is dangerous business," she said finally. "Especially one already in motion."

"I'm aware of the risks," I replied coldly. "I need to know how to reverse it violently."

She studied me for a long moment before nodding once. "Follow me."

In the back room, surrounded by ancient texts and bubbling concoctions, she explained what I needed—a catalyst to break the supernatural bond between Kaia and me.

"Wolfsbane and Mugwort," she said, grinding dried leaves between her fingers. "Combined in a specific ratio and ingested at the moment of highest magical tension."

"What constitutes 'highest magical tension'?" I asked.

"When the curse is actively transferring energy between the two parties." Her eyes met mine. "When pain is being shared."

I nodded, understanding perfectly. "And the dosage?"

"Enough to feel it burn," she replied cryptically. "Too little, and nothing happens. Too much..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence.

---

"These are the final documents," Mr. Harrington said, sliding the papers across his polished desk. "Once signed, Mr. Matthews will no longer have any authority over your trust fund."

I examined the papers carefully, noting the clauses that would transfer my assets—worth millions—into offshore accounts accessible only by Sydney and myself.

"And the divorce papers?" I asked, my voice cool and detached.

He handed me another folder. "Everything is prepared, Mrs. Matthews. Just add the date when you're ready."

I ran my fingers over the blank line where the date should go. Soon. Very soon.

"Your discretion is appreciated," I said, signing the final document with a flourish.

"Of course," he replied with a slight bow. "Your family has been our client for generations. We understand the importance of... privacy."

As I left the lawyer's office, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. The financial noose that had kept me tethered to Luca was now severed. I was free—or would be, once I executed the final phase of my plan.

---

"Dr. Whitfield is here," Sydney announced, appearing at the doorway of my dressing room.

I nodded, setting down the small vial of wolfsbane and mugwort mixture I'd been preparing. "Perfect timing."

I found the doctor in the main hall, his medical bag in hand and concern etched across his features.

"Mrs. Matthews," he greeted me with a curt nod. "I'm here to check on Ms. Salazar. She's been experiencing some... unusual symptoms."

"Has she?" I raised an eyebrow. "How unfortunate."

I fell into step beside him as he headed toward the east wing. "Dr. Whitfield, has it occurred to you that Kaia's condition might be psychosomatic?"

He paused, looking at me with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Eight babies," I said softly. "It's extraordinary. Perhaps the strain is affecting her mind as well as her body?"

Before he could respond, we reached Kaia's suite. She was lying on the bed, her face pale and drawn.

"Valeria," she hissed when she saw me. "What is she doing here?"

"Mrs. Matthews was just expressing concern about your well-being," Dr. Whitfield said smoothly, setting down his bag.

As he approached the bed to examine her, I discreetly dug my fingernails into my palm, drawing blood.

Kaia's scream was immediate and piercing. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked, jerking away from the doctor's outstretched hand. "It burns! Everything burns!"

Dr. Whitfield looked bewildered as he withdrew his hand. "Ms. Salazar, I haven't even touched you yet."

Kaia's eyes darted wildly between us, her breathing ragged. "She's doing something to me," she insisted, tears streaming down her face. "I know she is!"

The doctor's expression shifted subtly—doubt creeping into his eyes as he looked at my husband's mistress with new uncertainty.

Perhaps, I thought with cold satisfaction, the seeds of doubt had been planted after all.

I woke to the sound of hushed voices outside my bedroom door. The guest house was quiet at this hour, with only the occasional creak of the old floorboards breaking the silence. But these voices were different—urgent, secretive.

"She's sleeping," Sydney whispered. "Now's your chance."

My eyes snapped open. Sydney wouldn't betray me. Which meant...

I slipped silently from the bed and moved to the door, pressing my ear against the cool wood.

"Are you sure this will work?" Kaia's voice, trembling with desperation.

"It has to," came the reply—Dr. Whitfield's assistant, whom I recognized from previous visits. "The curse is weakening. We need to reinforce the bond."

I heard the soft rustle of cloth, then a sharp snick—scissors cutting through fabric.

"Take it," Kaia hissed. "Take it now."

I yanked the door open just as Sydney stepped back, her phone held high, recording everything.

"Stealing my hair?" I asked coldly. "How primitive."

Kaia spun around, her face contorted with rage and fear. In her hand was a lock of my hair—cut from the brush I'd carelessly left on the dresser.

"The Gemini Blood Pact requires a physical connection," she spat, backing toward the door. "You've been fighting it somehow. This will ensure you feel every moment of my children's birth."

Sydney stepped forward, her phone still recording. "Is that why you've been experiencing pain? Because Mrs. Matthews has been manipulating the curse?"

Kaia's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. She'd just confirmed everything on camera.

"You bitch," she hissed at me. "You think you're so clever."

I smiled—not the warm smile of the woman I once was, but something colder, sharper. "I'm not playing defense anymore, Kaia."

---

The night before the Christmas Gala, I stood in the bathroom, water cascading over my body. I twisted the knob to the left, and the scalding heat seared my skin. Then quickly to the right—ice-cold water that stole my breath.

Back and forth I went, alternating between extremes. Each change sent shockwaves through my system, and with each shock, I knew Kaia was feeling it too.

"Again," I whispered to myself, forcing my body to endure the contrast.

Downstairs, I could hear the commotion—Kaia's cries of pain, Eleanor's panicked voice calling for Dr. Whitfield, Luca's frustrated demands for explanations.

"She can't attend the rehearsal dinner," Sydney reported, appearing in the doorway with a towel. "Fever of 102. Chills so bad they had to wrap her in heating blankets."

I stepped out of the shower, my body pink from the heat and cold. "Perfect timing."

"The staff is whispering," Sydney added, handing me the towel. "They're saying you've put a hex on her."

"Let them talk," I said, drying my hair with deliberate slowness. "It's almost over."

Luca appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of concern and accusation. "What have you done to her?"

I met his gaze steadily. "Nothing she hasn't done to me."

"She's carrying our children!" he hissed. "Your jealousy is putting them at risk."

Something inside me—something that had once loved this man—died completely in that moment. I laughed, a sound so cold and hollow it didn't seem like mine at all.

The laughter startled him. He took a step back, his eyes widening with something new—fear.

---

The morning of the Christmas Gala dawned clear and cold. I stood at the window of my dressing room, watching the sun glitter on the snow-covered grounds of the estate.

"Everything is prepared," Sydney said, entering with a garment bag. "The car will be waiting at the service entrance at midnight. Luggage is already loaded."

I nodded, my mind perfectly calm. "And the documents?"

"In the safe in the car. Once you sign them at the lawyer's office tomorrow, you'll be free."

Free. The word tasted sweet on my tongue.

I moved to the vanity and opened the jewelry box, selecting a single piece—a blood-red ruby pendant that caught the light like a drop of frozen blood.

"The dress," Sydney said, unzipping the garment bag.

The gown emerged like a creature from its chrysalis—a creation of blood-red silk that seemed to flow like liquid. I touched it gently, feeling its cool surface against my fingertips.

"It's time," I said softly.

I slipped into the dress, watching as it molded to my body like a second skin. The color was striking against my pale complexion—the white of bone, the red of blood.

Sydney helped arrange my hair, pinning it up in an elegant chignon that exposed the long line of my neck.

"You look..." she hesitated.

"Like what I am," I finished for her.

I turned to the mirror, studying the woman who looked back at me. She was beautiful in a terrible way—all sharp edges and cold perfection.

"Goodbye, Valeria," I whispered to my reflection. "The old you dies tonight."

The woman in the mirror smiled back at me, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Tonight, at the Christmas Gala, I would destroy them all.