The next morning, I found Vivian standing outside my bedroom door. Luca was holding her hand.

"Miss Black, please don't be upset with Vincent," she said softly. "He's only worried about the boy's health. Ever since Luca was in my belly, Vincent has taken on the responsibilities of a father. It's only natural that the boy depends on him."

"Luca is too young to understand that Vincent isn't really his father. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can take Luca and leave."

Vivian kept talking, her words sweet and poisonous. But my eyes were fixed on something else.

Around Luca's neck hung a necklace.

My breath caught in my throat. Tears fell before I could stop them—big, heavy drops soaking into the blanket.

I looked up at Vincent. When I spoke, my voice sounded foreign even to me. Raw. Broken.

"What is that boy wearing around his neck?"

When I was eighteen, Vincent was being hunted by his enemies. In the final confrontation, both he and his attacker fired at the same time.

I didn't think. My body moved faster than my mind. I threw myself in front of Vincent and took the bullet meant for him.

His enemy died on the spot. Vincent lived. The bullet that hit me stopped less than an inch from my heart.

When I woke up in the hospital, Vincent was kneeling by my bed. His eyes were swollen from crying. His voice shook.

"From this day forward, my life belongs to you, Sophia."

"I will never betray you. Not for as long as I live."

He had the bullet removed from my chest and made into a necklace. He held my hand and kissed the bullet like it was sacred.

"This necklace is my good luck charm," he said. "As long as I draw breath, I will wear it. I will never forget that my life is yours."

Maybe it was the way his red-rimmed eyes looked so sincere that day. Maybe it was the way he kissed the bullet like he meant every word.

All I know is that my heart turned to water.

And now that necklace—the one Vincent swore he would never take off as long as he lived—was hanging around a two-year-old boy's neck.

Vincent's lips parted, then closed. He couldn't seem to find the words. So he said nothing.

Vivian's eyes glinted with barely hidden triumph.

"Oh, this necklace? When I went into early labor, the doctors said Luca might not make it. Vincent was so worried about the boy that he gave him the necklace for protection. Luca has worn it since the day he was born."

"And you know what? It really worked. The boy has been healthy his whole—"

"Enough. Shut your mouth."

Vincent grabbed Vivian's arm and dragged her out of the room. Luca started crying. The sound faded down the hallway.

But I didn't care anymore. Vivian's words were still echoing in my head.

Vincent didn't come back. I don't know how long I lay there.

Then I heard a sound. A muffled noise that made my stomach turn.

I got out of bed and followed it.

The sound was coming from Vivian's room.

A man's voice, thick with barely controlled desire, speaking in a strained whisper.

"Not here. Sophia is still in the house. She'll hear."

A woman's voice, soft and dripping with honey.

"I locked the door. She won't hear a thing. Come on, Vincent. It's been so long. Don't you want me?"

What happened next was inevitable.

I stood in the hallway, watching through the gap in the door. The room was dim. The air was thick.

Then Vivian turned her head. Her eyes found mine.

She smiled.

And I understood everything.

The door wasn't locked. She had left it open on purpose.

She wanted me to see. She wanted me to know the truth.

I looked at her for a long moment. Then I reached out and quietly pulled the door closed.

The next morning, I went downstairs. The kitchen was empty except for Luca.

He was sitting at the table, holding his little bowl, spooning food into his mouth all by himself.

When he saw me, he smiled. His whole face lit up.

"Miss Sophia, you're awake! Do you want some porridge? Seafood porridge! It's really good—"

Then his face turned red. He couldn't breathe. He grabbed his throat and fell from his chair, choking.

I froze for only a second. Then I rushed toward him.

Adults make their own choices. A child is innocent. I couldn't just stand there and watch him suffer.

Then Vivian's scream shattered the silence.

"Sophia Black! What are you doing!"

Vivian lunged forward and shoved me aside. She grabbed Luca, calling his name over and over.

When the boy didn't respond, she examined the food he had been eating. Then she turned to me, her eyes blazing red.

"Miss Black! If you didn't want us here, you could have just said so! We would have left! But to hurt a child? He's only three years old! You could have killed him!"

"Luca has been allergic to seafood since he was a baby. I would never give him anything like this. How could you be so cruel? Feeding him seafood porridge when you knew—"

I was stunned by the accusations. I could only shake my head.

"I didn't. I didn't give him anything—"

But Vivian didn't let me finish.

"Then what? Are you saying Luca ordered takeout himself? He's three years old! What does he know?"

Vincent didn't look at me. He stepped forward, scooped up the struggling boy, and headed for the door.

"Enough. We're taking him to the hospital."

He didn't say a word to me. But after five years together, I could read him perfectly.

He was blaming me.

As he walked past, I grabbed his wrist.

"Vincent. It wasn't me."

He paused. A flicker of impatience crossed his face.

"Let go. I need to get Luca to the hospital."

Before I could respond, Vivian slammed into me, shoving me hard. She and Vincent walked out together without looking back.

The shove caught me off guard. I fell hard, the corner of the coffee table driving into my lower back. Pain exploded through my body. I couldn't help crying out.

But Vincent, who used to rush to my side if I so much as frowned, didn't even turn around.

His only concern was the boy in his arms.

I watched the three of them disappear down the driveway. Then my phone buzzed.

My grandfather.

"The car is almost there. Get your things and come out."

I wiped my tears. Ignored the pain in my back. Pushed myself up and walked to the bedroom.

I took nothing but my ID and my bank cards.

When I got into the car my grandfather sent, I pulled out my phone and typed one message to Vincent.

"It's over, Vincent."