Chapter 3

Denver did not call. He did not send word. He did not come home. The only information she could gather came from the clipped, reluctant answers Clara gave when pressed—yes, Mr. Kensington was still at the hospital; yes, Ms. Greene was recovering.

Aisha had lost the baby.

Julieta overheard two maids whispering in the hallway. The news had struck her with a strange, complicated grief. She had hated Aisha the moment she saw her draped over Denver's arm, but the loss of a child—any child—was a grief she would not wish on anyone. And beneath that genuine sympathy, a colder, more selfish thought had lodged itself like a splinter: He will blame me even more now.

Julieta collapsed onto her mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her stomach muscles twitched in painful spasms, and her fingertips were completely numb. She pressed her palm flat against her abdomen and breathed through the cramps, counting her inhales. The baby was still there. She was still there. That was enough for now.

On the seventh morning, the bedroom door was pushed open without a knock, the heavy brass hinges creaking slightly.

Aisha Greene walked in.

Brenda Walsh stepped in right behind her. Julieta recognized the sharp-featured woman immediately—Denver had assigned her as Aisha's personal assistant, a constant, watchful presence glued to her employer's side ever since she'd arrived at the estate. Brenda turned the lock on the bedroom door from the inside with a sharp click.

The sound of the lock sliding home sent a cold pulse through Julieta's chest. A locked door. No one would hear what happened next. She had lived in this house for three years, and in one week, it had become a place where she could be cornered in her own bedroom by a woman who wanted her destroyed and an assistant who served as willing muscle.

Julieta sat up abruptly.

"What are you doing here?" Julieta demanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking through her bloodstream. "Where is Denver?"

Aisha laughed. It was a sharp, grating sound that scraped against Julieta's eardrums.

"Denver is busy preparing a VIP hospital suite for my tragic, lost baby," Aisha said, turning around to face the bed.

Aisha openly gloated, her eyes shining with malicious delight. She admitted freely that the blood on the stairs was nothing but theatrical stage blood she had purchased online. She explained in detail how she paid off the estate cleaning staff to vanish during the crucial ten minutes, ensuring there were no other witnesses.

Julieta listened. The words were horrifying, Julieta slowly slid her right hand across the bedsheets, moving toward her phone resting on the nightstand. She kept her eyes locked on Aisha, trying to mask her movements.

Her fingers brushed the cold metal casing of the phone. She pressed the side button, attempting to blindly activate the voice recorder app.

Brenda noticed the subtle shift in Julieta's shoulder. The assistant lunged forward with surprising speed, snatching the phone right off the table.

Her thumbs moved with practiced speed across the screen. She quickly deleted the voice memo and entirely wiped the device's recent history. "Don't waste your energy," Brenda sneered, slipping the phone smoothly into her own designer blazer pocket. "I'll just hold onto this for safekeeping. No evidence, no problem."

Julieta's jaw tightened.

Aisha turned around, her eyes flashing with pure joy at Julieta's helplessness. She stepped closer to the edge of the bed, looking down at Julieta like she was an insect.

"You are so stupid," Aisha mocked, her tone dripping with venom. "Loving a man who despises your very existence. It was so easy to make him believe the worst about his own wife. He wanted to believe it."

Julieta's breathing quickened. The cold numbness in her chest was suddenly replaced by a boiling, searing anger. The physical pain in her abdomen was overridden by pure adrenaline.

She swung her legs off the bed, planting her feet firmly on the floor. She stood up, forcing herself to full height to face her abuser eye-to-eye.

"You are a pathetic sociopath living a lie," Julieta said, her voice steady and hard.

Aisha's smirk faltered for a second. Her vanity was clearly stung by the insult. She stepped right into Julieta's personal space, aggressively poking her index finger into Julieta's shoulder.

Julieta raised her hand and delivered a sharp, ringing slap across Aisha's cheek.

The sound echoed loudly in the locked room. A bright red mark instantly bloomed across Aisha's pale skin.

Brenda gasped loudly, stepping forward to intervene.

Aisha held up a hand, stopping Brenda in her tracks. Aisha slowly turned her face back to Julieta.

Instead of getting angry, Aisha began to laugh. It was a low, unhinged sound that made the hairs on Julieta's arms stand up.