Chapter 1 - BENEATH THE TABLE
Eleanor pressed the chicken bone against my mouth hard enough to cut my lower lip.
“Open.”
I knelt beneath the banquet table with one hand against the marble and the other curved around my stomach. My son moved beneath my palm, a frightened tightening that made my breath catch.
Above me, silk skirts brushed chair legs. Diamond bracelets clicked against crystal wineglasses.
“She’s only good for giving me a grandson,” Eleanor said.
The women laughed.
Food scraps covered the front of my satin maternity dress. Gravy darkened one knee. Cream clung to my hair where someone had tipped a plate over my head after I refused to crawl beneath the table quickly enough.
I tasted blood.
“No,” I whispered.
Eleanor smiled.
“Still pretending you have choices?”
The double doors opened.
A man’s shoes stopped at the edge of the dining room.
The tablecloth ripped upward.
Light flooded beneath the table.
Sebastian stood there in a dark suit, his open-collar shirt damp from the summer heat. His phone remained in one hand.
He looked at Eleanor.
Then at the bone in her fingers.
Then at me.
Every trace of color left his face.
“Clara?”
I tried to stand and pain tore across my lower abdomen. My bare feet slid on spilled wine.
“Please…” My voice broke. “Get me out of here.”
Sebastian dropped his phone onto a chair and reached beneath the table.
He did not touch me immediately.
“Can I lift you?”
I nodded.
His arms came around me carefully. He drew me upright, supporting my weight while I fought to breathe through the pressure beneath my ribs.
He removed his suit jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.
The women remained seated.
One lifted her glass.
Another looked irritated that the entertainment had stopped.
Sebastian stared at the stained dress, the scraps beneath the table, and my swollen ankles.
His gaze rose toward the ceiling.
A small black camera blinked above the chandelier.
He saw it.
So did Eleanor.
A guest named Patricia Wren laughed from the far side of the table.
“Once the baby is born, he’ll divorce the charity case.”
Sebastian’s expression changed.
He placed one hand against my back and moved me behind him.
Then he seized the edge of the banquet table and flipped it.
Crystal shattered.
Wine struck the marble in red sheets. Plates broke beneath overturned chairs. The women screamed and stumbled backward.
Eleanor recoiled.
Sebastian stood between us, breathing hard.
“And she is my wife.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Eleanor shouted.
“No.”
He picked up his phone.
For one second, I thought he would call an ambulance.
Instead he crossed to the security intercom beside the doors and pressed the button.
“Lock the estate.”
His voice was low and absolute.
“No guest leaves. Preserve every camera. Call the police and an ambulance.”
Eleanor’s face went still.
“You cannot detain my guests.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“I’m not detaining anyone. I’m preserving a crime scene.”
The baby shifted again.
A deeper pain tightened across my stomach.
I gripped Sebastian’s sleeve.
“Something’s wrong.”
His anger vanished.
He caught me as my knees weakened.
Behind Eleanor, one of the guest women reached beneath the fallen table and snatched a red leather folder from the floor.
She slipped it into her dress before anyone else seemed to notice.
I noticed.
So did Eleanor.
Their eyes met.
The guest moved toward the side door.
May you like
Eleanor did not try to stop her.
She only whispered, “Get that folder out before the police see it.”
