Third Person POV
THE STYLES MANSION, QRATE STATE- 8:00 AM
The dining room glowed with soft morning light that made the styles mansion look almost peaceful but it also made it look even more polished than it already was. Gold-rimmed plates, steaming teacups, and neatly folded napkins sat perfectly in place. Another morning of perfection in a house where everything sparkled.
Everything except Vanessa.
She sat among them with a practiced smile- one she had practiced so well it almost felt real- hands folded neatly around her cutlery, pretending their kindness didn't choke her sometimes.
"Eat up, dear," Mrs. Styles said, her voice rich and smooth from years of hosting charity luncheons and social events. "Everything on that plate is good for the baby."
Vanessa nodded, lifting her fork even though her appetite had fled long before morning.
Julian reached across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you crave anything and I mean anything just take my card. Pregnant women crave the strangest things."
His grin was soft and sincere. The sort of smile any outsider would envy.
Vanessa's throat tightened. Warm tears filled her eyes before she could stop them. "You're all so kind," she whispered, voice trembling. "Thank you."
Mr. Styles Sr. lowered his newspaper, the edges rustling. "You grew up alone in that orphanage. That's a heavy burden for any child. But you're not alone anymore." His expression softened. "You're part of this family."
The words should have comforted her. Instead, they made her pulse race and she was reminded of just how badly she needed to keep this perfect image intact.
Vanessa managed a nod as she wiped her cheeks. "I'm grateful. Truly."
Julian squeezed her hand. "And you gave me a son," he said quietly. "Something Elena never could."
Mrs. Styles clicked her tongue, irritation flickering through her eyes. "Julian, must we talk about that?"
Before anyone could speak, a sharp voice sliced into the calm morning.
"Felicity! Clean up that mess properly this time!" Martha boomed from the hallway.
Mrs. Styles sighed. "Martha, what on earth now?"
"Water on the stairs," the older woman said, appearing in the dining area. "I'm making sure she doesn't forget to mop it. Again."
Felicity hurried over, cheeks flushed. "Apologies, madam." She turned to Vanessa with a sweet smile. "Is there anything you need, Miss Vanessa?"
"Is Murphy awake?"
"Not yet."
"Thank you."
The girl nodded and went into the kitchen with Martha, but Vanessa caught how Martha's polite expression drained the moment they were out of the family's view.
Mrs. Styles squeezed Vanessa's hand gently again. "Dear, let the boy sleep. He's only three."
"I know, Mum. But he needs to take his medication by nine."
At the mention of time, Mrs. Styles glanced instinctively at the clock. Vanessa stood, sliding her phone discreetly off the table. The dining room was built in such a way that she could leave without their eyes following her to the staircase. Something she was always grateful for.
Her phone buzzed.
She answered in a hushed voice. "Mom, I'm a bit busy. Can I call back?… No, I was having breakfast with them… Yes… alright. Thank you."
She ended the call quickly and glanced over her shoulder to be sure that no one followed her. She sighed. No one.
She slipped her phone into her dress pocket, turning toward the stairs when suddenly her foot met something slick.
The world tilted violently.
The scream ripped out of her before she could swallow it.
The floor rushed up and her body hit the floor with a loud thud. A wave of pain shot through her and she blacked out.
*
LATER IN TOM SHIRE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
Murphy was curled on Mr. Styles' lap, playing with the ends of his tie while Mrs. Styles bounced her foot restlessly against the floor. Julian walked in frantic loops, running a hand through his hair over and over.
The light over the operating theatre clicked from red to green.
The medical team emerged.
Julian rushed forward. "Doctor. How is she?"
"She's awake," the surgeon said, removing his mask. "But she experienced mild head trauma. We'll need to monitor her closely."
Mrs. Styles stiffened. "And the baby?"
The doctor hesitated. "I'm very sorry… we couldn't save the fetus. She lost too much blood. Her womb is extremely weak at the moment. She shouldn't attempt conception again for some time."
Mrs. Styles swallowed hard. "Are you saying she may not be able to get pregnant?"
"Getting pregnant may not be the challenge," the doctor replied. "But keeping it will be."
He offered a respectful nod before walking away.
*
Vanessa lay in a private ward, pale but awake, cradling Murphy against her chest. He traced her cheek with tiny fingers.
"Will Mama be otay?" he asked.
"Of course, sweetheart," she whispered.
Mr. Styles gently lifted the boy from her arms. "I'll take him to the pediatrician as he has an appointment..."
"No!" Vanessa's voice rang out louder than she had intended.
Julian jerked, startled. "Baby… today is his appointment, remember?"
Vanessa blinked rapidly, panic retreating as confusion took its place. "I... I'm sorry… I didn't mean to shout."
Julian softened, cupping her cheek gently. "Don't apologize. Just focus on healing. I will never love you any less." He kissed her forehead and Vanessa closed her eyes, letting herself lean into the warmth.
A trembling smile curved her lips. "Thank you."
"I need to go to the office. Mum will stay with you."
"It's fine. Go."
Mr. Styles and Julian stepped out with Murphy.
"Bye-bye Mommy! Wuv you!" Murphy called.
"I love you too."
The door clicked shut.
Silence replaced the warm voices from earlier.
Mrs. Styles rose slowly from the cushioned chair and walked toward the bed. Her face held no trace of the softness she'd shown earlier.
"You just lost a child," she said coldly, "and you're smiling."
Vanessa blinked, stunned. "I was only telling Murphy goodbye."
"Why didn't you watch where you were going?"
"Felicity spilled..."
"SHUT. UP."
The words sliced through the room.
Vanessa froze.
Mrs. Styles stepped closer. "Why are you blaming Felicity? Why don't you take responsibility for your own carelessness?"
"Why are you blaming me?" Vanessa whispered.
The slap landed on her face before she could flinch. Vanessa's head jerked sideways. Tears spilled instantly, more from shock than pain.
Mrs. Styles shook her head slowly. "I don't see any difference between you and that bitch called Elena."
Vanessa bit down a sob. "But… I have a son."
"A sickly boy," Mrs. Styles sneered. "A child who has spent more time in hospitals than at home. Just like Elena—bringing nothing but problems."
She walked back toward her seat, but paused and turned slightly, voice dripping with venom:
"You killed your unborn child. If you'd paid attention instead of wandering around, none of this would have happened."
Then she sat, calm as ever.
Vanessa pressed a trembling hand to her cheek. Tears streamed, warm and unending, as she stared at the woman who claimed to be her family.
For the first time that morning, she felt something that she had never felt in years- Fear.