The conservatory was a cage of glass and gold. Arthur Thorne sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes moving between Alexander and their "guests."
Standing by the buffet was her stepmother, Lydia, and her stepsister, Tiffany. Beside Tiffany stood Jason. Seeing him made Seraphina's skin crawl. She had signed the contract with Alexander for one reason: to destroy Jason's ego and avoid the nightmare of being shackled to a man who had already discarded her heart for her sister's.
"Alexander, Seraphina! You finally joined us," Arthur said, his voice booming.
"We wouldn't miss it," Alexander replied, his voice a smooth, dangerous velvet. He felt Seraphina's hand trembling on his arm—a cold, frantic vibration.
"Seraphina, darling," Tiffany chirped, stepping forward with a triumphant smirk. She pointedly rested her hand on her stomach. "You look a bit pale. But then again, a Thorne pregnancy must be so... high-pressure. Jason and I are just so relieved everything is out in the open now. I'm already two months along."
The words hit Seraphina like a physical blow. Two months. They had been together while Jason was still whispering promises of a future to her.
"Jason is so attentive," Tiffany continued, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He's already picked out the cradle. He rubs my feet every night and tells me he can't wait to meet 'our little miracle.' It makes such a difference when a man actually wants the baby, doesn't it?"
The table went silent. Even Arthur's smile faltered at the blatant disrespect.
Seraphina's vision blurred. She looked at Jason—the man she once thought she loved—and saw him looking at Tiffany with a soft, protective gaze. Then she looked at Alexander, the man she had used for her revenge. He was a statue of ice. He hadn't touched her stomach once. He hadn't even asked how she felt.
"Congratulations," Seraphina whispered, the word tasting like ash.
"Is that all?" Tiffany mocked. "You know, Seraphina, you might have the Thorne name, but everyone knows why you're here. You were so desperate to get away from Jason that you sold yourself to a man who doesn't even know your middle name. At least I have a husband who loves me."
Alexander felt the shift in Seraphina—a sudden, violent drop in her energy. He hated Tiffany's arrogance, and he hated that Jason thought he had "won" something.
"A husband who loves you?" Alexander's voice cut through the room like a guillotine. He didn't look at Tiffany; he looked at Jason. "Is that what you call a man who takes the consolation prize because he was too weak to keep the woman I chose?"
Jason's face flushed. "Thorne, that's enough—"
"I'll decide when it's enough," Alexander said, his grip on Seraphina's waist tightening. "We're leaving. The air in here has become common."
As they turned to leave, the combination of the heat, the smell of the heavy brunch meats, and the crushing emotional weight of Tiffany's words became a physical force. Seraphina's knees buckled.
"Seraphina?" Alexander's voice lost its edge, replaced by a sharp, rare note of alarm.
The world tilted. The grey marble floor rushed up to meet her.
"Seraphina!" Alexander shouted as she went limp. He caught her just before she hit the ground, sweeping her up into his arms.
"See?" Lydia sighed from the table, her voice dripping with fake pity. "She's just too fragile for a man like you, Alexander. She always has been."
Alexander stopped at the door, Seraphina's pale, unconscious body cradled against his chest. He turned his head, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying rage. "If any of you are still in this house when I come back down, I will destroy every business interest the Lins have left. Get out."
The Recovery
Back in the Master Suite, the doctor had come and gone. Seraphina lay in the center of the bed, looking small and broken. When her eyes finally fluttered open, she saw Alexander standing by the window.
"The doctor said it was a vasovagal syncope brought on by stress," he said, not turning around.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hollow. "I ruined your display for Arthur."
"Is that all you think this is?" Alexander turned, his expression unreadable.
"Isn't it?" Seraphina's eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. "Tiffany has a man who wants her baby. I have a man who sees me as a way to win a war. I took my revenge, Alexander. I got the Thorne name. But looking at her... I realized I just traded one cage for a much colder one."
Alexander didn't move toward her. He couldn't. Her words were too true, and they pierced a part of him he had spent years trying to kill.
"Go to sleep, Seraphina," he said, his voice dropping to a low, jagged rasp. "You have what you wanted. You're a Thorne. That has to be enough."
He walked out, the heavy door clicking shut, leaving her alone in the golden silence of her revenge.