Chapter 6
My father confronted me privately before we went after Victor.
“You should stay with Ruby.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“Bianca.”
“No.”
He stared.
I continued.
“For six weeks, everyone has told me to rest. Heal. Let someone else handle things. Logan used it. Victor used it. You don’t get to use it too because your motive is kinder.”
That hit.
Dad looked away.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
Important word.
Not agreement.
Recognition.
I checked on Ruby myself.
She was sleeping against Nora’s chest, unaware that a crib had become the center of a family war.
I touched her cheek.
Six weeks old.
Completely uninterested in succession.
Perfect.
Savannah stood outside the sedan.
She had asked to speak.
I almost refused.
Then remembered she knew Victor.
“What?”
She held out the emerald necklace.
I took it.
No ceremony.
It was mine.
“I didn’t steal it,” she said.
“Logan did.”
“Yes.”
“You still wore it.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked ashamed.
“Because I wanted to feel like I won.”
There.
Honest.
Ugly.
Useful.
“Won what?”
“You.”
I almost laughed.
“You thought my marriage was a competition.”
“I thought if he chose me, it meant I was more than an assistant.”
That told me everything about Savannah’s wound.
Not my responsibility.
Still human.
Then she whispered:
“Victor told me you’d become dangerous after the baby.”
I stared.
“He said women like you can’t handle losing control of their bodies and still lead.”
There it was.
The script.
Postpartum vulnerability turned into political ammunition.
Savannah continued.
“He told Logan to collect moments. Arguments. Tears. Anything.”
My stomach tightened.
Months of surveillance disguised as marriage.
“How long has Logan been recording me?”
“Since before Ruby was born.”
I closed my hand around the necklace.
The affair hurt.
The cameras changed it.
May you like
He had not merely stopped loving me.
He had been documenting my private exhaustion for men who wanted my chair.
