Chapter 107
Lillian’s Point Of View
That was the final spark on a pool of gasoline. I let out a harsh, manic laugh, my fingers digging deeper into my pregnant belly, flaunting it, pressing the round outline of my stomach straight toward her face.
“Control my mouth? Don’t make me laugh, Elena!” I screamed, stepping back into her face. “You couldn’t even control your own husband! You couldn’t keep his hands on you if your life depended on it! You think a stupid slap is going to fix what you were too weak to hold onto?! You think marking my cheek is going to make him love you?! You are pathetic! You’re nothing but a legal title with empty hands and a dead womb! No matter what you do, no matter how many expensive dresses you wear, you will always be the incompetent, defective wife! A burden! A pitiful, glorified decoration that Graham drags around to corporate galas just to save face p>
I stroked my belly slowly, deliberately, a sick, victorious glee burning in my chest as I watched her breath hitch.
“While I… I am carrying the heir to the entire Sinclair fortune,” I purred, dropping my voice into a venomous, triumphant whisper. “The heir, Elena! That child right here makes me infinitely more valuable than you could ever dream of being! I am the future of this family! And you? You’re just the broken, empty vessel that couldn’t deliver p>
I pressed in close, letting her see the triumphant sneer on my face. “You’re nothing, Elena! Nothing! He doesn’t love you. He never loved you. You’re just a spineless coward sitting on a throne of lies. At least I got pregnant! At least I gave him what you never could p>
I stood back, expecting her to finally break. I waited for the sob to tear out of her throat, waited for her to hide her face and run up those stairs in tears like she always did, the way she had every other time I’d cornered her in this house.
I had rehearsed this victory in my mind a hundred times, savoring the image of her crumbling before me, imagining the way her mask would finally shatter under the weight of everything I’d thrown at her.
Instead, Elena’s mouth slowly curled into a slow, terrifyingly cold smile.
She took one deliberate step toward me. Then another. The air in the foyer suddenly felt ice-cold, as though the temperature itself had dropped to match the look in her eyes.
“Yes, Lilian,” Elena said, her voice dropping into a low, smooth, venomous tone that cut through my excitement like a guillotine. “You got pregnant. Congratulations. But tell me… what exactly did you gain from it p>
My laugh caught in my throat. “What did I… I got his child! I got his line p>
“No, sweetheart,” Elena interrupted, her dark eyes scanning me with a look of such utter, absolute disgust that my stomach churned. “You didn’t gain a husband. You didn’t gain a family. You traded your body, your youth, and whatever microscopic shred of dignity you had left… for what? How many bucks did Graham toss onto your nightstand to keep you quiet? How much allowance does he give his favorite breeding stock p>
My jaw dropped, my face flushing a deep, furious crimson. “You shut your mouth – “
“You stand there flexing your stomach like you’ve won a prize,” Elena continued, her voice rising, hit after hit, completely overwhelming me. “You think you’re special because you let a married man use you as an incubator? You’re nothing but a kept woman, Lilian! A cheap, desperate whore who thought if she laid on her back long enough and caught a baby, she’d somehow morph into a lady p>
“I am not a whore!” I screamed, raising my hand to strike her.
CRACK!
Elena caught my wrist in mid-air with an iron grip, her fingers digging violently into my skin, and delivered a second, blistering slap straight across my other cheek with her free hand.
My head whipped around again, the pain explosive. A sharp scream tore from my throat as I staggered back against the wall, my cheek burning like liquid fire.
“Don’t you ever raise a hand to me, you pathetic little parasite!” Elena hissed, stepping directly into my space, pinning me against the wall with her sheer presence. Her face was inches from mine, her dark eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated fury.
“You talk about my womb? You traded yours for a monthly allowance and a guest room in another woman’s house! You are a glorified rental womb to the Sinclairs! Temporary! Replaceable! The moment that baby is born, do you honestly think Graham is going to make you his wife? Do you think high society will ever accept a cheap, homewrecking gold-digger like you p>
Tears of pure, overwhelming humiliation finally burst from my eyes, hot and angry. “He loves me p>
“He uses you!” Elena shouted back, her voice echoing violently through the grand hall. “You are taking my leftovers, Lilian! You are eating the scraps that fall off my table and calling it a feast! You think having his child elevates you? It makes you a statistic! A mistress with a bastard child, dependent on a man who won’t even put your name on a single deed in this house p>
I opened my mouth to scream at her, to hurl another insult, but Elena grabbed me by the collar of my silk robe, her face contorted in absolute disdain.
“Me letting you stay in this house doesn’t mean I’m weak,” Elena whispered, her breath hot and lethal against my skin. “It means I have the composure you severely lack. The only reason I haven’t thrown you down these marble stairs and dragged you out into the rain by your bleach-blonde hair is because of the innocent life inside you. That poor child is going to be raised by a mother who sold her own self-respect for a designer bag and a spare key p>
Before I could breathe, Elena gave me a harsh, violent shove.
My back slammed hard against the wood-paneled wall. Shock, terror, and absolute shame froze me in place as the heavy sound of her heels began clicking against the marble stairs, rhythmic and unhurried, as though nothing at all had just happened between us.
I stood there, my hands trembling violently over my belly, both of my cheeks burning bright red from her slaps. My chest heaved up and down in ragged, desperate gasps. I wanted to scream after her. I wanted to run up those stairs, tear her hair out, and prove that I was the one in control.
But my legs wouldn’t move, rooted to the marble as if the floor itself had turned to lead beneath me, my body refusing to obey the fury still screaming inside my skull. Somewhere beneath the humiliation and rage, a small, quiet voice whispered that I had lost something in that exchange I would never manage to win back, no matter how many insults I hurled or how loudly I screamed her name into the empty house.
As I looked up, watching Elena Sinclair walk up the grand staircase with her chin held high, her spine straight as steel, looking down at me like I was nothing more than dirt beneath her shoes, my voice completely failed me.
The silence of the massive house rushed back in, suffocating and heavy, pressing down on my chest until I could hardly breathe.
Rage, shame, and a cold, sickening realization swallowed me whole. My cheeks burned with the physical mark of her dominance, and for the first time since I had stepped into this mansion, I realized I hadn’t won a damn thing.
I had walked in believing myself the victor, certain that my pregnancy alone would crown me the winner of this quiet, vicious war, but I was leaving this fight with nothing but the taste of ash and the throbbing proof of my own defeat, the echo of her footsteps above serving as a final, damning verdict I couldn’t argue against.