“No!” I cried out, rushing forward. The heat seared my hands as I reached into the fire, yanking the necklace free just before it vanished. Smoke stung my eyes, but it wasn’t smoke that made them burn.
It was fury.
I stormed back inside, clutching the necklace tightly, and found Bianca lounging in the living room like she owned it. One hand rested on her rounded belly, her posture relaxed, victorious.
“Why?” My voice shook as I faced her. “Why did you burn my things? That necklace was my mother’s.”
She looked up slowly, blinking in false surprise. “Oh, that old thing? I thought it was worthless. Honestly, Amara, you left so much junk lying around. How was I supposed to know what was important? I was just cleaning up.”
“Cleaning?” I snapped. “This is my house. You had no right—”
“Enough.”
Aldrin’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He stepped in, eyes cold, uninterested. “Stop arguing over trivial things. Amara, clean up this mess. I’m hosting guests tomorrow. I want everything perfect.”
I stared at him, disbelief rushing through me. “You want me to clean? After what she did? After everything you’ve allowed—”
“I wasn’t asking,” he interrupted flatly. “I’m giving you an order.”
Something finally broke.
“No,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I won’t. I’m not your servant, Aldrin. Not anymore. If you want this place spotless, do it yourself.”
Before he could respond, the butler hurried in, pale and visibly shaken, holding a small parcel wrapped in plain paper.
“S‑Sir… this just arrived.”
Aldrin grabbed it and ripped it open.
What fell out made my world tilt.
A small, blood‑soaked bundle hit the floor. Tiny arms.
My scream tore out of me. “Sienna!”
My knees gave way as tears flooded my vision. Somewhere deep inside, I knew—it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. She was safe. But I let myself fall apart anyway. I let the hysteria consume me. I wanted him to see it. I wanted guilt to pierce that stone heart of his.
Aldrin swore under his breath and unfolded the note attached to the package. His jaw tightened as he read aloud:
One hundred million. Final warning. Or the child dies.
His phone chimed. A video began to play.
Sienna’s face filled the screen. Bound. Crying. Calling for me in her small, broken voice. A masked man growled, “Pay—or we cut more.”
My legs shook as I reached for the phone, but Aldrin yanked it away.
Then—he sighed.