Catherine stepped forward.
Her heel scraped against the tile.
My shoulder hit the edge of a shelf.
She smiled again. ‘I heard about your new studio. Thought I’d stop in and congratulate you.’
‘Consider it received. Door’s that way.’
‘I’ve been walking for hours. Can’t I just rest my legs here for a while longer?’
‘What, Rhys can’t get you a driver? A nanny? By the way, why are you waddling around in the dead of winter with a baby bump?’
Two tears slid down her face.
‘I didn’t come here to fight,’ she whispered. ‘Why are you being so hostile?’ The source of this content ɪs novel•fire.net
‘I wasn’t. Don’t twist it. I just think it’s weird you’re out here dragging your pregnant arse across town. I don’t have water. I don’t have heating either. Go home.’
She kept one hand clamped to her stomach like she was bracing for impact.
Her face was sickly pale, almost grey.
Another tear rolled down.
I tried to be polite. ‘The weather’s shite. You should go home. Do you want me to call you a car?’
‘No.’ She wiped her face, then gave me a pathetic little smile. ‘Forget it. I get it. You hate me. Even if I apologised, you wouldn’t forgive me.’
She looked at me for a long moment, then turned around and walked out.
She moved slow, one hand still on her bump.
Her shoulders hunched.
Her steps were stiff, dragging.
Once the door shut, I turned to Priya. ‘Follow her. Quietly. I want to know where she goes.’
Priya grabbed her coat and slipped outside.
She was back two minutes later, breathing hard.
‘She flagged a cab. Got in and left.’
‘No. Just looked tired. Fragile, almost.’
I let out a breath. ‘Good. Last thing I need is her faking a miscarriage on my bloody tile floor.’
The relief lasted until dinner.
I was halfway through a bite of roast chicken when my phone lit up with Louisa Granger’s name.
I wiped my fingers on a napkin and answered.
‘Aunt Louisa, how are you?’
Rhys’s voice exploded through the speaker like a fire alarm.
‘Mirabelle Vance! You spiteful bitch! You killed my baby!’
The fork clattered against my plate.
Across the table, Ashton stilled, his wine glass hovering in mid-air.
‘Cathy miscarried after seeing you! You’ve always hated her, fine, but the baby? How the fuck could you do this to my kid?’
He was shouting so loud my ear rang.
I shifted the phone away.
Ashton leaned forward. ‘What is it?’
I looked at him. My throat felt tight.
‘Catherine lost the baby. They’re saying it’s my fault.’
Rhys must’ve heard me.
‘It IS your fault! She was fine this morning. You sent her into a meltdown. What the hell did you say to her?’
He wasn’t even giving me space to answer.
The same Rhys who once tried to convince Catherine to get rid of the baby was now screaming at me like I’d committed murder.
‘You pushed her over the edge! You killed my child! I want a fucking explanation!’
In the background, Louisa’s voice broke in.
‘Mirabelle, what did you say to her? She walked out of your studio and now the baby’s gone—what happened?’
I exhaled hard and flat.
My chest felt tight from holding it in too long.
‘She came by this afternoon, yeah. Stayed maybe ten minutes, max. I didn’t touch her. We barely spoke. Whatever happened after that has fuck-all to do with me.’
Rhys didn’t buy a word of it. ‘Cathy’s been completely healthy. She sees you for ten minutes and ends up in the hospital? You had to have said something.’
‘Healthy? She looked pale as hell the second she showed up. For all I know, the miscarriage had already started and she just needed someone to blame.’
‘Bullshit! She only started cramping after she left your place. The timeline lines up. The doctor confirmed it.’
‘I didn’t say anything. I—’
‘She’s been crying non-stop!’ Rhys shouted over my voice. ‘She told me she went to your studio for a glass of water and you mocked her. You upset her so badly she—’
I dragged a hand down my face.
‘So she shows up uninvited, doesn’t drink anything, and now I’m supposed to take the fall because her uterus had a meltdown? If she’s got enough energy to accuse me of murder, she’s got enough to explain it to you herself. Why are you calling me?’
There was a beat of silence, then Rhys mumbled, ‘She’s weak. She can’t talk right now.’
‘Oh, that’s convenient. Can’t talk but managed to give you a full emotional monologue about the mean things I supposedly said? Amazing how her memory works when it suits her.’
‘Mirabelle Vance!’ Rhys roared. ‘She’s barely hanging on and you’re still making excuses. Do you even have a heart?’
‘I have more than that. I have video. I filmed the whole thing. Bet she didn’t tell you that, did she? I’ll send the video right now. You can both watch and tell me exactly where I murdered your miracle baby.’
I ended the call and tossed my phone on the table.
I’d lost my appetite.
I rang Daniel. ‘Send me the video from earlier. The one I asked you to record at the studio.’
He forwarded it within seconds.
I hit send to Louisa without bothering to type a message.
‘Good thing I had someone record it,’ I muttered. ‘I knew something was off the moment she showed up.’
Ashton stepped in behind me, leaning in to watch the screen over my shoulder.
‘She looked pale,’ he said. ‘And sickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already lost the baby by then. Probably showed up just so she could pin it on you.’
I nodded. ‘Makes sense now. I couldn’t figure out what the hell she wanted from me. But that baby was the only thing keeping her relevant to the Grangers. Without it, she’s got nothing. If she blames me, she gets to play the victim. Aunt Louisa won’t come down on her too hard, and Rhys’ll turn all that rage on me instead.’
I set my phone down. ‘She picked the perfect scapegoat.’
Except she didn’t count on me having a backup plan.
I opened the chat with Louisa.
There was nothing left to say.