Chapter 2

My stomach dropped.

The certainty in Sebastian's voice made something cold crawl up my spine.

Had Ethan somehow gotten out?

"Mrs. Holt." An older socialite cut across the room toward me, voice shrill with indignation. "How much longer do you intend to make a scene?"

"You're the wife of the Holt Group's heir. Instead of protecting this family's name, you're shielding a criminal from your own bloodline. You have no business calling yourself the mistress of the Holt household."

"What — should Sebastian turn a blind eye while your thug of a brother destroys Clara and drives her to her grave?"

Sebastian shot me a withering look. "Lena. Stop embarrassing yourself."

I let out a short, cold laugh and swept my gaze across the room — all these people so certain of their righteousness, so eager to follow whoever was loudest.

"It seems no matter what actually happened tonight, the blame was always going to land on my brother."

"How dare you—"

Clara recoiled as though I'd slapped her, fresh tears streaking her cheeks, her expression the perfect portrait of wounded innocence.

She bit her trembling lip.

"I have never tried to attach myself to anyone. I have never wanted anything I didn't earn."

"And now I'm being called shameless. Desperate."

Her voice splintered. "Fine. If the Carver family won't believe me, I'd rather die than have any part of this."

She spun and threw herself toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Three society wives caught her in a shrieking tangle of arms.

"Miss Hayes, don't!"

"It's that Carver boy's fault — every bit of it!"

"You can't let him win by doing something like this!"

They comforted Clara with one breath and spat venom at me with the next.

"Clara was going to be the Sinclair heir's wife. The Carvers are what — a mid-tier business family? You think a woman with her future would risk her reputation to frame you?"

Sebastian stepped in close, his tone softening into something that might have looked like concern.

"Lena. It's over. Let Ethan marry Clara, issue a public apology, make the financial settlement."

"If this goes to court, a sexual assault charge alone puts him away for ten years. The Carver Group's stock collapses overnight. How do you explain that to the board?"

In my last life, I had believed every word of this.

I'd convinced myself Ethan had done it — drunk, reckless, out of control — and I'd spent years drowning in guilt. I handed over Carver Group's most valuable contracts to the Hayes family.

I treated Clara like royalty.

And seven and a half months later, she delivered another man's child and took everything we had built.

Nausea rolled through me in a slow, vicious wave.

I pulled my arm free from Sebastian's grip.

"Letting Clara Hayes walk into my family without the truth coming out first?" I said. "Not a chance in hell."

The last trace of warmth vanished from Sebastian's face. His eyes went flat and mean.

Before he could speak, Mr. Hayes stormed through the doors, his face the color of iron.

He crossed to Clara without a word and struck her across the face — clean, sharp, loud enough to echo.

Clara staggered and hit the floor, blood welling at the corner of her mouth.

"You embarrass me in front of these people?" he snarled.

"Get out. Buy a plane ticket. Die abroad if you have to — just don't come back and drag the Hayes name any further through the dirt."

Two bodyguards moved in to drag her out.

"Don't touch me."

Clara snatched a fruit knife off the nearest table and drew it across her wrist without hesitation.

The room erupted.

Someone screamed. Others rushed to stop her. Hands grabbed at my sleeve.

"Mrs. Holt — you're just going to stand there?"

"If Ethan hadn't done what he did, she wouldn't be doing this!"

"Can the Carver family even live with themselves?"

I watched the performance in silence.

A flash of something vicious crossed Clara's eyes. Her grip on the knife tightened.

The blade parted skin. Blood came fast and bright.

The society wives shrieked in unison.

"The Carver family has blood on their hands!"