Chapter 1 - The Glass in Her Hand
Elena woke to the taste of blood and the sound of someone screaming her name.
She was on the dining room floor, one cheek pressed against marble so cold it burned. Her belly cramped hard beneath her silk robe. A jagged piece of glass shook in her right hand, its edge pressed against the soft skin below her ribs.
"Elena! Don't move!"
Marcus stood in the doorway, white-faced, one palm raised like he was approaching a frightened animal.
She dragged in a breath. "She pushed me. Victoria pushed me into the table."
"There is no broken table."
"What?"
"Look at me. Put the glass down."
Elena turned her head.
The long dining table gleamed under the chandelier, flawless from one end to the other. Not a crack. Not a missing wineglass. Not a drop of blood except the thin line running down Elena's own palm.
Her gaze snapped to the chair at the head of the table.
Victoria's crimson velvet dress lay across it like a shed skin.
Empty.
Elena's breath stopped.
"She was wearing that," she whispered. "She came at me. She said the baby belonged to Blackwood. She grabbed my hair."
Marcus crouched two yards away. "Mom left for Boston yesterday morning."
"No. She was here."
"Elena."
"I saw her!"
The glass bit deeper as her fist tightened.
Marcus flinched. "Please. For our baby. Put it down."
Something in his voice reached her. Elena released the shard. It struck the marble with a bright, tiny click.
Marcus crossed the distance and pulled her against him. She shook so hard her teeth knocked together.
Then she saw the teacup on the floor beside her.
Blue porcelain. Gold rim. The same cup Victoria insisted she use every night.
A chalky pink stain clung to the bottom.
Elena pushed Marcus away. "Don't touch the tea."
He followed her stare. "Why?"
"Because she brings it to me every night."
"The tea?"
"The vitamins." Elena's voice dropped. "She crushes them in the tea. Says they help the baby sleep."
Marcus stared at the cup.
A floorboard creaked above them.
Both of them looked toward the ceiling.
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The house was supposed to be empty.
Then, from the upstairs hall, came the slow scrape of a door opening.
