Page 112 of Porcelain Lies

Stella

I need to get out of here.

I can’t let these people intimidate me into sitting in this room all day. The morning sun beckons me outside, the promise of warmth drawing me from my gilded cage.

Taking the book I found when I arrived here, I slip through the French doors and pad across the flagstone path to the pool area. The water sparkles invitingly, and I settle onto one of the cushioned loungers, letting the sunshine soak into my skin.

If nothing else, I’ll work on my tan.

A crash from the Right Wing shatters my peaceful moment. The elegant woman I spotted earlier storms out looking like she’s ready to spit bullets. My stomach drops as she spots me and changes course, her perfectly made-up face twisting with rage.

“You.” She stalks toward me, finger pointed. “You’re the little whore who ruined everything.”

I scramble to sit up, but she’s already looming over me. “I-I don’t…”

“Don’t play innocent. Aleksei left me at the altar because of you.” Her voice drips with venom. “Did you think you’d won something? That he’d actually keep you?”

My mouth goes dry. “The altar?”

She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel. “Oh, you didn’t know? We were supposed to be married yesterday. But instead,he humiliated me in front of everyone.” She leans closer, her expensive perfume surrounding me. “And I will make both of you pay for that.”

“I never meant—”

“Save it.” She straightens, adjusting her Hermès scarf. “You’re just his latest toy. And when he breaks you, I’ll be there to watch you shatter.” Her lips curve into a cold smile. “Consider this your only warning.”

I watch her stride away, her threats settling like ice in my veins. The sun no longer feels warm enough to chase away the chill of her words.

I’m still reeling from her threats when heavy footsteps approach behind me. My spine stiffens as Aleksei’s presence fills the space she just vacated.

“Ignore Sofia. She’s irrelevant now.”

I jolt in alarm, my cheeks flaming as a thousand images flood my mind of him in my bed. As foggy as my head might feel, I’m pretty certain that I didn’t just dream that. But if he’s given it a moment of thought, it doesn’t reflect in his expression.

“She said you left her at the altar.” I say, instead of raising the tricky topic of what happened last night.

“That’s not your concern.” He runs a hand over his stubbled jawline. “We need to discuss your situation.”

“My… situation?” The words catch in my throat.

“Your pregnancy requires specific protocols.” He begins pacing beside the lounger. “You’ll have regular medical checks. A nutritionist will plan your meals. No caffeine, no alcohol, no processed sugar.”

I wrap my arms around my middle. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“You’ll follow my rules.” His tone is inflexible. “Exercise will be monitored. You’ll have a personal trainer to ensure your fitness is optimal. Walking is permitted in the gardens, with security present.”

“What about my job? My apartment?”

“Both unnecessary now. Your only focus is delivering a healthy heir.”

The clinical way he discusses my child makes my stomach turn. “I’m not just an incubator.”

“For the next seven months, that’s exactly what you are.” He checks his watch. “Your first medical appointment is in an hour. Imelda will bring you appropriate clothing.”

“Wait, don’t I get any say in this?”

His dark eyes lock onto mine. “You gave up that right when you texted me about the pregnancy. My child, my rules.”

“Excuse me?” My eyes are wide. “This is my child too!”

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