Page 45 of Goldrage
Something but not enough. Not when guards stand outside Adrian’s door every hour of every day. Not when Bianca clings to him like a parasite whenever he’s allowed out. And not when Julian himself sometimes keeps watch, those hollow eyes tracking every movement like he’s afraid Adrian might vanish if he looks away.
I’ve been here over a week already and haven’t beenable to meet with Adrian once. The separation is killing me slowly. He’s healing from deep wounds while believing I might be carrying his brother’s child. What must he think of me? Does he hate me now?
He should hate me for what I did to Victoria.
Heels click on the marble and my entire body seizes up. That particular rhythm—a powerful beat getting closer—belongs to only one person.
Lady Harrow sweeps into the dining room, and the temperature seems to drop ten degrees. Her powder blue suit fits like expensive armor and the smile stretching across her face barely moves her porcelain cheeks. My emerald necklace glitters along her neck.
“Good morning, children.”
I shudder. We’re not children. We’re pawns on her chessboard, pieces to be moved and sacrificed according to her plans.
She glides to the side table and pours herself a mug of dark coffee. The steam curls up like smoke from a funeral pyre. “I can’t stop thinking about the festivities a few days ago.” She settles into a chair, stirring sugar into her coffee with maddening slowness. “Such a successful introduction to society, don’t you think, Aurelia?”
I play with my fork instead of answering. She can interpret my silence however she wants. My throat still aches where Julian’s knife kissed it. Every word costs me, so I’ve learned to ration them like water in a desert.
“I noticed you spent quite a bit of time with Olivia.” Lady Harrow’s tone shifts, sweetness curdling into sharpness. “Have you two become friends?” The spooncontinues its lazy circle around her cup.Clink. Clink. Clink.
I clear my throat. “Well, they do say victims can imprint on their abusers.”
Lorenzo stiffens next to me. His eyes find mine, questions burning behind them that I can’t answer. Not here. Not with her watching, always watching, observing our reactions like a scientist studying lab rats.
The cigar burns on my skin throb, as if responding to the woman who caused them. My stomach turns violently.
Lady Harrow doesn’t respond and I don’t want to give her my power, so I say evenly, “She was pleasant enough. So yes, I think we’re becoming friends.”
“Oh, she is a lovely woman.” Lady Harrow gives a hollow smile before sipping her coffee. “The Marlowe women have always excelled at playing their roles. Victoria possessed that same gift. She had mastered the art of warmth and understanding until the moment she sank her claws in.” She sets her coffee mug down with theatrical delicacy. “Though I suppose we both know how that ended for her. Poor dear.”
The casual reference to Victoria’s death drives a new spike of guilt straight through my lungs. Victoria’s screams rattle my brain again. But I keep my expression neutral, channeling every lesson in control Adrian ever taught me. “What exactly are you implying?”
Lady Harrow’s laugh flutters through the room. “Nothing specific, dear. Simply that women in your delicate condition should exercise more discretion in their associations. You’re carrying precious cargo now.” Shestirs her coffee, letting the silence press in before adding, “Assuming the child survives.”
I set my fork down and it clatters on the plate. “Meaning?” My tone is low and lethal enough to make Lorenzo shift and clear his throat in warning.
What is this bitch going on about?
I’d assumed Lady Harrow would want this baby—another Harrow heir to mold and corrupt. Another innocent life to twist into her image. But what if I miscalculated? What if she sees this pregnancy as a threat to her control?
What if she would…
My gaze drops to my untouched breakfast and I swallow. I reflect on every bite I’ve taken since arriving here. Has she already begun? Some subtle poison slipped into my food, meant to?—
“Well,” Lady Harrow says, “pregnancies can be so fragile, particularly for women under duress. Miscarriages happen with tragic frequency in the first trimester. One day you’re radiant with new life, the next...” Her shoulder lifts in an elegant shrug. “Nature has such efficient ways of eliminating complications.”
I grip the edge of the table, the tablecloth twisting in my fingers. “Is that a threat?”
Lorenzo’s muscles coil beside me, ready to spring. Even here, surrounded by cameras and guards, my cousin would fight for me. The knowledge steadies my rage.
“Threaten?” Lady Harrow’s eyes go wide with practiced innocence. “Dear, I’m merely voicing maternal concern. After all, if tragedy were to befall that baby—particularly if Julian proves to be the father—well.” Her lips curve into something too sharp to be a smile. “I shudder to imagine how severely my son might react. He might take his rage out on you and your family.” Her eyes shift to Lorenzo and she dips her chin.
Something snaps.I am so done with this bitch.But it’s not only her. It’s everything. Every indignity. Every manipulation. Every scar on my body. The weight of Valentine’s betrayal, Adrian’s wounds, Julian’s transformation into something monstrous—it all compresses into a single point of incandescent fury.
I dab at my lips with a cloth napkin. “You know what I find fascinating, Liora?”
Her name lands like a slap, and I savor the tiny flinch that cracks her perfect mask.
“How someone who spent years on her back, taking whatever degradation Lucian felt like serving, somehow believes she’s earned the right to threaten stronger women.”
