Chapter 3 - The Kick That Shattered the Ballroom
Two months later, Lucien and I attended the Blackwell Foundation’s annual charity gala.
The event took place inside the Grand Aurelia Hotel, a marble palace filled with crystal chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows, and polished floors that reflected every guest like a second, more honest version of themselves.
By then, my pregnancy was impossible to hide.
I wore a champagne satin gown with a loose waist and a slit that made walking easier. Lucien remained beside me in a fitted black shirt and tailored trousers, his gold watch catching the chandelier light whenever his hand rested protectively at my back.
He never treated me as fragile.
But he watched every doorway.
Security had warned us that Laya might attempt to enter. The Vanes had stopped inviting her to public functions after the paternity scandal, and Silas had moved her into a separate wing of his estate.
Still, I did not expect to see her.
Halfway through the reception, the ballroom doors opened.
Laya stood beneath the archway in a pale pink satin dress.
Her long blonde hair fell around her shoulders. A small jeweled purse hung from one wrist.
Three Vane guards followed her.
Silas entered behind them.
His face revealed nothing.
Conversations faded.
Laya’s gaze found me immediately.
She crossed the lobby with quick, sharp steps.
“You look comfortable,” she said.
“I am.”
Her eyes moved over my body.
“Pregnancy has made you enormous.”
Lucien stepped forward.
I touched his arm.
“No.”
He stopped.
That small act seemed to infuriate her more. She had expected him to control me. Instead, she watched him respect my choice.
I faced her.
“I’m growing a child.”
“You used to take better care of yourself.”
“I used to believe becoming smaller made cruel people kinder.”
Her smile vanished.
“My body is not a public argument,” I continued. “Neither is yours.”
Laya pressed a hand against her stomach.
Only then did I notice the slight curve beneath her dress.
“You’re pregnant?”
“This baby will prove I deserve everything.”
Silas’s hand settled at the back of her neck.
To strangers, the gesture appeared affectionate.
I recognized it as control.
“A child should never be born with a job,” I said.
Laya’s face twisted.
“You think you can lecture me because your husband pretends to worship you?”
“Lucien doesn’t worship me.”
“No. He just gives you everything I should have had.”
Silas tightened his fingers against her neck.
“Enough.”
She pulled away.
“No. I’m tired of everyone acting as if she won.”
“This isn’t a competition,” I said.
“It has always been a competition.”
Laya looked around the lobby.
Guests had begun watching.
Her humiliation required an audience.
“You stole Father’s respect,” she shouted. “You stole the husband I should have chosen. You stole the life that belonged to me.”
“I never chose for you.”
“You existed. That was enough.”
A strange stillness entered her face.
I recognized it.
The same stillness she had worn before stabbing me in my first life.
Lucien moved closer.
“Seraphina, step behind me.”
This time, I obeyed.
Laya saw the motion.
Her hand slipped inside her purse.
The Blackwell guards reached for their weapons.
But she did not pull out a gun.
She produced a small glass bottle and hurled it toward me.
Lucien turned, shielding my face with his body.
The bottle struck the floor and shattered.
Clear liquid spread across the marble.
One of the guards sniffed the air.
“Acid!”
Screams erupted.
Lucien moved me backward.
Laya lunged through the confusion.
Her eyes were fixed on my stomach.
She did not want to frighten me.
She wanted to harm my child.
I saw her hand stretch toward me.
Lucien reacted before anyone else.
He placed one arm around my waist, pulled me safely behind him, and delivered a controlled front kick into Laya’s upper torso.
The impact stopped her instantly.
She flew backward, losing one shoe as her purse spun across the marble.
Her body struck the floor several feet away.
The lobby fell silent.
Lucien remained between us, one arm holding me securely.
His voice was low.
“Stay away from my family.”
Laya gasped for breath.
“You kicked me.”
“You attacked a pregnant woman with acid.”
“I was aiming for her dress.”
“No,” I said. “You were aiming for my baby.”
The Vane guards did not move to help her.
Even Silas remained where he stood.
Laya struggled onto one elbow.
“This isn’t over.”
Lucien’s eyes turned cold.
“It is for you.”
Blackwell security surrounded her.
Silas finally spoke.
“She came under my name. I will handle her.”
Lucien looked at him.
“You had years to handle the danger inside your house.”
The words cut deeper than any insult.
Silas glanced at me.
For the first time, I saw something in his expression that resembled recognition.
He was beginning to understand that Laya had not become unstable because of their marriage.
She had entered it carrying violence within her.
But that did not absolve him.
“You knew what she was capable of,” Lucien said. “You brought her into a room with my pregnant wife.”
“I didn’t know about the acid.”
“You knew enough to bring guards.”
Police arrived within minutes.
Laya began screaming that Lucien had assaulted her. She pointed to the cameras and demanded his arrest.
The hotel’s security footage showed everything.
The bottle.
The lunge.
Lucien’s defensive movement.
A chemical specialist confirmed that the liquid could have caused severe burns and permanent blindness.
Laya was taken away in handcuffs.
As officers escorted her toward the doors, she looked over her shoulder.
“You think he’ll protect you forever?” she shouted. “Men like him always reveal what they are.”
I placed one hand over my belly.
“Perhaps. But you already have.”
After the lobby cleared, my knees began trembling.
Lucien turned to me immediately.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“The baby?”
“I think he’s all right.”
“Doctor,” he called.
A physician from the guest list checked my pulse while an ambulance waited outside.
Only after hearing the baby’s heartbeat did Lucien breathe normally.
In the hospital examination room, he sat beside me.
“I should have prevented her from entering.”
“You didn’t invite her.”
“I knew she was dangerous.”
“So did I.”
He lowered his head.
“I kicked a pregnant woman.”
“She was trying to attack another pregnant woman.”
“I could have hurt her child.”
“You stopped the impact before she landed.”
His control had been extraordinary. Even in rage, Lucien had directed the kick toward her upper body and signaled a nearby guard to catch her fall.
But I understood what troubled him.
Protection could become violence quickly.
And Lucien had spent his life surrounded by men who used one to excuse the other.
I took his hand.
“You stopped when the threat ended.”
His eyes met mine.
“That matters.”
The fetal monitor continued its steady rhythm.
A heartbeat.
Our child was safe.
The following morning, Lucien’s attorney informed us that Laya had been released into private medical custody because of her pregnancy.
Silas had arranged it.
“She should be in jail,” Lucien said.
“She’ll be watched.”
“By Vane employees.”
The answer satisfied neither of us.
Three days later, Laya vanished from the clinic.
Silas claimed he did not know how.
Security footage showed a nurse entering her room at 2:13 a.m.
The woman wore a mask and carried medical supplies.
At 2:26, she left with Laya in a wheelchair.
The vehicle waiting outside belonged to a Blackwell company.
Lucien watched the recording twice.
“That truck was stolen last month.”
“Who stole it?”
“We don’t know.”
My blood turned cold.
Laya did not possess the skills or connections to arrange an escape.
Someone was helping her.
Someone with access to Blackwell operations.
That evening, an envelope arrived at the estate.
There was no stamp.
No return address.
Inside lay a photograph of me sleeping.
It had been taken through our bedroom window.
Across the back, someone had written six words.
THE NEXT TIME, HE WILL FAIL.
Lucien stared at the message.
Then he called every member of his security command.
By midnight, the estate was locked down.
But one question remained.
May you like
Was Laya working with an enemy of the Blackwells?
Or had an enemy inside our home decided to use my sister against us?
