I was eight months pregnant when my husband glanced at my suitcase, smirked, and whispered, ‘Did you honestly believe you could just walk out?’ I still remember the sickening thud of my body hitting the hardwood floor—and the absolute quiet that followed, when he refused to call an ambulance. To the rest of the world, I had a fairytale marriage to a charismatic real estate tycoon. Nobody guessed the nightmare unfolding behind our private gates. But the evening he tried to break me was merely the prologue to his absolute ruin.

Saturday evening arrived, transforming the suffocating mansion into a glittering spectacle of unimaginable wealth and false philanthropy.

Valets scrambled to park a fleet of luxury cars while a classical string quartet played softly in the grand foyer.

Julian stood at the base of the grand staircase, looking devastatingly handsome in a custom-tailored tuxedo.

I descended the stairs slowly, wearing a sweeping emerald silk gown that highlighted my heavy pregnancy.

Julian reached out and gripped my hand tightly, his fingers digging painfully into my knuckles as a warning.

"Smile for the cameras, darling, and remember not to wander off without me tonight," he murmured through a brilliant, fake smile.

I flashed my teeth for the photographers, leaning into his side to create the perfect illusion of a devoted, happy couple.

For the first two hours, the plan went perfectly as I politely mingled with politicians and bored socialites.

I sipped sparkling water and laughed at terrible jokes, keeping my eyes peeled for a catering waitress with auburn hair.

Finally, I spotted Sarah carrying a silver tray of champagne flutes near the massive arched doors of the dining room.

Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to communicate that the handoff was ready.

I subtly tugged on Julian's arm, widening my eyes slightly to mimic sudden discomfort.

"Julian, the baby is pressing heavily on my bladder, I really must use the downstairs powder room," I whispered softly.

He frowned, clearly annoyed at the interruption to his networking, but he couldn't deny a pregnant woman in front of the mayor.

"Be quick, Clara, they are serving the main course in fifteen minutes," he ordered, dropping my hand abruptly.

I nodded submissively and waddled away, feeling his intense, paranoid gaze burning into my back until I turned the corner.

I slipped into the elegant powder room, quickly locking the heavy brass deadbolt behind me.

The billionaire CEO offered $750,000 to calm her screaming son, but the...

The moment my daughter-in-law smiled and told me her plan for Christmas,...

The mother-in-law pushed the future daughter-in-law off the tower's roof...

Seconds later, a soft, rhythmic knock sounded against the wood, and I quickly pulled the door open to let Sarah inside.

My best friend pulled down her mask, tears shining in her eyes as she pulled me into a desperate, crushing hug.

Chapter 7 - The Handoff