Chapter 1 - THE PUSH
The first scream at Isolde's baby shower came before anyone understood what Genevieve had done.
One second Isolde was standing beside the grand staircase, one hand resting beneath the curve of her stomach while a photographer tried to organize three generations of Vale relatives.
The next, Genevieve had her by the arm.
Hard.
Isolde turned.
“Genevieve?”
Genevieve shoved her.
Not a stumble.
Not two women bumping shoulders in a crowded mansion.
Both hands.
Forward.
Toward the stairs.
Isolde's heel missed the edge.
Her body tilted backward.
“Rowan!”
Rowan crossed the marble floor before the nearest guest moved.
He caught Isolde around the waist.
Her shoulder struck his chest.
For one sick second, her weight kept pulling both of them toward the staircase.
Rowan planted one foot against the bottom riser and dragged her back.
A champagne glass shattered somewhere behind them.
Isolde clung to him.
Her face had gone white.
“I'm okay.”
Rowan did not answer.
He looked up.
Genevieve stood three steps above them in an ivory suit, one hand still resting on the banister.
Perfect hair.
Diamond earrings.
No panic.
No apology.
Rowan handed Isolde to her friend Camille.
“Stay with her.”
Then he climbed.
Slowly.
The guests stopped breathing together.
“You deliberately pushed my wife, didn't you?”
Genevieve looked past him at Isolde.
“She should never have been standing there.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Genevieve's eyes returned to her son.
For thirty-four years Rowan had watched that face negotiate acquisitions, funerals, lawsuits and family betrayals without changing temperature.
It did not change now.
“She’s nothing but a worthless poor girl.”
Rowan hit her.
One open-handed slap.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the foyer.
Genevieve staggered sideways.
Her heel slipped.
She went down onto one knee against the carpeted stair.
Several guests gasped.
Rowan stood above her.
Immediately, part of him knew the slap had been wrong.
It did not make what she had done less monstrous.
It did not make his hand justified after the danger had passed.
But the anger was already out.
“You’ll lose everything if you ever hurt her.”
His voice was low enough that everyone leaned closer without meaning to.
Genevieve touched her cheek.
Then looked at her hand as though checking whether Rowan had actually done it.
She stood.
No tears.
No outrage.
She smiled.
That frightened him more.
She moved close enough that only Rowan, Isolde and the first row of guests could hear.
“Then don't leave Isolde alone tonight.”
Isolde's fingers tightened around Camille's arm.
May you like
Rowan stared at his mother.
Genevieve gave him nothing else.
