Smoke clawed at my throat as I stumbled onto the evacuation bus, one hand pressed to my belly, the other clutching the locket at my neck—the last thing my mother gave me, the only proof I had of my marriage. Behind me, the mansion collapsed in a shower of sparks. Ahead, silence. Then whispers.\n\n‘That’s her,’ a woman hissed—Victoria, my future sister-in-law. ‘The mistress. Can’t believe she showed her face.’ Her children sneered. A man spat near my shoes. I tried to speak, but my voice cracked. No ID. No phone. Just sweat, soot, and the fluttering kicks of my unborn child.\n\nThey tore the locket from my neck. Crushed it underfoot. ‘You don’t belong here,’ Victoria said, eyes blazing. ‘We’ll make sure your bastard never inherits a thing.’\n\nThen the cramps hit—sharp, deep. I doubled over. Was this labor? Could stress do this?\n\nThe bus rumbled forward, lights flickering. I had no strength to fight. But somewhere out there, my brother was coming. If he didn’t arrive soon, neither would I.