The woman in red stood in the doorway as if she had been painted into the scene by fate itself.
Her dress was the color of fresh blood under winter light. Her hair was pinned into a sleek black knot, her lips curved with the faintest trace of satisfaction, and the file in her hand seemed heavier than paper had any right to be.
Adrian rose slowly from beside me.
For one terrible second, the pain in my body vanished beneath the cold fear in my chest.
Vivienne Shaw.
Adrian’s oldest family attorney. His father’s most loyal shadow. A woman who smiled like silk and ruined lives with signatures.
She looked at my stomach, then at Adrian.
“You need to listen to me,” she said. “Before she manipulates you again.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Vivienne,” he said quietly, “leave.”
“She disappeared for eight months.” Vivienne stepped inside. “She comes back pregnant on the day of the divorce signing, and you don’t find that convenient?”
A contraction tore through me.
I bent forward with a cry, fingers digging into the polished edge of the conference table.
Adrian turned instantly.
“Lena.”
“Don’t touch me,” I gasped, though my body betrayed me by leaning toward him.
His hands hovered helplessly in the air.
Behind him, Vivienne’s eyes sharpened.
