Eva settled in as if she had always been a part of the mansion.

But it didn’t happen all at once. No, it was a gradual transition.

A kind of conquest that didn’t make loud announcements, but was so obvious… so suffocating.

By the second morning, her luggage had been unpacked into the east wing.

On the third morning, fresh flowers, sent from multiple adoring fans, appeared in the sitting room_ she claimed it was a routine.

By the fourth, the mansion’s staff had adjusted their routines around her preferences.

I noticed it in the way Camilla avoided my eyes now.

In the way Eva took my place, beside Lucian at the breakfast table.

Meals were prepared and served earlier, as Eva claimed her doctor suggested.

Lucian himself barely spoke to me.

When he did, it was brief and practical. Almost professional. Devoid of anything that resembled emotion.

Eva, on the other hand, spoke very often.

“Claire,” she called one morning, her voice carrying easily across the hall. “Could you help me for a moment?”

I was climbing up the stairs after taking my breakfast in the kitchen, as far away from Eva as I could get.

I paused at the top of the stairs.

She stood in the living room, one hand resting lightly on her stomach, as usual.

“I’m feeling faint,” she spoke softly. “The doctor said I shouldn’t strain myself.”

I stared at her without responding.

What did she want me to say? Sorry that you and Lucian’s baby is giving you trouble?

The staff too, stood frozen, watching the awkward exchange.

“What do you need?” I finally asked.

Eva smiled. “Something simple. Breakfast. Lucian prefers homemade meals, and I thought… well, the kitchen is your place, not mine.”

The humiliation burned through me like hot steel.

“I’m not your cook,” I scowled.

Eva’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course not. I would never imply that.” She tilted her head. “But surely you understand that stress isn’t good for the baby.”

For a moment, we just stood in the dangerously silent room, glaring at each other. The tension could have swallowed us whole.

The woman who had won.

And the woman who had been scorned.

Then I turned and walked away.

I wish it stopped there.

It didn’t.

Eva asked for tea at odd hours.

She called the decorations in the east wing tacky. She even commented on how tense I looked.

Always with that hand on her stomach.

But the more I ignored her, the more determined she became.

“Lucian,” I heard her say one afternoon as Lucian passed through the hallway. “Claire doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Lucian stopped.

“What’s going on?” He asked, immediately concerned.

“She refuses to help,” Eva continued softly. “I don’t want to cause trouble, but I’m worried about the baby. The doctor says emotional hostility can be dangerous.”

Lucian turned to me.

“Do what she says.” He instructed.

I stared back at him. “You can’t be serious.”

His expression hardened. “This isn’t about you, stop being difficult.”

That was only the beginning of Lucian taking Eva’s side over mine.

And it hurt more than the pregnancy itself.

That evening, Eva asked me to cook for her.

I almost laughed out loud.

“I won’t,” I replied flatly. Defiantly.

Lucian, who was sitting with her, looked up from his tablet.

“Claire.” He called, like he was warning me to get in line.

Like I was an employee, not his wife of five years!

“No.” I repeated firmly. “I won’t.”

There was a long pause.

The silence stretched, thick and deadly, as I silently dreaded Lucian’s reaction.

Lucian has always hated being disobeyed. And I had just crossed him.

“You will,” he said, rising from his seat. “Or you can leave.”

Leave.

The word hit me like a blow to my chest.

I thought of the prenup then. Of my degree that I hadn’t used in ages. Of the life I had built entirely around him.

Where could I possibly go? I had nothing outside the Dhark mansion. And Lucian knew that…

I turned and went into the kitchen.

I spent two hours cooking.

Every ingredient was measured, I cleaned every surface, I made sure the dinner was prepared carefully.

Camilla watched silently from the doorway, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t dare.

When I finished, I served Eva in the dining room.

“That smells lovely,” she said, smiling widely.

Lucian sat across from her at the dining table.

I didn’t sit. My seat was already taken by Eva anyways.

Instead, I stood by the side, with my arms folded tightly in front of my chest, watching my husband eat breakfast with his pregnant mistress.

Eva took her first bite, then her second.

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