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My wedding dress was still on. My husband was kissing my sister. My water just broke on the marble floor. And the priest was already pronouncing them man and wife. I stood frozen at the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the railing, the other pressed against my swollen belly. Eight months pregnant. With his baby. "Do you, Daniel, take Vanessa to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The words didn't make sense. Three hours ago, I was the bride. The flowers, the four-hundred guests, the cake with our initials carved in gold — all of it was supposed to be mine. Then the wedding planner had pulled me into a side room. "There's been a change," she'd whispered, eyes darting. "Mr. Whitmore asked for the ceremony to proceed... without you." I'd laughed. I thought it was a joke. Until I saw my younger sister, Vanessa, gliding down the aisle in a dress I'd never seen, on the arm of the man who'd proposed to me on a yacht in Santorini six months ago. "Daniel." My voice cracked across the ballroom. Four hundred heads turned. The string quartet stuttered into silence. Daniel looked up at me — and smiled. Not guilty. Not afraid. Amused. "Oh good, you're awake," he said. "I was worried the sedative was too strong." The room tilted. My hand flew to my mouth. The champagne. The toast my sister had handed me before the ceremony. Drink up, sis, it's a big day. "You drugged me," I whispered. "We needed you out of the way for the legal part." Vanessa stepped forward, resting her manicured hand on Daniel's chest like she'd done it a thousand times. "The prenup only protects the wife, Claire. And as of two minutes ago — that's me." A contraction ripped through me. I doubled over, gasping, clutching the railing as warmth spread down my legs. Someone screamed. A glass shattered. But nobody moved toward me. Four hundred of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the city watched a pregnant woman buckle on a staircase — and not one of them lifted a finger. Because they all knew. They'd all known. I looked at my father, seated in the front row in his pressed tuxedo. He didn't even meet my eyes. He just checked his watch. "The merger closes tonight," he murmured to the man beside him. "Vanessa understands family loyalty. Claire never did." That was the moment something inside me died. And something far more dangerous was born. I pressed my palm flat against my belly, against the kicking, living proof that I had one thing left in this world that was mine. "You'll regret this," I said, my voice suddenly steady. "Every single one of you." Daniel laughed. "And what exactly are you going to do, Claire? You have no money. No name. No husband." He slid his arm around my sister. "You're nobody now." He was wrong. Because what none of them knew — what Daniel especially didn't know — was that I'd spent the last three months copying every file off his private server. And the baby in my belly? It wasn't his. I felt the wetness on my cheeks turn to something colder. I straightened up, smoothed my ruined gown, and smiled back at the man who thought he'd just destroyed me. "Enjoy the wedding," I said. Then my knees gave out, and the world went black.