Quick. Faint.
My brows furrowed—but I didn’t let go.
A fingernail? A pin?
I ignored it.
Focused instead on keeping her upright.
Her breath hitched.
She gasped, clutching at me.
I helped her to her feet—firmly—and then pulled back abruptly, breaking contact.
“If I hadn’t caught you,” I said, my voice low and controlled, “you would’ve landed belly-first on that stone.”
I gestured sharply toward the ground between us.
“You could’ve killed your own child.”
My eyes locked onto hers.
Unwavering.
“Is that how far you’re willing to go—to stage another accident and blame me again?” I asked, my voice sharp.
Violet straightened slowly.
Unhurried.
Like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn’t just tried to turn gravity into a weapon.
She smoothed her dress over her stomach with deliberate care, her movements calm—almost graceful.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
And there—
In that look—
Was something darker than anger.
Something satisfied.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” she murmured. “But strength won’t save you forever.”
“If you make one more stupid attempt to fall,” I said quietly, my voice steady, controlled—, “I will let you hit the ground.”
Her breath hitched.
Violet took another step back.
Her face had gone pale beneath the carefully applied makeup, the color draining from her features as if the ground beneath her was no longer stable.
“Since you refuse to do as I’ve asked, don’t blame me for the misfortune that’s about to befall you.”
