"Kirill..."
A delicate voice cut in, like a fine needle piercing the fragile bubble between us.
Genevie approached, carrying an elegant gift box, wearing that perfect, flawless smile. Her eyes were like a snake's, tongue flicking, sweeping over our joined hands.
"Harper, happy birthday." She extended the box while naturally linking her arm through Kirill's, voice sickeningly sweet. "Sorry we're late. Took forever choosing your gift."
As Genevie spoke, she turned slightly. The champagne silk dress perfectly outlined her slender waist and long frame. She stood at least five-seven, and in heels, she looked like a doll from a fashion magazine.
My gaze dropped to her hand resting on Kirill's arm. Pale, delicate, nails trimmed into perfect ovals, painted nude pink. Perfect, like her.
I unconsciously pulled my ownhand back.
I'd never have hands like that. Mine only had calluses from years of heavy lifting.
I could feel the guests' gazes shifting—comparing, judging, scoring us both.
Was this my birthday gift?
A feast of humiliation, a label reading "substitute," and a husband who held my hand but kept his heart god knows where.
Chapter Sixteen
Harper
"Harper, take it," Kirill's voice murmured beside me. "Genevie picked this out especially for you. You'll love it."
He sounded almost hopeful, like he actually believed I'd love a gift from her. Like we could all just play happy family.
I looked up at him. Same face. Same man. But he felt like a complete stranger.
I was starting to wonder if what we had—if it had ever been real at all, or just something I'd imagined.
My throat burned. I swallowed hard, forcing the feeling down.
"Thank you." My voice came out flat. Polite.
I reached out and took the box from Genevie. Light. Perfectly wrapped. A silk ribbon tied in a bow. I didn't even want to open it.
Face it, Harper. Genevie didn't do anything wrong. She just happened to have everything you wanted—beauty, pedigree, and Kirill's love. You're the one in the wrong. The thief who stole what wasn't hers.
I told myself that. Tried to believe it. Anything to keep from breaking down in front of everyone.
I should've known my place from the start. But I was too stupid. I actually thought I could matter to him.
"Oh, wonderful!" Genevie's voice rang out like bells. Her smile was sweet, innocent. "Harper, I'm so glad you'll accept it. I've been wanting to talk to you properly for a while now."
She tilted her head. Her golden hair caught the light from the chandeliers. I noticed Kirill watching her, his eyes soft.
"It's just that I haven't been well. I've been in treatment, so I haven't had the chance." She touched her stomach lightly, something fragile flickering in her eyes. "I know my being here might have caused you some... discomfort. So I thought we could talk privately. Clear up any misunderstandings."
I didn't answer.
I didn't want her explanations. I didn't even want to look at her.
Logically, I knew Genevie was innocent. She was just a woman fate had screwed over, forced to leave the man she loved. She came back seeking protection, carrying his child. None of that was her fault.
But I couldn't control the jealousy. The grief.
