Then noise erupted below. I looked down from the balcony. A team of gardeners carrying shovels and hoes was walking into the garden.
My nerves went taut.
No... A nightmare feeling washed over me. I ran downstairs, protecting my belly, almost gasping from the effort. My heavy body made it hard to breathe.
Silas and Vanessa stood side by side in the gazebo, watching coldly as the gardeners started digging up the dahlias.
"Silas, what is this? Why are you pulling them out?" I still couldn't believe what I was seeing.
The gardeners paused at my voice.
"Vanessa's allergic to dahlia pollen." Silas looked at me, delivering the excuse flatly. "The doctor said these flowers could trigger her asthma. For her health, they have to go."
"Allergic?" I stared at him in disbelief, then at Vanessa beside him. "She was fine in the garden that day. She stayed for so long."
"Anthea, I know you love these flowers... but I really can't breathe." Vanessa sighed, sounding weak. "At the hospital, I couldn't catch my breath for days."
She coughed a few times for effect. Silas immediately looked down at her, worry flashing in his eyes, and pulled her against him.
"Don't talk. You just got out of the hospital. You need rest." His voice was gentle.
My heart sank. I couldn't save these flowers. Just like I could never hold onto Silas.
Sure enough, Silas ordered the gardeners, "Do it."
"No—" I screamed inside, but my body didn't move. I had no right to stop this.
I just stood there and watched the shovels cut down, watched those white flowers ripped from the earth and thrown into black garbage bags. Every shovel strike felt like it was hitting my heart.
These flowers were like my pathetic feelings for Silas—they never should have existed. Too fragile. They were never going to survive the manor's winter.
My legs nearly gave out. As the last dahlia fell, I heard my heart shatter completely.
Silas seemed to notice my silence. He turned and glanced at me. I saw his eyes land on my blistered hand, lingering.
But Vanessa coughed again. Silas pulled his gaze away, wrapped an arm around her, and turned toward the main house.
"It's windy out here. Let's go inside," I heard him say to her.
They left. Just a ruined garden, and me—hollow, trembling in the cold wind.
Chapter Four
Anthea
Since Vanessa's little garden stunt, I'd learned to keep my head down. Way down. I stopped going outside, stopped looking for those rare soft moments in Silas's eyes.
That evening, Maria told me to come to dinner. I wanted to say no, but—
"Miss Vanessa will be there too," Maria said. "Pakhan's orders."
I stared at myself in the mirror. Swollen. Exhausted. Nothing like I used to be. Maybe that's what they wanted—the Bratva Pakhan and Silas. A compliant tool.
I walked into the dining room. The chandelier's cold light made me squint. Pakhan sat at the head of the table, radiating authority. Silas sat on his left in a sharp suit, looking like some gorgeous statue.
Vanessa sat across from Silas. She swirled her wine, her red curls draped perfectly over her shoulders. When she saw me, she set down her glass and smiled—polite, empty.
"Anthea, you're here." Her voice dripped sweetness, like we were girlfriends having tea.
