I crawled off the bed on shaky legs, grabbed my old phone from the dresser—the one they monitored but still let me use for "approved" browsing.
Fingers trembling, I typed his name and Zaitseva.
The results loaded instantly.
Photos. Red carpet. Galas. Her arm looped through his.
Stunning red curls. Sultry eyes. Designer gown. She looked like she belonged on his arm.
Headlines screamed:
"Silas Thorne's childhood sweetheart. Vanessa Zaitseva returns from London—wedding bells soon?"
"The only woman worthy of the Thorne name. Why has Silas waited three years?"
"Waited three years…"
Articles gushed about their perfect match—old money, power, shared history. Rumors said he'd delayed the engagement announcement so she could chase her art career in Europe.
Romantic. Noble. Perfect.
Every word felt like a slap.
I was never even a mistress.
I was just the rented surrogate. The placeholder womb.
Perhaps I was here only because Vanessa was studying abroad and was temporarily unable to have children.
Is that so?
Tears hit the screen, smearing her smiling face.
Chapter Two
Silas
The bedroom door clicked shut behind me, cutting off Anthea's amber eyes—full of longing and heartbreak.
Her warmth still lingered on my hands, but I killed that feeling in two fucking seconds flat. Anthea was the breeding vessel my father handpicked to continue the Thorne bloodline. Nothing more.
I cleaned up fast and headed downstairs.
The grand hall gleamed under a massive crystal chandelier, its light sharp and decadent, bathing everyone below.
My father, the current Pakhan, sat in his usual spot. Old, but those eyes were still hawk-sharp.
"Silas." He nodded, satisfied. "You're here."
"Father." I returned the nod.
Then I turned to Vanessa. She sat in the armchair beside him, flawless. A red dress hugged her curves, matching that signature mane of red curls. Legs crossed at an angle, a polished smile on her lips.
This was the future lady of the Thorne family. A mob princess who knew exactly what mask to wear and when.
"Vanessa, welcome back. How was London?"
"Very productive. Silas, it's been too long. You look morecomposed. More dangerous." Her smile widened as her gaze traveled over me.
