The grand foyer fell into a suffocating, razor-sharp silence.
Ana stood frozen on the bottom step of the staircase, the color drained completely from her face. Her chest felt crushed under an unbearable, suffocating weight as she stared at Valerie.
The guilt, the shame, and the agonizing realization of her own past foolishness... a mistake that had cost her everything, including the quiet, terrible loss of her unborn child during their bitter separation... swirled inside her like poison.
Valerie mistook Ana’s terrified silence for cold detachment. Poisoned by the venom Vivian had whispered into her ear, Valerie’s blue eyes hardened with bitter resentment.
"Why is a member of Vance standing in my father’s house on the day we mourn him?" Valerie asked, her voice quiet but sharp enough to slice through the quiet hall. "Hasn’t your family taken enough from us, Anastasia?"
Victoria’s brow furrowed, stepping forward with a warning edge in her voice. "Valerie, maintain decorum..."
"No, Mother," Valerie cut in, her hands trembling in her dark coat. "She shouldn’t be here."
Before the tension could boil over, the heavy, measured footsteps of shoes echoed against the polished marble floor.
Damian stepped into the foyer. Towering and dark, his presence instantly seized control of the room. His cold eyes didn’t even flicker toward Ana’s trembling form.
Instead, his gaze swept past his sister and landed squarely on the woman standing comfortably beside her.
"And why are you standing in my house, Vivian?" Damian asked, his deep baritone dripping with absolute, ruthless ice.
Vivian’s polished smile flickered for a fraction of a second, but before she could utter a single charming excuse, Valerie instinctively took a step in front of her.
"Vivian is here with me, Damian," Valerie declared defensively, her voice rising as she shielded her friend. "She drove me from the city. She’s been checking on me, comforting me, and actually showing up for this family... unlike someone who only brought us scandal and broke this family apart!"
Vivian subtly lowered her head, playing the part of the modest, devoted family friend to absolute perfection, while Valerie’s harsh words hung heavily in the air.
Damian’s jaw tightened, a lethal, quiet storm brewing behind his dark eyes. He didn’t dignify his sister’s outburst with an argument. He simply stared down at Vivian, his silence delivering a terrifyingly clear message. She was not welcomed here.
"The memorial service is starting in the formal dining room," Damian said softly, his tone low, authoritative, and leaving zero room for further debate. "Move."
The long mahogany dining table was draped in black linen, illuminated only by the dim flicker of tall silver candlesticks. The atmosphere during the memorial luncheon was heavy enough to drown in.
Ana sat near the middle of the table, directly across from Valerie and Vivian. She barely touched her food, her fingers trembling so badly she had to rest her hands in her lap under the table.
She kept her gaze fixed on her crystal water glass, completely unable to look up.
The guilt was consuming her alive. Every time she glanced at Valerie, all she could see was that rainy night four years ago.
She had built a lie in her own head, accused Damian of infidelity, and allowed that misunderstanding to shatter their marriage. She was too terrified, too utterly ashamed, to ever confess the truth to Damian... to admit that her own blind jealousy had set their tragic past into motion.
Across the table, Vivian leaned in close to Valerie, whispering soft, affectionate remarks and acting as her steady pillar, completely grounding her place by Valerie’s side.
At the head of the table, Damian carried the quiet, formidable weight of the Sterling patriarch. He conversed coldly with the estate executives about the family foundation, completely detached from the quiet drama unfolding around him.
To anyone else, Damian appeared completely focused on his late father’s legacy.
But he noticed everything.
His sharp, observant eyes caught the silent tremor in Ana’s shoulders. He saw the complete absence of her usual quiet, stubborn defiance, replaced by a raw, hollow fragility he had never seen in her before. He noted how her breath hitched every time Valerie’s name was spoken.
Without breaking eye contact with the estate lawyer sitting to his left, Damian reached down beneath the long velvet tablecloth.
His massive, warm hand found Ana’s knee under the table.
His long fingers wrapped around her soft skin through the fabric of her dress, applying a firm, unyielding pressure.
It wasn’t a gentle comfort, nor was it an apology... It was an intense, possessive grip that anchored her trembling frame, grounding her to his side while silently reminding her that she belonged entirely to him, no matter what storm raged in the room.
Ana’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at her plate, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs, completely trapped beneath his heavy, quiet touch.
________________________
The suffocating weight of the formal lunch finally broke as the guests moved toward the estate drawing room for tea.
Ana excused herself quietly, her knees weak as she practically escaped into the cold corridor leading toward the estate’s private library.
She pressed her cold palms against her burning cheeks, trying to process the suffocating wave of guilt and revelation crashing over her.
"Looking a little pale, Anastasia."
The sharp, silk-smooth voice echoed down the quiet hallway.
Ana turned around slowly. Vivian stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a polished pillar. The meek, supportive front she had worn all morning was completely gone... replaced by a cruel, triumphant smirk.
"Leave me alone, Vivian," Ana said, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts to hold her ground. "This is a memorial. Have some respect."
"Respect?" Vivian scoffed softly, stepping closer, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. "For who? For your broken heart? Or for the marriage you were stupid enough to ruin two years ago?"
Ana’s eyes narrowed, a sudden, dangerous coldness washing through her blood. "What are you talking about?"
Vivian let out a low, amused laugh, stepping right into Ana’s space.
"Did you really think Damian was cheating on you back then, doll?" Vivian purred, her eyes gleaming with utter malice.
Anastasia frowned.
"All those anonymous text messages you received whenever Damian was seen out at business dinners? Every little tip-off about him spending time with other women? It was all me, Anastasia. I fed you those lies piece by piece, and like a pathetic, insecure little girl, you swallowed every single word."
Ana felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her. "You..."
"And that fateful night two years ago?" Vivian continued, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper, enjoying every second of Ana’s horror.
"I was the one who drove Valerie to the brink of a nervous breakdown that evening. I made sure she was so unstable, so unhinged over her father’s death, that Damian had no choice but to carry her inside the house in the middle of the night. I knew you’d be watching from the stairs. I knew your blind, foolish jealousy would handle the rest... and it did. You walked right out on him."
Every agonizing memory slammed into Ana’s head... the endless sleepless nights, the bitter accusations, the divorce, and the quiet, devastating loss of her unborn child during their separation.
All of it... engineered by the woman standing in front of her.
A blinding fury erupted deep within Ana’s soul, completely burning away her shame.
Crack.
The sharp, thunderous sound of a slap echoed violently down the cavernous corridor.
The sheer force of Ana’s strike whipped Vivian’s head to the side, sending her stumbling backward against the mahogany wall. Vivian gasped in shock, clutching her instantly reddening, burning cheek.
Before Ana could take another breath, the sound of heavy footsteps and rustling silk approached from around the corner.
"What in the world is going on here?!" Victoria’s stern voice boomed.
In a split second, Vivian’s shocked expression melted into a picture of helpless, hysterical terror. She collapsed onto her knees right on the cold marble floor, burying her face in her hands as silent, heavy tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Anastasia!" Vivian sobbed dramatically, her voice trembling violently as she held her swelling cheek. "I was only trying to ask if you were doing okay... I didn’t mean to upset you..."
Valerie came rushing around the corner, instantly gasping at the sight of her friend trembling on the floor. "Vivian!"
Valerie dropped to her knees beside Vivian, her head snapping up to glare at Ana with pure, burning hatred. "Are you insane?! She was only trying to be nice to you! How dare you lay a hand on her in my father’s house!"
Victoria stood frozen in shock, looking between Vivian’s sobbing form and Ana’s chest heaving with rage.
And right behind them, stepping out from the shadows of the corridor, stood Damian.
His massive frame blocked out the warm light of the hallway. His face was unreadable, but his obsidian eyes weren’t looking at Vivian weeping on the floor.
His dark, piercing gaze was locked squarely on Ana... reading the raw, explosive fury burning in her eyes, knowing with absolute certainty that his quiet wife didn’t strike like a cobra without a reason.
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