A soft knock at the door made her jump. Mrs. Gable entered, but the warm smile she had yesterday was replaced by a look of deep pity. She was carrying a silver tray, but it didn't hold a delicious breakfast. It held a glass of green juice, several white pills, and a small, stainless steel box.
"Good morning, Nicole," Mrs. Gable said quietly. "Mr. Sterling sent word from the office. He said you are to begin the protocol immediately."
Nicole sat up, pulling the covers to her chest. "The protocol?"
"Dr. Vance is waiting in the sunroom," the housekeeper explained. "These pills are to prepare your system. You must take them all before he begins the first round of injections."
Nicole looked at the tray. The pills looked like small, white stones. "I'm scared of needles, Mrs. Gable."
The older woman sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to pat Nicole's hand. "I know, dear. But the Master was very clear. He said to remind you of 'Section 4' of the agreement. Any delay in the medical schedule is a breach of contract."
The threat was like a splash of ice water. Nicole took the glass and swallowed the pills. They tasted bitter, like the life she had just signed up for.
Ten minutes later, Nicole was led to the sunroom. It was a beautiful room filled with exotic plants, but in the center sat Dr. Vance, looking like a cold executioner in his white coat. He didn't greet her. He just pointed to a reclining chair.
"Roll up your sleeve," he said, his voice as mechanical as a computer.
The next hour was a blur of pain and humiliation. The injections were thick and made her arm feel like it was on fire. As the hormones entered her system, Nicole felt a wave of nausea. She looked out the window at the beautiful gardens she wasn't allowed to walk in, feeling more like a laboratory animal than a human being.
"You will feel tired," Dr. Vance said, packing his bag. "You may feel emotional. These are high doses to ensure we get the result Mr. Sterling demands. He doesn't have time for multiple attempts."
"Does he even care if it hurts?" Nicole whispered.
The doctor stopped and looked at her for the first time. "Mr. Sterling cares about the result, Miss. In his world, the process is irrelevant. I suggest you get some rest."
Nicole spent the afternoon drifting in and out of a feverish sleep. Her body felt heavy, and her mind was a mess of jewelry designs she would never make and a life she would never have. By 4:00 PM, the nausea had faded enough for her to stand. She needed air. She needed to feel like a person again.
She walked out onto the landing of the grand staircase. The house was silent, but then, she heard it—a sound that shouldn't be there.
It was a high-pitched, melodic laugh. It was the sound of a woman who was very comfortable and very happy.
Nicole crept toward the railing and looked down into the foyer. A woman was standing there, handing her fur coat to a bowing servant. She was stunning—tall, with platinum blonde hair styled in a perfect bob and a dress that cost more than Nicole's entire life. She moved with the grace of someone who had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
"Is he in his study?" the woman asked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
"Yes, Miss Victoria," the servant replied. "But Mr. Sterling said he wasn't to be disturbed."
Victoria laughed again, a sharp, cold sound. "He didn't mean me, darling. Alex is always happy to see me. Tell the chef to prepare the Krug. We have much to celebrate."
Nicole watched, breathless, as Victoria walked straight toward Alex's private study—the one room Nicole was strictly forbidden from entering. The "Ghost Rule" clearly didn't apply to this woman.
As Victoria reached the door, she paused. It was as if she felt Nicole's eyes on her. She turned her head slowly, looking up at the balcony. Her blue eyes were like chips of ice. She didn't look surprised to see Nicole; she looked disgusted.
She stared at Nicole's pale face and messy hair for a long beat, then let out a tiny, mocking huff of air and walked into the study, closing the door behind her.
Nicole felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the hormone injections. That was the woman Alex wanted. A socialite. An equal. Not a "pauper" who broke a diamond.
Driven by a sudden, reckless need to know the truth, Nicole crept down the stairs. Her heart was thumping so hard it hurt. She reached the door of the study and pressed her ear against the heavy oak.
"...honestly, Alex," Victoria's voice came through, sounding closer now. "Why go through all this trouble? A common girl from the East End? It's so... messy. You know my father would have agreed to the merger without the theatrics. I could have given you an heir."
"Your father's price was too high, Victoria," Alex's voice was deep and rumbling. He sounded bored. "He wanted a seat on my board. Nicole wanted her freedom. One is a permanent headache. The other is a temporary tool. I chose the cheaper option."
A temporary tool.
Nicole's eyes filled with tears. She wanted to run, but she couldn't move.
"And when she's done?" Victoria asked. "When the 'tool' has served its purpose?"
"She'll be compensated and sent away," Alex said. "She's a ghost in this house, Victoria. She doesn't matter. Now, why are you really here? I'm busy."
"I'm here because the charity gala is in two days," Victoria purred. "You're expected to show off your new 'bride.' The press is dying to see the girl who caught the ice king. I want to make sure she doesn't embarrass us. She needs to look like a Sterling, even if she's just a placeholder."
"Mrs. Gable is handling it," Alex said dismissively.
"I'll handle it," Victoria corrected. "I want to see exactly what ninety-nine million dollars buys these days. Send her to the drawing room."
Nicole panicked. She turned to run back up the stairs, but her legs, weakened by the injections, gave out. She stumbled, her hand hitting a decorative vase on a pedestal. It wobbled and crashed to the marble floor with a sound like a gunshot.
The study door flew open instantly.
Alex stood there, his face darkening into a mask of pure rage. He looked at the shattered vase, then at Nicole, who was crumpled on the floor.
"What did I tell you about the Ghost Rule?" he hissed, his voice vibrating with anger.
Victoria stepped out behind him, a triumphant smirk on her face. She looked down at Nicole like she was a bug on the bottom of her expensive shoe.
"Oh, Alex," Victoria mocked. "Your 'tool' seems to be broken. Perhaps you should have checked the quality before you signed the contract."
The Cliffhanger:
Alex didn't help Nicole up. He stepped over the broken glass and gripped her arm, hauling her to her feet with terrifying strength.
"You want to play the wife, Nicole?" Alex growled, his face inches from hers. "Fine. Victoria is right. There's a gala in forty-eight hours. You're going to stand by my side and pretend to be the happiest woman in London. And if you drop your mask for even one second—if you let anyone see how pathetic you really are—I won't wait for the IVF to fail. I'll throw you out tonight and let the police handle the rest."
He turned to Victoria. "Fix her. I don't care what it costs. Make her look like she belongs to me."
As Alex walked away, Victoria stepped closer to Nicole, the smell of her perfume suffocating. She leaned in and whispered so only Nicole could hear.
"Don't get comfortable in that silk, darling. I know a secret about that diamond you broke. And once I tell Alex, he won't just want his money back. He'll want your life."
What is the secret about the diamond, and can Nicole survive a night in front of the London press with her greatest rival?