While My Husband Cheated, I Married His Powerful Brother

The slap came out of nowhere.

Veyra did not see it coming. One moment she was standing in the doorway, facing Eleanor’s accusations. The next moment, a hand connected with her cheek so hard her head snapped sideways.

Her ears rang. Her vision blurred. She tasted copper.

Beatrice Hawthorne stood in front of her. Lily’s biological grandmother. Her hand was still raised. Her face was twisted with grief and fury.

"You," Beatrice said. Her voice was shaking. "You lost her. My granddaughter. My little girl. You took her out and you lost her."

Veyra touched her lip. Her fingers came away red.

"I’m sorry," Veyra said. "I didn’t mean for—"

"Sorry?" Beatrice’s voice rose. "Sorry doesn’t bring her back. Sorry doesn’t tell me where she is. Sorry doesn’t tell me if she’s scared or hurt or—"

She could not finish the sentence. Her face crumpled. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Veyra’s own cheek was throbbing. The cut on her lip was small but deep. Blood dripped slowly down her chin.

She looked at Beatrice. At the grief on her face. At the tears.

She did not defend herself. She did not explain. She stood there and took it because Beatrice was right. Lily was gone. And it was her fault.

Beatrice turned away. Her shoulders shook. Harold Thorne put his arm around her. His face was hard.

Veyra stood alone in the middle of the room. Her lip was bleeding. Her cheek was red. Her eyes were dry.

She thought about the night she had married Dorian. The courthouse. The seven-minute ceremony. The marriage certificate she had signed without reading it.

She had married a stranger. A man she did not know. A man whose family hated her.

She had thought she could handle it. She had thought she could endure the accusations and the slaps and the whispered insults.

But standing here, bleeding, surrounded by people who blamed her for something she had not done—

She wondered if she had made a mistake.

Eleanor’s voice cut through the room.

"It’s exactly as I said." She stepped forward. Her arms were crossed. Her smile was sharp. "She was too busy meeting her ex-boyfriend to watch the child. She used Little Lily as cover. A prop. Something to make her look respectable while she went off to rendezvous with her lover."

Veyra turned to look at her. "That’s not what happened."

"No?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Then explain it. Explain why you took **little Lily** to a café in the middle of the day. Explain why your ex-boyfriend just happened to show up at the same café. Explain why you were holding hands with him while my niece was being kidnapped."

"We weren’t holding hands. He was reaching for me. I was pulling away."

"It didn’t look that way in the photograph."

"The photograph was one moment. One second. Frozen out of context."

Eleanor laughed. "Context. That’s rich. A woman like you doesn’t get to hide behind context."

Beatrice spoke from across the room. Her voice was raw. "Is it true? Were you meeting your ex-boyfriend?"

Veyra shook her head. "No. I was meeting Dr. Harrison. About my medical formula. The Old Madam gave me permission to take Lily."

"The Old Madam didn’t give you permission to lose her."

Veyra had no answer for that.

Phillip Thorne stepped forward. His face was red. His voice was loud.

"This is what happens when you let strangers into the family," he said. He pointed at Veyra. "She has no loyalty. No morals. She’s carrying a child that might not even be my nephew’s. And now she’s cost us Little Lily."

Harold nodded from beside Beatrice. "She’s depraved. Completely depraved. Meeting her ex-boyfriend while supposedly watching a child. Using that child as a cover for her affair."

Veyra’s hands curled into fists. But she did not speak. She had learned that speaking did no good. They had already decided. They had already judged. Nothing she said would change their minds.

Eleanor walked to the Old Madam’s wheelchair. She bent down. Her voice was low and conspiratorial.

"Auntie," she said, "I’ve been thinking. What if this wasn’t an accident? What if it was planned?"

The Old Madam’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"What if Veyra and her ex-boyfriend conspired together? What if they arranged for Little Lily to be kidnapped? What if they’re working together to extort money from the family?"

The room went quiet.

"That’s ridiculous," Veyra said.

Eleanor ignored her. She kept her eyes on the Old Madam. "Think about it. She shows up out of nowhere. She marries Dorian. She gets pregnant. She gains access to the family. And then, the first time she’s alone with Little Lily, the child disappears."

Phillip nodded. "It makes sense. She’s an outsider. She has no loyalty to this family. She would sell us all out for the right price."

"She’s already sold us out," Eleanor said. "She’s been playing us from the beginning."

The Old Madam’s face was unreadable. She looked at Veyra. Her eyes were cold.

"Is this true?" the Old Madam asked. "Did you conspire with your ex-husband to kidnap my great-granddaughter?"

Veyra stared at her. At the woman whose life she had saved, at the woman who was now looking at her like she was a criminal.

"No," Veyra said. "It’s not true. I would never do that. I would never hurt Lily."

"You’ve already hurt her," Eleanor said. "You lost her."

"I lost her because I was distracted. Because Caspian showed up and wouldn’t leave me alone. Because a crowd of people appeared out of nowhere and separated us." Veyra’s voice was rising. "But I did not plan this. I did not conspire with anyone. And I am not working with Caspian to extort money from this family."

The Old Madam said nothing.

"You want to blame someone?" Veyra looked around the room. At Eleanor. At Phillip. At Harold and Beatrice. At Celeste and Marcus. "Blame the person who told the kidnappers where to find us."

The room went silent.

Veyra’s mind was racing.

She thought about the timeline. The decision to meet Dr. Harrison at the Savina Café had been made on the spur of the moment. She had called him from her room. She had not told anyone except Lily.

And yet, the kidnappers had known exactly where to find them. They had been waiting. The crowd had appeared at exactly the right moment. The man in the hat and mask had moved through the chaos like he had rehearsed it.

Someone had told them.

Someone inside the family.

Veyra looked at Eleanor. At her smug smile. At the satisfaction in her eyes.

"You knew," Veyra said.

Eleanor’s smile flickered. "Excuse me?"

"You knew we were going to be at that café. You knew what time. You knew who would be there. You told someone. You arranged this."

Eleanor’s face went red. "That’s insane."

"Is it?" Veyra stepped closer. "I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I didn’t post anything on social media. I didn’t talk to anyone except Lily. And yet the kidnappers were waiting for us. They knew exactly when and where to strike."

Eleanor shook her head. "You’re grasping at straws."

"I’m not grasping at anything. I’m looking at the facts. Someone in this family tipped them off. And the only person in this room who has wanted me gone from day one is you."

The room murmured.

Eleanor’s composure cracked. "You can’t prove anything."

"I don’t need to prove it. I just need to say it out loud." Veyra turned to face the rest of the family. "Eleanor has been against me from the moment I walked through the door. She called me a liar. A fraud. A nobody. She bet against me. She lost. And now she’s using Lily’s disappearance to get rid of me."

"That’s absurd—"

"Is it? You were the first to accuse me. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t wait for evidence. You just pointed your finger and started screaming. Because you wanted everyone to believe I was guilty."

Eleanor’s face was pale now. Her hands were shaking.

"You’re the one who’s crying thief while being the thief yourself," Veyra said. "You did this. You planned this."

The room erupted.