Emma's Point of View
The sound of a spoon clinking against porcelain banged loud in the dining room. My stepmother, Regina, sat across from me, her perfectly manicured nails tapping rhythmically on the table. Her sharp green eyes scanned me like a predator stalking its prey.
"Tell me, Emma," she said, her voice deceptively sweet, "what exactly do you plan to do with your life now?"
I hesitated, gripping the edge of my chair. "I'm figuring things out."
She let out a soft laugh, one that sent chills down my spine. "Figuring things out? That's not good enough. Your father didn't work his entire life for you to become—" she paused, her lips curling into a smirk—"a burden."
I clenched my fists under the table, willing myself not to react. Regina always had a way of digging under my skin, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"I have a plan," I said firmly, meeting her gaze.
"Oh?" she arched a perfectly shaped brow. "And does this plan involve the father of your child? Or are you planning to raise it alone, like some cheap soap opera character?"
The air in the room grew heavy, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Ethan and I got married," I said quietly.
Regina froze for a moment, her spoon hovering mid-air. Then she laughed—a cold, cruel sound. "Married? To Ethan? The billionaire?" She leaned forward, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You expect me to believe that a man like him would marry a girl like you?"
"It's true," I replied, my voice steady. "We signed the papers yesterday."
Her laughter died, replaced by an icy stare. "Why would he do that? What does he want from you?"
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "It's complicated."
Regina's lips curled into a sneer. "Of course it is. Let me guess—he's using you. That's the only reason a man like Ethan would marry someone like you."
Her words stung, but I refused to let her see it. "He wants to support the baby," I said simply.
Regina leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. "If you think this marriage will solve all your problems, you're more naive than I thought."
"I'm not naive," I snapped, unable to keep my anger in check. "I'm doing what I have to do for my child."
She smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see how long this little arrangement lasts. Men like Ethan don't stay tied down for long."
---
Later That Evening
I stood in the kitchen, washing the few dishes we had used for dinner. Regina had left hours ago, but her words lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
As I placed the last plate on the drying rack, my phone buzzed on the counter. It was a message from Ethan.
**Be ready tomorrow morning. My driver will pick you up at eight.**
I stared at the message, feeling a mix of dread and curiosity. What did he want now?
The sleek black car pulled up in front of my apartment at exactly eight o'clock. The driver, a middle-aged man with a stiff posture, stepped out and opened the door for me.
"Mrs. Ethan," he said with a polite nod.
The title felt foreign, almost surreal. I climbed into the car without a word, the leather seats cool against my skin.
The drive was silent. When we arrived at Ethan's estate, I couldn't help but feel out of place. The mansion loomed ahead, its grand façade both beautiful and intimidating.
Ethan was waiting for me in the living room, his expression unreadable.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble.
I crossed my arms, trying to match his intensity. "What kind of problem?"
"Your stepmother," he replied, his tone clipped. "She called me this morning."
My stomach twisted. "What? Why?"
"She wanted to discuss our 'arrangement,'" he said, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Apparently, she's very concerned about your well-being."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Concerned? She doesn't care about me. She's only interested in what she can gain."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly does she want?"
I hesitated, unsure how much to tell him. "Money," I said finally. "That's all she ever cares about."
He nodded, his expression hardening. "I figured as much. She hinted that she might go to the press if I don't 'compensate' her."
My breath caught. "The press? She wouldn't—"
"She would," Ethan interrupted, his voice cold. "And I won't let her. If she goes public, it'll ruin everything."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He studied me for a moment before answering. "Talk to her. Make her understand that if she tries anything, it won't end well for her."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "And if she doesn't listen?"
Ethan's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint in them. "Then I'll handle it my way."
---
Emma's Point of View
Regina was waiting for me when I arrived at her townhouse. She opened the door with a smug smile, clearly expecting me.
"Well, look who it is," she said, stepping aside to let me in. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"We need to talk," I said, my voice firm.
She raised an eyebrow but led me into the living room. "By all means, talk."
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Stay out of my marriage, Regina. Whatever you think you're going to gain from meddling, it's not worth it."
Her smile widened, and she leaned back in her chair. "Is that so? And why should I listen to you?"
"Because Ethan won't tolerate it," I said bluntly. "If you push him, he'll push back. Hard."
Regina laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "Do you really think I'm afraid of him? He's just a man, Emma. A very rich man, yes, but still just a man."
"You don't know him," I said, my voice low. "He doesn't make idle threats."
She studied me for a moment, her expression calculating. "And what about you, Emma? Are you really willing to play the dutiful wife just to keep him happy?"
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. "This isn't about me. It's about keeping the peace."
Regina smirked, clearly unimpressed. "You've always been so predictable, Emma. Always doing what's expected, never taking risks. But let me give you some advice—men like Ethan don't stay loyal. Not to women like you."
Her words stung, but I refused to let her see it. "I don't need your advice," I said sharply. "Just stay out of my life."
She leaned forward, her green eyes gleaming. "You're in over your head, Emma. But if you think you can handle it, by all means, try. Just don't come crying to me when it all falls apart."
I stood, my hands trembling. "This conversation is over."
Regina's laughter followed me as I left, her voice replaying in my ears. "Good luck, darling. You're going to need it."
---
Ethan's Point of View
When Emma returned to the estate, her face was pale, her expression grim. She didn't say a word as she walked past me, heading toward her room.
I followed her, my patience wearing thin. "Well? Did you talk to her?"
"Yes," she said without looking at me.
"And?"
"She won't back down," Emma admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swore under my breath, my frustration boiling over. "Then I'll deal with her myself."
Emma turned to face me, her eyes blazing. "No. I'll handle it."
"You've had your chance," I said coldly. "Now it's my turn."
She stepped closer, her voice fierce. "If you hurt her, I'll never forgive you."
I met her gaze, unflinching. "And if she ruins everything, I'll never forgive you."
The room fell silent. Finally, Emma looked away, her shoulders slumping.
"Do whatever you have to do," she said quietly. "Just don't make it worse."
I nodded, my mind already filled with my evil plans. Regina had made a mistake crossing me, and she was about to find out just how dangerous I could be.