Allison Blake burst into the sprawling villa like a storm, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floors. Her hair, usually neat and glossy, was a wild mess, and her sharp eyes blazed with a mix of fury and heartbreak. The grand chandelier above her cast its light over the gaudy decor, all velvet curtains and gold accents—a shrine to nouveau riche excess. It was fitting, really. This house wasn't a home; it was a stage, and Allison was about to give the performance of her life.
In the sitting room, lounging on a silk-upholstered chaise like an expensive but nevertheless gaudy sphynx cat, was Veronica Blake—Allison's stepmother. A lacquered manicure tapped idly against a crystal goblet of red wine, her lips curling into a smile that didn't bother pretending to be sweet.
Next to her, perched like an obedient parrot, was Allison's step-sister, Madison. The horrible girl was draped in designer clothes and wearing an expression that could only be described as dumb smugness.
"Well, if it isn't the little graduate," Veronica drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. "How does it feel to step into the real world, Allison? Oh, wait—I suppose you've been a bit distracted with... other matters." Her gaze flicked to Allison's stomach, flat now but not so long ago round with the child she'd brought into the world.
Allison's lips curled into a brittle smile. "Oh, it's been wonderful, Stepmother. But I've been meaning to ask—what's it like selling something that doesn't belong to you? Do you haggle, or are you more of a 'take the first offer' kind of woman?"
Veronica's smile tightened, her polished veneer cracking for a brief moment before she smoothed it over with a laugh.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. But I'd watch that sharp tongue of yours. It's unbecoming of a young woman—especially one who's already brought so much shame to this family."
"Shame?" Allison's voice rose, her anger cutting through the air like a blade. "You stole my baby! My son!" Her voice cracked, but she powered through, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. "You sold him like he was... like he was some kind of luxury handbag! Where is he?"
"Sold?" Yinyin echoed, her eyes widening in theatrical innocence. "Oh, sister, you make it sound so crude. Mother just ensured the baby went to someone who could provide for him. I mean, really, could you? What kind of life would he have with a... penniless little slacker?"
"You're not even original with your insults, Yinyin," Allison shot back, her gaze raking over her step-sister's outfit. It was clearly something she had swiped from Allison's cupboard, the clothing beautiful, but slightly ill fitting.
After all, Yinyin lacked Allison's, well, assets...
Yinyin gasped, her cheeks flushing red. "How dare you—"
"Enough," Veronica Blake interrupted, her voice sharp. She set her wine glass down with deliberate precision and rose to her feet. Even in her mid-forties, she was a striking woman, her beauty cold and calculated. "Let's not pretend this is about the baby, Allison. This is about you being an embarrassment to this family."
Allison's laugh was bitter and humorless. "An embarrassment? Is that what you call graduating at the top of my class from the best university in the country? Or is it because I didn't ask for your permission before having a life?"
"You're an embarrassment because you've squandered every opportunity given to you," a gruff voice boomed from the doorway.
Allison's father, Charles Blake, strode into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. His suit was tailored to perfection, but the man himself was all sharp edges and disapproval. "Pregnant out of wedlock, fraternizing with lowlifes—do you have any idea what that's done to my reputation?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Allison said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize my personal life was a PR campaign for you. Maybe next time I'll consult your publicist before making any decisions."
"Watch your tone, young lady," Charles snapped. "I've tolerated your insolence for far too long."
"Tolerated?" Allison's voice cracked with incredulous laughter. "You let her"—she pointed a trembling finger at Veronica Blake—"steal my baby, and you think you've been tolerating me?"
Charles Blake's expression didn't waver. "That child was a mistake, Allison. One you weren't prepared to handle. Your stepmother did what was necessary."
"Necessary?" Allison's voice rose to a shriek. "How is ripping a baby away from his mother necessary? Or was it just convenient? Tell me, how much was he worth? Enough to buy another tacky chandelier for this mausoleum you call a house?"
Veronica's smile returned, sharper than ever. "If you must know, the arrangement was... lucrative. And don't look so surprised, dear. You should've known better than to bring a child into this world without a plan. But don't worry—he's in good hands. Better hands than yours, I'd wager."
Charles Blake gave Allison a dismissive nod, "The Carters will take good care of the child. I hope you know better than to try to go against them."
Allison's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to tear down the walls around her. Instead, she took a shaky breath and straightened her posture, her cunning slipping into place like a mask.
"You're right," she said, her voice eerily calm. "I should've known better."
She turned on her heel, her exit as dramatic as her entrance. But as she reached the door, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.
"Enjoy your blood money while it lasts," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "Because when I come back, I'll take everything you care about. And unlike you, I'll make sure it hurts."