A gurney rushed past, wheels shrieking. Medics crowded around it. On top lay Asher—pale, clutching his stomach, crying in sharp, piercing sobs. Marina hovered beside him, shrill and frantic, screaming for help. Dominic followed, barking orders, panic twisting his face.
Then he saw me.
He broke away and seized my arm, fingers crushing bone.
“Vivienne!” His hand flew before I could react. The slap split across my face, blinding and hot.
“How dare you,” he snarled, grip tightening. “You ordered one of the maids to poison Asher’s food last night. Did you really think you could murder my son and escape punishment? You disgusting bitch.”
My cheek burned. My chest burned worse.
I swallowed the scream clawing up my throat. No denial left my lips—I knew it wouldn’t matter. Dominic had already decided what to believe.
Asher cried louder. “Dad… Dad!”
Dominic released me and ran after the gurney, chasing the child he adored. Over his shoulder, he threw one last sentence that sliced me open.
“We’re not done talking.”
Marina passed by moments later, her perfume thick and suffocating. Her lips curved ever so slightly.
Calm. Satisfied.
That was all the proof I needed.