Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Anthea
Thin afternoon light spilled across the garden's sea of red and white blooms, cutting through days of cold.
I stood on the garden path, surrounded by white flowers. The air smelled clean and sweet. For the first time in months, I could breathe. Like these flowers had scrubbed all the weight from my lungs.
My hand brushed a white dahlia in full bloom, petals layered like fine silk. In this garden that had only ever grown red roses, the white stood out—wrong, somehow, but alive. Stubborn.
"Olei, look," I whispered to my swollen belly, smiling before I could stop myself. "Daddy planted these for us."
Silas, that man with his cold face, had heard me that morning when the nausea was worst. The next day, the flowers appeared.
To me, they weren't just flowers. They were proof that Silas cared—about me, about this baby. Even if he didn't love me, in that moment I let myself believe I'd carved out some small space in his heart. My chest tightened at the thought.
Two uniformed maids watched me from a distance. Silas had assigned them to make sure nothing happened to the baby. They usually wore the same blank expressions, but today—maybe it was the flowers—even they seemed less cold.
Maybe my future here wouldn't be all darkness. Maybe when the baby came, I could find my place...
"Good afternoon. You must be Anthea." A voice cut through my fantasy.
My spine locked. I turned slowly.
Vanessa, the woman I'd only seen in photos, stood in the gazebo, arms crossed. She wore a camel coat and a champagne dress, all lean grace and long neck, arrogance bred into bone. Next to her, in my loose maternity dress and thick coat, swollen from pregnancy, I looked like a whale.
"Good afternoon," I said politely.
Vanessa didn't look at me. Her eyes swept the garden, brow furrowing.
"Strange," she said softly, confused. "I don't remember white flowers being here before."
She turned to one of the maids. "Martha, what's this about?"
Martha's head dropped. "Miss Zaitseva, Mr. Thorne ordered them. Because Miss Carter likes dahlias, he had them transplanted overnight."
For a split second, I watched Vanessa's perfect mask crack. Jealousy and rage flashed across her face. But she hid it fast—so fast I almost thought I'd imagined it.
"Oh, I see." Vanessa's polite smile returned. She looked at me. "Silas is always so... thoughtful. Making sure you can deliver the baby safely. He's gone to a lot of trouble."
The public humiliation cut deep.
"Come into the gazebo. Standing in the wind isn't good for the baby." Vanessa's concern sounded rehearsed.
I had no right to refuse. I walked toward the gazebo, stopping a few feet from her.
Vanessa acted like she owned the place. She waved Martha over. After whispering something, she sat at the round table with its tea and pastries, legs crossed elegantly.
Martha hesitated, then ran toward the main house. I frowned. What was she doing?
"I don't need to introduce myself, do I? You know who I am." Vanessa smiled, certain.
I didn't answer. She didn't need me to.
"Why are you standing? Sit." She gestured to the chair across from her, making it sound like an invitation when it was clearly an order. "It's cold. I want hot tea. Pour me some."
I froze. A maid stood right there. This wasn't my job. Vanessa was making a point—showing me she was the mistress here. It stung, but I didn't want to fight over something this petty.
Pouring tea wasn't that humiliating.
I walked to the table and lifted the pot. Vanessa rested her chin on her hand, watching me with an amused smile.
"Seven-tenths full. Not too much, not too little," she said.
I ignored her stare and steadied my hands, pouring the steaming red tea into a ceramic cup.
"Done." I set down the pot and looked at her.
"Bring it to me."
I cupped the burning cup in both hands and held it out. Vanessa reached for it. Just as it nearly touched her fingers—
"Oh my God!" she gasped dramatically.
Scalding tea splashed across the back of my hand.
"Ah!" I screamed.
Fire shot through my nerves. My skin turned red, swelling before my eyes. Seconds later, huge translucent blisters rose across my hand, terrifying to look at. My vision went black.
The cup nearly slipped, but I caught it and set it on the table.
This wasn't an accident. No way.
"Anthea, are you okay?" Vanessa's voice was urgent, but she sat perfectly still.
The maid rushed over, panicked. "Miss Carter, your hand!"
"I'm fine." I pulled my hand back, tears burning my eyes, but I forced them down. "Just a splash."
I was trembling, cold sweat breaking out. But instinct told me not to fight with Vanessa. I looked up at her. She was saying all the right things, but her eyes were laughing. She was enjoying this.
"Really okay?" Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Looks pretty bad."
Pain drilled into my bones. I shook my head stiffly.
She waved dismissively at the maid. "All right, if she's fine, leave us. Anthea and I need to talk."
The maid glanced between Vanessa and me, uncertain.
"Go," I said quietly.
I knew if she stayed, it would only get worse for her. She left reluctantly, looking back. Now it was just me and Vanessa.
Vanessa dropped the act. She stood, ignoring the tea, eyes on the swaying flowers.
"I hate these white dahlias. They don't belong with the roses." Her voice was disgusted. "Don't you think?"
"What are you getting at?" I watched her profile warily.
"Relax, sweetheart." She turned to me, voice soft. "I'm just concerned. I heard you're due in a month. Have you thought about where you'll go after?"
"What?" I blinked, hand instinctively covering my belly.
"I mean, once you give birth, you'll leave the manor. Where will you go?" Vanessa looked at me innocently.
My heart clenched. I'd always forced myself not to think about this.
"Anthea, you don't actually think you'll still be in the Thorne heir's life after the baby comes, do you?" She stepped closer.
I backed up until I hit the railing around the lake. Nowhere left to go.
I didn't doubt Vanessa would push me in, even with a Thorne baby in my belly.
"Let me tell you the truth." Vanessa lowered her voice. "The only reason Silas treats you decently is because he needs you happy. Happy mother, healthy baby."
Her words plunged me into ice. Yes, Silas was gentle most of the time. So I'd let myself imagine more. What I feared most was that his tenderness was a lie.
"Once that baby leaves your body, you're done. I'll take over everything. As his future mother, his only mother, I'll teach him to talk, to walk. Every night, I'll be the one holding him. And you, it'll be like you never existed."
Rage erupted in my chest. She wanted to erase me from Olei's life completely.
I pushed her back without thinking, wanting distance from this dangerous woman. But Vanessa grabbed my hand. Her grip was shockingly strong.
"What are you doing?" I stared at her, terrified.
A twisted smile crossed Vanessa's face. Instead of answering, she yanked my hand toward her chest, then threw herself backward toward the lake.
"Ah, no, Anthea!" she shrieked, tumbling over the low railing into the water.
Splash. Water erupted. I stood frozen, staring at my hand suspended in midair, brain empty.
"Anthea, what the fuck are you doing?" A furious voice rang out.
I whipped around. Silas was charging toward me, Martha behind him. He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, like Martha had dragged him here in a hurry. The way he looked at me now was worse than ever.
"Silas," I called his name instinctively, wanting to explain. "It wasn't me..."
"Help! Uh—hel—" Vanessa thrashed in the water.
Silas acted like he hadn't heard me.
He blew past me like a gust of wind. No hesitation. In this freezing weather, he jumped straight into the lake. Water rose to his waist. He scooped up the struggling Vanessa and pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, shivering.
"Silas, the water's so cold..." she sobbed pitifully.
"I've got you. You're okay." Silas's voice was low and solid, soothing. "I'm taking you to the hospital."
Watching Silas hold her so tenderly sent sharp pains through my chest. He carried Vanessa out of the lake in long strides, water soaking his clothes, but he didn't seem to feel the cold. All he cared about was getting her to the manor gates.
"Silas." I finally found my voice, hurrying after him. "It's not what you think. She fell in herself. I didn't push her!"
Silas stopped. For a second, I thought he might believe me. But he didn't turn around. He just waved a hand back.
"Stop her. Take her inside."
Two bodyguards in black appeared from nowhere, blocking me like a wall of muscle.
"Miss Carter, please go back," one said.
"No! Let me through. I need to explain!" I tried to shove past them. They didn't budge.
Through the gap between them, I watched Silas carry Vanessa away. My heart felt like it was being carved up with a knife. The pain was a thousand times, ten thousand times worse than the burn on my hand.
Vanessa rested against Silas's shoulder, wet hair covering half her face. But from an angle Silas couldn't see, she lifted her head. Those eyes that should have been full of fear were ice-cold and mocking. She looked at me, broken and pathetic, and her lips slowly curved into a smile.
I don't remember how I got back to my room. I just remember stumbling through the halls like a ghost.
No doctor. No ointment. No one came to ask, "What happened to your hand?"
I turned on the tap and let cold water rush over the red, blistered skin. Water mixed with tears and disappeared down the drain.
For the next three days, Silas didn't come back to the manor. I learned from the maids' whispers that Vanessa was in a private hospital. And Silas was there with her. Around the clock.
I went to the garden every day. The white dahlias were the only thing that eased the knot in my chest. Just looking at them let me breathe.
Afternoon. A convoy of black cars rolled into the manor, engines rumbling, shattering the quiet.
I stood on the second-floor balcony and watched Silas step out of the first car. He looked tired, but it didn't dull the sharpness he carried. He walked around to the other side, opened the door, and helped Vanessa out like a gentleman.
Vanessa clung to his arm, practically glued to him.
The sight still hurt, but I'd learned to go numb. I started to turn away, not wanting to watch them anymore.
Then noise erupted below. I looked down from the balcony. A team of gardeners carrying shovels and hoes was walking into the garden.
My nerves went taut.
No... A nightmare feeling washed over me. I ran downstairs, protecting my belly, almost gasping from the effort. My heavy body made it hard to breathe.
Silas and Vanessa stood side by side in the gazebo, watching coldly as the gardeners started digging up the dahlias.
"Silas, what is this? Why are you pulling them out?" I still couldn't believe what I was seeing.
The gardeners paused at my voice.
"Vanessa's allergic to dahlia pollen." Silas looked at me, delivering the excuse flatly. "The doctor said these flowers could trigger her asthma. For her health, they have to go."
"Allergic?" I stared at him in disbelief, then at Vanessa beside him. "She was fine in the garden that day. She stayed for so long."
"Anthea, I know you love these flowers... but I really can't breathe." Vanessa sighed, sounding weak. "At the hospital, I couldn't catch my breath for days."
She coughed a few times for effect. Silas immediately looked down at her, worry flashing in his eyes, and pulled her against him.
"Don't talk. You just got out of the hospital. You need rest." His voice was gentle.
My heart sank. I couldn't save these flowers. Just like I could never hold onto Silas.
Sure enough, Silas ordered the gardeners, "Do it."
"No—" I screamed inside, but my body didn't move. I had no right to stop this.
I just stood there and watched the shovels cut down, watched those white flowers ripped from the earth and thrown into black garbage bags. Every shovel strike felt like it was hitting my heart.
These flowers were like my pathetic feelings for Silas—they never should have existed. Too fragile. They were never going to survive the manor's winter.
My legs nearly gave out. As the last dahlia fell, I heard my heart shatter completely.
Silas seemed to notice my silence. He turned and glanced at me. I saw his eyes land on my blistered hand, lingering.
But Vanessa coughed again. Silas pulled his gaze away, wrapped an arm around her, and turned toward the main house.
"It's windy out here. Let's go inside," I heard him say to her.
They left. Just a ruined garden, and me—hollow, trembling in the cold wind.