Jade’s POV
The words don’t register at first.
“You are going to tell everyone that it doesn’t belong to your mates.”
I stare at Linda, waiting for the punchline.
It doesn’t co.
The smile on her face is soft. Pleasant.
Completely serious.
My voice cos out low, steadier than I feel.
“Why would I ever do that?”
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate. She just tilts her head slightly, like I’ve asked sothing amusing.
“Because,” she says calmly, “it’s the smartest thing you could possibly do.”
My heartbeat begins to pound in my ears.
She doesn’t look like she is joking.
She isn’t emotional.
She isn’t angry.
She’s planned this this
I take one slow step back, refusing to let my fear show.
“You’ve lost your mind,” I say quietly.
Linda exhales a soft laugh. “No, Jade. I’ve just been thinking ahead.”
She begins to move, slowly circling my room like she belongs here, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of my dresser.
“You don’t have the kind of reputation that survives scandal,” she says conversationally. “No one truly likes you around here. You know that, right?”
I don’t answer.
She continues anyway.
“If Alpha Ashford actually sees a chance to disregard you, he would.”
My jaw tightens.
“They’ll believe whatever I say without thinking twice,” she adds smoothly. “Your words don’t matter. They never do.”
Each sentence lands like a quiet slap.
And the worst part?
She isn’t entirely wrong.
I feel the manipulation settling in like cold water seeping into my bones. She isn’t shouting. She isn’t threatening outright.
She’s stating facts.
That’s worse.
“I’m not doing anything for you,” I say firmly.
Her eyes flick to mine, and sothing shifts in them.
The sweetness thins.
“You might want to reconsider,” she replies softly.
The tone changes.
The air changes with it.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “No.”
She stops pacing.
For a mont, the room goes very still.
Then she smiles again, but it’s different now. Sharper.
“You know accidents happen, Jade.”
My stomach drops.
She says it casually.
Like she’s comnting on the weather.
“Like falling down the stairs.”
The room goes cold.
My breath catches in my throat.
The stable flashes in my mind.
My mother’s lifeless body on the ground.
The Alpha standing outside his car
“She fell down the stairs while serving Linda.”
The mory slams into so violently my knees almost buckle.
Linda watches my reaction closely.
“There are so many unfortunate ways a person can get hurt,” she continues lightly. “Especially in a house this big.”
My fingers curl into fists.
“You’re disgusting,” I whisper.
She shrugs. “I’m realistic.”
She steps closer, her voice lowering until it’s barely above a whisper.
“If you don’t confess to cheating,” she says, “sothing unfortunate could happen.”
My pulse roars in my ears.
“Maybe you slip down the stairs against, just like your mother” she continues. “Maybe a fire suddenly starts in your room while you’re asleep.”
My breathing turns shallow.
“And maybe,” she says softly, “the fire would consu you and you won’t survive it"
I feel like I’ve been shoved underwater.
But then she delivers the final blow.
“And it would be such a sha,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping pointedly to my stomach, “if the baby didn’t survive either.”
Everything inside changes.
My hand moves instinctively.
It presses against my stomach without even thinking about it.
Until this mont, the pregnancy felt unreal. Abstract. Sothing that happened to .
Now....
It feels fragile.
Vulnerable.
Mine.
A rush of rage floods through so intense I nearly lunge at her.
“How dare you....” My voice breaks with fury.
She doesn’t step back.
Doesn’t flinch.
She knows I won’t touch her.
Because if I do?
I’ll be the unstable one.
The hysterical one.
The violent one.
And she’ll be the victim.
I rember the stable again.
I rember how easily my mother’s death was explained away.
How easily everyone accepted it.
I rember Lisa.
How my words ant nothing.
No proof.
No witnesses.
Just .
It would be my word against hers.
And history has already proven how that ends.
“If you touch ....” I start, my voice trembling despite my effort to control it.
“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll lose yourself and your dear baby” she interrupts smoothly.
She’s calm.
Goddess, she’s so calm.
“You have ti to think about it,” she continues. “I’m not unreasonable.”
I laugh bitterly. “You just threatened to kill .”
She waves a hand dismissively. “I’m reminding you that things can happen.”
I feel sick.
“What exactly do you want?” I demand.
Her eyes gleam.
“I want you to tell everyone that you cheated,” she says plainly. “That the baby isn’t theirs.”
My chest tightens painfully.
“And you’ll do it publicly,” she adds. “In front of them. In front of Alpha Ashford.”
I shake my head slowly. “You want them to hate .”
“I want you out of the way.”
She steps even closer, so close I can feel the warmth of her breath against my cheek.
“If you love it,” she whispers, her voice dropping into sothing intimate and deadly, “you’ll protect it.”
The words sink in slowly.
If you love it.
You’ll protect it.
Sacrifice your reputation.
Destroy your bond.
Let them believe you betrayed them.
Let them reject you.
But keep the baby alive.
She fras it like a choice.
But it isn’t a choice.
It’s extortion.
I swallow hard.
“You’re asking to destroy everything.”
She smiles gently. “I’m asking you to prioritize your baby”
My breathing turns uneven.
Downstairs, faint laughter drifts up from the celebration.
They’re still celebrating.
They have no idea what’s happening up here.
“I expect an answer soon, you have two days to decide” Linda says, straightening her posture. “Don’t take too long. The longer you wait, the more... unpredictable things beco.”
My hand presses more firmly against my stomach.
“I won’t let you hurt my child,” I whisper.
She studies for a long mont.
Then she smooths her dress, regains that pleasant expression, and says lightly, “Congratulations again, Jade.”
And just like that..
She walks out.
Calm.
Composed.
As if she didn’t just threaten my life.
As if she didn’t just threaten my baby.
The door clicks shut behind her.
Silence floods the room.
My legs give out.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my breathing shaky, hands trembling uncontrollably.
I press my palm fully against my stomach now.
The gesture feels different.
Protective.
Terrified.
Angry tears spill down my cheeks, not soft grief tears.
Hot ones.
Furious ones.
“I won’t let her,” I whisper fiercely. “I won’t let her hurt you.”
But beneath the anger, beneath the defiance...
There’s fear.
Because she believes she can get away with it.
And that ans she probably can.
I look toward the door.
Downstairs, the people who are supposed to protect are laughing.
Celebrating.
Unaware that I’ve just been given a choice between my dignity and my child’s safety.
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