The cold hardwood floor chilled Isabella through her thin white robe, but the burning pain in her ribs was far worse. Shattered glass from a heavy crystal vase lay scattered around her knees, glinting sharp under the dim bedroom lighting. She held her hand over her seven-month pregnant stomach, her breath coming in fast, ragged gasps.
Marcus: Isabella, what did you just do?
Marcus stood towering over her in his tailored black suit, his sharp jaw locked tight as he stared down at the mess. Before Isabella could force a single word past her dry throat, the woman in the maroon silk gown fell against Marcus, her eyes wide with fake horror.
Evelyn: Marcus, she attacked me! I came in to bring her tea, and she threw the vase right at my head!
Isabella: That's... that's not what happened...
Evelyn: Look at my dress, Marcus! She screamed that I don't belong in this family, then she lost control!
Isabella tried to push herself up, but a sharp spike of pain shot through her lower back, making her groan softly.
Isabella: Marcus, please... she shoved me into the side table. She broke the vase herself to frame me.
Evelyn: Why would I break your mother's heirloom vase, Isabella? You've hated me since the day I married your father, but to ruin your own mother's memory just to blame me?
Marcus stepped closer, his dark eyes fixed on Isabella with an intense, icy glare that cut deeper than the glass shards near her hands.
Marcus: The camera never lies, Isabella.
Isabella's heart hammered wildly against her ribs as Marcus pulled out his smartphone, tapping the screen with cold, deliberate precision.
Marcus: My head of security just sent the truth.
Tears spilled over Isabella's cheeks, leaving warm tracks against her pale skin as she looked up at her husband, finally sensing the sudden shift in the room.
Isabella: You finally see it...