Elena’s POV

Vanessa was unraveling.

I watched her pace the room, her arms wound tight around herself as if that fragile body of hers was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Her eyes darted to the crib every few seconds, wide and frantic, as though the baby might suddenly vanish into thin air.

The infant had stopped crying hours ago. He slept soundly now, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, completely unaware that his presence had become a wedge between two women whose alliance was stitched together by nothing but spite.

I swirled the wine in my glass, the crimson liquid catching the cheap yellow light of...