Evelyn drew a sharp breath, her forehead creasing with tension.

"From my perspective, we have no real quarrel. We exist in entirely separate spheres. Why resort to such drastic measures against me?"

Amelia remained silent.

But Evelyn didn't miss the flash of pure envy that crossed the other woman's impeccably made-up face.

Why? Amelia possessed everything—prestige, immense wealth, the undisputed status of a Sterling. What motive could she possibly have for tormenting a simple designer?

"Silence!" Amelia's voice cracked through the air like a whip. She spun around and shoved Evelyn violently.

Evelyn gasped, caught completely off guard. Her body was thrown sideways.

Pure, unadulterated panic surged through her, obliterating all other thought. Protect the baby.

Instinct took command. She twisted her body mid-fall, one arm flying to shield her abdomen while her foot scrambled for purchase against the wall's corner.

A sharp, burning pain erupted in her wrist and ankle. The color drained from her face.

Simultaneously, her shoulder collided with a metal shelving unit. The loud, jarring crash reverberated through the confined storage room.

Even Miriam froze in shock. She hadn't anticipated Amelia would become physically aggressive so abruptly.

For a fleeting second, her hand jerked forward as if to assist Evelyn. But she checked the impulse.

Sympathy for Evelyn was a luxury she could not afford.

Agony radiated through Evelyn's frame. A cold sweat broke out on her brow as she slid weakly to the cold floor. A trembling hand rose to touch her throbbing shoulder.

It hurt. Every part of her screamed in pain, except for one crucial area. Her abdomen felt undisturbed.

Amelia stood over her, eyes gleaming with anything but regret. If anything, she looked satisfied.

Had she known how gratifying it would feel to put Evelyn in her place, she would have acted sooner.

After all, the founder of Aethelgard Industries clearly held no affection for his so-called wife.

And as a daughter of the powerful Sterling family, she had every right to discipline a common upstart. The thought sent a thrill of pleasure through her. An involuntary, cruel smirk touched her lips.

She released a theatrical sigh, shaking her head in mock pity. "Oh, my. Look at you. How utterly pathetic."

10:56

The sharp, precise click of Amelia's heels echoed menacingly in the cramped space. Each step felt like a weight pressing down on Evelyn's chest.

Amelia's gaze dropped to Evelyn's trembling hand.

"Why is your hand shaking?" Amelia's tone feigned concern, but her voice was utterly devoid of warmth. "Did you sprain it? Or perhaps you hit it on something?" Without a moment's hesitation, she lifted her foot and pressed the ridged sole of her expensive designer shoe onto Evelyn's injured hand. Then she applied pressure, grinding down.

"Ah!" A ragged cry was torn from Evelyn's throat. The pain was excruciating, like white-hot lightning. Desperately, she tried to push the elegant heel away. "Get off!"

Searing agony shot up her arm. Her breathing became sharp, ragged gasps.

Her face was drenched in cold sweat within seconds.

The veins in her neck stood out against her pale skin as she strained against the crushing weight. Amelia did not yield.

Tears welled in Evelyn's eyes. Not from weakness. From sheer, overwhelming pain.

Miriam watched from across the room, her own heart hammering against her ribs.