● CHAPTER 4: Marble Does Not Forgive
Emma remembered the railing flashing past her fingers.
She remembered trying to twist her body so her belly would not strike first.
She remembered the chandelier spinning above her like a field of broken stars.
Then the marble took her.
Pain burst through her shoulder, hip, cheek, ribs. Her breath vanished. The child inside her moved once, a frightened flutter that made Emma more terrified than anything that had happened to her own body.
"No," she whispered into the floor. "No, no, no."
From somewhere above, Margaret exhaled.
Not a gasp. Not a cry.
A breath of relief.
Emma opened one eye. The foyer swam in white and gold. She saw Margaret standing at the top of the steps, one hand pressed to her chest, arranging her face into concern as footsteps approached from the service hallway.
"Mrs. Blackwell?" one of the maids called.
Margaret's voice changed instantly. "Call Daniel. Tell him Emma fell."
Fell.
The word lodged in Emma's throat.
She tried to speak, but pain folded her in half. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach. The baby shifted again, weaker this time or perhaps Emma's fear made it feel that way.
"Please," Emma said, but the word barely left her mouth.
The staff gathered at a distance. They wanted to help. She could see it in their faces. But Margaret had trained fear into that house. A housekeeper named Lena took one step forward, then stopped when Margaret looked at her.
"No one touches her until Dr. Harlan arrives," Margaret ordered.
Lena's eyes filled. "Ma'am, she needs an ambulance."
"She needs privacy."
Emma tried to lift her head. A sharp line of pain crossed her cheek, and she tasted blood.
"Hospital," she breathed.
Margaret descended the stairs slowly now, every movement controlled.
She crouched near Emma, far enough that her dress would not touch the floor. Her voice lowered so only Emma could hear.
"You should have signed."
Emma stared at her.
In that moment, the child inside her kicked.
Small. Defiant.
Emma closed her eyes and held on to that movement like a prayer.
Then the front doors opened.
Daniel's voice came first.
"Emma?"
There are sounds that split a life into before and after. For Daniel, it was the way his wife's name left his own mouth. It did not sound like a call. It sounded like something being ripped out of him.
He ran to her and dropped so hard to his knees that one of the servants flinched.
"Who did this?" he asked.
No one answered.
Margaret said from the stairs, "She fell."
Daniel did not look at her.
He looked at Emma, at the angle of her body, at the bruising beginning to rise beneath her skin, at the way she kept one hand over their child with desperate, shaking fingers.
"Emma," he said. "Tell me."
Her lips parted.
Margaret's voice sliced through the room. "She is confused."
Daniel's head lifted.
It was not anger yet.
May you like
It was something colder.
"Mother," he said, "step away from my wife."
