Chapter 3
Elizabeth's POV
The following evening, Smith Manor was ablaze with light.
I was wearing a nude-colored knitted suit dress. As soon as I walked into the hall, I saw a white figure sitting next to Cleo.
It was Bianca.
She was wearing a high-end, custom-made dress, with delicate light makeup, covering her mouth and chuckling softly, her body swaying slightly.
Aiden sat aside, peeling a grape in his hand, and even got ready to feed it to her mouth.
It really looked like a happy family. This scene made me, the legitimate fiancée who just walked in, seemed like an unnecessary outsider.
Cleo's sharp eyes found me almost immediately, and a cold huff escaped her. "So, you finally decided to show up? Making the elders and our guests wait. You certainly have a high opinion of yourself."
The guests around immediately cast various scrutinizing glances at me.
Bianca rose at once, adopting an attitude of fragile, considerate grace. "Don't be upset with Elizabeth, godmother. The traffic must have been terrible, I'm sure that's why she's late."
She then turned to me, a flicker of challenge glinting in her eyes before it was submerged beneath a mask of near-tears. "Elizabeth, please don't be angry. I insisted that Aiden bring me. Godmother kept saying how much she missed me, so I just wanted to come and see her."
"If you're unhappy about it, I'll leave right now…"
As she spoke, her eyes reddened, and she made a convincing show of turning to depart.
Aiden's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. His brow furrowed as he glared at me, his voice laced with impatience. "Elizabeth, Bianca isn't well. Can't you be a little more generous?"
Cleo punctuated his words by setting her teacup down with a heavy thud. "Leave? Why should you leave? I'd like to see who dares to make you leave today!"
"Let me make things clear. Bianca is the daughter of the Johnson family, and she is the goddaughter I, Cleo Smith, have personally acknowledged."
"As for certain people… already putting on airs before even marrying into the family. One can only imagine what it will be like once she's actually one of us."
A smile, genuine and unforced, touched my lips.
Goddaughter?
It was a fiction they told themselves, a lie they had perhaps even started to believe.
In what world did a godbrother peel grapes to feed to his godsister's waiting mouth?
I walked past them to an empty chair and sat down, gracefully smoothing the fabric of my skirt over my knees. My expression was serene. "You're joking. Since Ms. Johnson is a guest of the Smith family, why would I ever ask her to leave?"
"As long as Ms. Johnson doesn't feel like an outsider herself, I'm quite happy to have one more person to liven things up."
The smile on Bianca's face froze for a fraction of a second.
She had likely not anticipated this reaction from Elizabeth, who, in the past, would have simply swallowed her grievances in silence.
Soon, the dinner began. Servants moved silently through the room, presenting each guest with a delicately steamed bird's nest soup.
Cleo deliberately pushed the largest portion in front of Bianca, her voice dripping with affection. "Bianca, my dear, this was made especially for you. It's excellent for your health. You must eat all of it."
Bianca accepted it with a performance of surprised gratitude. "Thank you, godmother. You're too good to me."
She didn't miss the chance to cast a triumphant glance in my direction.
I lowered my head, stirring the nearly clear broth in my own bowl. A cold, almost invisible smirk touched my lips.
Eat up, I thought, 'Enjoy every last bite. I made a special trip to the kitchen just for you.'
To maintain her image as a refined socialite, Bianca ate with painstaking slowness, savoring each tiny spoonful.
Jessica, seated nearby, couldn't resist a jab. "Some people just have bad luck. Only fit for cheap sweet water. Not like Bianca, who was born to enjoy the finest things."
I ignored her completely.
Just as Bianca finished the last of her soup and was preparing to rise for a toast, the pleasant smile on her face solidified into a mask of horror.
She clutched her stomach, her face draining of all color as a fine sheen of cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
"Bianca, what's wrong?" Aiden was on his feet in an instant, reaching out to steady her.
"My stomach…"
The words were barely out of her mouth before they were cut off by a loud, profoundly indelicate sound that echoed in the suddenly silent dining room.
It was followed swiftly by a potent, foul odor that spread through the air like a noxious cloud.
The atmosphere became instantly, grotesquely still. Guests who had been praising Bianca moments before were now covering their noses and mouths, their faces a canvas of awkward revulsion.
Bianca herself was frozen in place, her face flushing a deep, mortified crimson. She had never been so publicly humiliated in her entire life.
I feigned shock, covering my own nose and mouth. My voice was pitched just loud enough for those nearby to hear clearly. "What's happened to Ms. Johnson? Is it an upset stomach? To be so careless with one's decorum at such an important event…"
Bianca trembled with rage, which only seemed to trigger another, even louder emission.
This time, even Aiden couldn't help but recoil, taking an involuntary step back.
The smell was simply too aggressive.
Jessica, who was closest, let out a small, choked gag. Cleo, who had started to move forward in concern, froze in her tracks, her expression turning to one of utter disgust.
"What are you all standing around for!" Aiden roared, his face dark with fury. "Help Ms. Johnson out of here! Now!"
Bianca, now sobbing, covered her face with her hands and fled the room.
It was a magnificent performance.
I remained seated, savoring the chaos with a profound sense of satisfaction. I would see how the most celebrated socialite of Silverlight City dared to show her face in public after tonight.
The party dissolved quickly after the fiasco.
Claiming I felt unwell, I excused myself and went upstairs. As I passed the study, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Aiden's voice, low and tense, drifted out.
"Bianca, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. It was just an accident, don't take it to heart."
"Aiden, I'll never be able to show my face again," Bianca sobbed, her voice fractured. "And my illness… the doctor said we can't delay any longer."
"Don't worry!" Aiden's voice was resolute, hardened with determination. "I've already arranged everything. In a couple of days, I'll trick Elizabeth into going to the hospital for a check-up. We'll take her straight to the operating room."
"Once she's under anesthesia, whether it's for a bone marrow extraction or something else, she won't have a choice in the matter!"
"But will Elizabeth agree?"
"She doesn't need to agree," Aiden said, his tone chillingly devoid of emotion. "It will be her honor to save your life with hers."
Outside the door, my hand clenched the fabric of my dress so tightly my nails dug into the soft flesh of my palm.
Though I had long suspected the depths of his cruelty, hearing the vile plan articulated so plainly sent a glacial coldness seeping through my entire body.
Without making a sound, I retreated to my room. I changed into a black tracksuit, pulled a baseball cap low over my face, and slipped out through the window, leaving the Smith estate behind.
I was going to the black market. My pregnancy meant that my body's metrics were unsuitable for the surgery they planned. I needed a forged medical report—one that showed I suffered from severe anemia and a blood coagulation disorder.
With that, even if I were forcibly taken to an operating table, no doctor would dare to proceed.
The market was located deep within the slums, a chaotic and dangerous labyrinth of tangled alleys.
I found the forger's den and acquired what I needed.
By the time I emerged from the illicit clinic, night had fallen completely. I tucked the diagnostic report securely inside my jacket and was about to leave when the sound of a violent struggle erupted from deeper within the alley.
My first instinct was to avoid trouble, to turn and walk away. But as I moved, a hand suddenly gripped my ankle.
"Help me…"
I flinched, a jolt of fear shooting through me as I tried to pull free.
In the next second, my eyes adjusted to the dim, distant light, and I saw the insignia on the man's cuff.
A dragon totem.
It was the family crest of the Windsor family.
My eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Was he one of them?
I looked down at the man, who was covered in blood.
A half-mask of silver concealed the upper portion of his face, leaving his well-defined lips and a sharp, angular jaw exposed.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from behind me. "Search! He's badly wounded, he can't have gotten far!"
My heart hammered against my ribs. After a moment of frantic hesitation, I decided to take the risk.
I bent down, using all my strength to haul the man to his feet. I dragged him behind a derelict dumpster, covering him with a piece of tattered canvas.
"Don't make a sound," I whispered.
Moments later, several men in dark clothing rounded the corner. "Did you see an injured man?" one of them demanded.
I summoned a look of pure terror, pointing in the opposite direction. "He… he went that way…"
They didn't seem to doubt me. With a string of curses, they took off in the direction I had indicated. Once they were gone, I sagged against the wall, my body weak with relief, gasping for air.
The man had regained some consciousness. His deep-set eyes were fixed on me, blazing with a murderous intensity.
"Who are you?"
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to remain calm. "I'm the person who just saved your life."