Taking Back What's Hers

Before Callista could take a single step toward the door, Eleanor thrust her manicured finger inches from Callista’s nose, her diamond rings catching the ambient light. Her shrill voice bounced off the high parlor walls, dripping with unadulterated venom. "Do you think you are somehow better than the rest of the Vance family? You are here to provide this dynasty with a male heir. Do not dare cast blame on anyone else for the pathetic failure of your own useless womb."

Callista stood her ground in the center of the expansive room, her spine straight despite the verbal lashing. The insult stung, a cruel reminder of the impossible standards she faced daily. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to maintain her composure. She drew a steady breath, a sharp and cutting retort ready on her tongue to strike back at the matriarch's constant abuse. Before she could form the first syllable, a heavy thud echoed through the space. The grand mahogany doors of the parlor swung open.

Dominic strode into the room. His bespoke charcoal suit looked unusually rumpled, bearing the creases of his unexpected international travel. The faint scent of jet fuel and his signature cedar cologne drifted into the tense parlor air, dominating the room instantly.

Spotting her son, Eleanor did not miss a beat. She whirled around and snatched the forged medical report straight from the glass coffee table. The bold, clinical letters citing Callista's permanent infertility flashed under the crystal chandelier. Eleanor flung the stack of papers right at Dominic's broad chest. The thick sheets hit his lapel with a sharp smack.

"Look at the defective woman you married," Eleanor spat. She swept past him and stormed out of the room in a storm of aristocratic fury, her expensive heels clicking against the polished marble floors until she vanished down the hall.

Dominic caught the fluttering pages mid-air before they could scatter across the rug. He lowered his head, his dark eyes scanning the dense clinical text. A tense silence stretched through the parlor, thick enough to cut with a knife. Slowly, his gaze lifted from the damning words to meet Callista’s steady stare. The look he gave his wife held a terrifying void. There was no trace of warmth. There was no shred of sympathy to be found in his deep brown eyes.

"You will return to the hospital tomorrow morning for a full, invasive medical work-up. I will not tolerate having a wife who cannot provide me with an heir." His tone was chillingly flat, delivering a cold demand rather than opening a discussion.

A deep, hollow ache spread through Callista's chest, tightening her lungs. Any foolish, lingering shred of hope she had clung to regarding his basic humanity faded into nothingness. To him, her entire worth was reduced to her reproductive organs. She was just a vessel to secure the Vance legacy.

She reached into her leather handbag and pulled out a fresh, crisp stack of legal documents. She held them out toward him, keeping her arm rigid. Her voice remained steady, refusing to crack under the immense weight of his rejection.

"I have the divorce papers right here. Just sign your name on the dotted line, and you will never have to look at me again."

Instead of reaching out to take the papers, Dominic’s eyes flared with sudden, possessive rage. The air in the room shifted. He closed the distance between them in a flash. His large hand clamped rough and hard around the delicate skin of her throat. He pulled her dangerously close. His grip was tight, threatening to leave bruises on her pale skin. His hot breath washed over her face as he sneered down at her.

"Where exactly do you think a woman like you is going to go without my money and my protection?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a threatening, low octave that sent a chill down her spine.

Having made his brutal point, he let go with a dismissive shove, treating her with raw contempt. Callista stumbled back, her heels catching on the edge of the woven rug. She caught her balance just before hitting the floor, her chest heaving as she sucked in air.

"Go to the kitchen and make me dinner," Dominic ordered callously, turning his broad back to her without a second glance.

Callista sank heavily onto the plush cushions of the nearby sofa. She brought a trembling hand up to massage the throbbing pain blossoming in her neck, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.

From across the room, Bianca glided forward and slid her arm smoothly through Dominic's, pressing her chest against his bicep. A soft, dismissive giggle escaped her glossed lips as she looked over at Callista.

"Oh, Dominic, just ignore Callista’s little dramatic scene. It is just a pathetic cry for your attention," Bianca purred, casting a mocking glance at the woman rubbing her bruised throat.

Dominic's stern, furious expression instantly melted into a pool of gentle warmth the moment he looked down at his first love. "How are you feeling today?" he asked softly, his demeanor shifting from a monster to a devoted caretaker in the blink of an eye.

"A bit tired," Bianca sighed, leaning her weight heavily against his side to play the fragile victim perfectly.

"I packed those imported candies you love in my travel suitcase. Go ahead and dig them out," Dominic told her. He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, turned his back on Callista’s presence, and headed up the grand staircase to take a shower.

Bianca dropped eagerly to her knees beside the designer luggage resting by the entryway. She unzipped the expensive leather bag, humming a cheerful tune. Her manicured hands rummaged through the neatly folded dress shirts until she unearthed an elegant, deep red velvet jewelry box.

She popped the lid open. A breathtaking, rare pink diamond necklace caught the light, scattering bright, colorful prisms across the parlor walls.

Callista’s breath hitched in her throat. She recognized the piece in a heartbeat. It was an exclusive, one-of-a-kind design from Melaria. Dominic had promised to buy that exact necklace for her to celebrate their upcoming anniversary. The sight of the massive stone nestled in the velvet should have shattered her heart, but the betrayal only fueled her cold clarity.

Bianca lifted the glittering jewels from the box with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She stood up and turned to face Callista. A malicious smirk stretched across her face as she clasped the cold diamonds around her own neck.

"Do you not think this piece suits me perfectly, Callista? Finders keepers," Bianca gloated, her fingers tracing the heavy chain resting against her collarbone.

The necklace was exquisite and worth an incredible fortune. Yet, Callista's desire for the jewelry vanished into thin air, along with any lingering feelings for the man who had bought it. The husband was disposable now. The diamonds meant nothing. However, she firmly refused to leave behind the one item that held true spiritual meaning to her.

Callista stepped forward. Her posture grew rigid, her chin held high. "Give the wooden bracelet back to me." Her voice sliced through the heavy room like a blade of ice.

It was a simple, inexpensive good-luck charm. Callista had begged for those unassuming wooden beads at Haven Abbey. She had suffered for hours on her bruised, bleeding knees on the freezing stone steps, praying to earn a blessing for Dominic's health during a life-threatening fever. Every bead represented her pain and her fierce loyalty.

Realizing Callista cared only about the cheap, weathered bracelet strapped to her wrist, rather than the millions of dollars in diamonds hanging from her neck, a smile of deep condescension stretched Bianca's lips. She let out a mocking sigh, reveling in her power.

She lifted her arm and deliberately twisted the wooden beads around her frail wrist, flaunting them in the warm light. Her eyes suddenly flicked past Callista, locking onto a point somewhere up on the grand staircase. A sly, calculated smile touched her painted lips.

Bianca leaned in close, bringing her face inches from Callista's. "If you want it so desperately, why do you not just come and take it?" she whispered in a soft, provoking tone.

Callista had spent three long years swallowing her rage, enduring the constant disrespect and public humiliation. She did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. She lunged forward, grabbing Bianca’s slender wrist with a tight, unyielding grip. With a fierce tug, she yanked the prayer bracelet free. The rough wooden beads scraped over Bianca's skin and landed safely in Callista's palm.

Instantly, as if a master switch had been flipped, Bianca’s smug demeanor shattered into a million pieces. Loud, dramatic, panicked cries ripped from her throat, echoing through the massive house.

"What are you doing? Stop it, Callista! Dominic personally gave this bracelet to me!" Bianca wailed, dropping to her knees and waving her bare, slightly red wrist in the air like a wounded animal.

Before Callista could process the theatrical performance or turn around to see who was standing behind her, a powerful, unforgiving hand seized the back of her collar.

She was hauled backward with brutal force. The thick fabric of her blouse bit into her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs in a sudden rush. Stumbling backward over the thick rug, Callista fought a desperate battle to catch her balance. Her vision blurred for a split second as the air was forced from her chest.

She looked up in a dizzy daze. Dominic was already kneeling on the hardwood floor. He gently cradled a tearful Bianca against his broad chest, shielding the other woman from his own wife. Bianca buried her face in his shirt, her shoulders shaking with loud, fake sobs.

Dominic's jaw locked tight. A thick blue vein pulsed visibly at his temple in raw, unbridled anger. He took a deep, steadying breath, clearly fighting a losing battle to control his temper. Slowly, he raised his head and fixed his wife with a terrifyingly icy, authoritative stare.

"Apologize to Bianca." His deep voice commanded the room, leaving no room for negotiation or defense.