Page 132 of Porcelain Lies

“Imelda will be brought to task,” he says. “This cannot happen again.”

I nod without speaking, too busy eating to try to find words.

“Another thing that cannot happen again is what we did yesterday.”

I stop chewing and look up at him. “What?” I manage to get around a mouthful of food.

Did he really just say that? As if the whole thing wasmyidea?

“What an asshole,”Boyana mutters.

The casual way he dismisses what happened between us stings more than it should. Like I’m just another business transaction he’s concluded.

“You heard me.” He crosses his arms across his massive chest.

Stop looking at him, dammit.

I swallow the food in my mouth. “Fine by me,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the hollow feeling in my chest. “It was a mistake anyway.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. I focus on my food, refusing to let him see how much this hurts. It’s better this way. Easier. He’s made it clear I’m just an incubator for his heir.

The sandwich turns to ash in my mouth, but I force myself to finish it. The baby needs nutrients, even if my appetite has vanished. I’m grateful when Aleksei’s phone rings, giving him an excuse to step away.

I return to my wing alone, my steps heavy. I touch my lips, remembering the passion we shared. How quickly he switched from desire to dismissal. Just another reminder that I’m here for one purpose only.

“Don’t kid yourself,”Boyana whispers.“You’re carrying his child, not winning his heart.”

I return to my room to find a tray waiting on my desk — some kind of creamy pasta dish with a side salad. The portion is larger than Imelda usually allows.

“Miss must eat everything,” Imelda says from the doorway, making me jump. I didn’t even hear her approach. “Very important for baby.”

Something feels off about her insistence, especially after witnessing that exchange with Sofia.

“I already had lunch,” I tell her, gesturing at the tray. “Aleksei made me a sandwich.”

Imelda’s face tightens. “But this is special recipe. Very good.” She hovers by the door, watching me with an intensity that sets my nerves on edge.

“I’m still full,” I say firmly. “Maybe later.”

“No, no. Must eat now while warm.” Imelda steps further into the room.

My suspicion grows at her unusual pushiness. Normally she just drops off the food and leaves.

“She’s lying,”Boyana whispers.“You saw her take Sofia’s money.”

I move to the window, needing space from Imelda’s hovering presence. “I’ll eat when I’m hungry,” I say firmly. “You can take it away.”

Imelda stands there for a long moment, conflict clear on her face. Finally, she gives a short nod and retrieves the tray, though her movements seem reluctant.

Once she’s gone, I pace the room restlessly. The combination of Sofia’s bribe and Imelda’s strange behavior has me on edge. I need a distraction from these suspicions before I drive myself crazy.

I settle at my desk and open the laptop, grateful for my designated internet time. The strict schedule feels infantilizing, but right now, I’ll take anything I can get.

My inbox loads painfully slowly through the restricted connection. No new messages. I refresh again, hoping to see something from Hannah. Nothing.

“She’s probably busy playing spy games,”Boyana grumbles.

I try to ignore the ache of isolation. I miss our late-night chats over wine and ice cream, dissecting our problems until they seem manageable.

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