MARRIED UNTIL MONDAY.

ARIA'S POV

The car screeched to a halt in front of the palace of a house. I ducked out, my fingers gripped tightly on my bag.

I didn't need a soothsayer to know my fate. I had left the house without asking Zane, and now he was back before me.

My other hand held my belly bump.

"Calm down, Aria. Tension isn't good for our little Christabel." I whispered, walking into the oddly quiet mansion. 

My shoe softly collided against the white marble, and the twine beads I wore shimmered as the chandelier cast its rays on me.

Nervously, I made my way to my room. I needed a second before I faced Zane.

He wouldn't hit me; he had only done that when he was drunk. I didn't blame him; he had lost a huge deal, and I kept urging him to eat. Well, that was in the past, more accurately, two months ago.

I unwrapped my hand from my bag and gripped the rails. I needed all the support I could get if I were to climb these 25 stairs without fainting. It all seemed good and healthy, but once I got pregnant, it felt like hell. I had begged Zane to get an elevator built; he said he would.

That had been three months ago.

Lord, help me.

That seemed to work.

Thankfully, our room was close to the stairs, the second on the right.

My footsteps echoed through the vast hall. The air was chilling; it wasn't the usual dreaded aura. This was different. The wind was dense, heavy with the weight of unspoken words, of warnings I chose to ignore.

My hand snaked around the doorknob as I pulled it open. A scream spilled out of the room and blasted in my ears.

Screams? No, correction: Moans.

I halted midway, the door half-open. The moans increased, mixing with the poisoned air. My blood turned cold at the scene in front of me. 

My... my... husband, Zane. He was there, on our matrimonial bed, naked and shamelessly bouncing into another woman.

My insides churned.

"Squeeze my cock again, baby girl." He grunted while the whore wrapped her legs around his torso, submitting to his dirty request.

I wanted to go in, to scream, to voice out my sorrows, but I couldn't. I couldn't even move. 

I felt trapped there, frozen, and my feet glued to the floor. I shook, trembling at the sight, yet I couldn't run, I couldn't scream.

Just then, my gaze caught the ink design on her ankle. It was a little snake design with its fangs seeping out.

N-no... no... no... please...

One betrayal was fucking enough; I wouldn't take another. I couldn't. Not this one.

No. God, please!

The whore tipped her head back in pleasure, and her long black hair fell back as her face came into view.

I felt daggers pierce my heart.

Si-lbil. Silbil??

My... my own sister.

"Faster." She groaned, and I almost choked on nothing; tears