Astra Vale was pregnant.

She headed home with the test results tucked carefully in her purse, her mind spinning with possibilities of how to surprise Cassian when he returned from his business trip. He had been in Singapore for nearly three weeks, and tomorrow, finally, he would be home.

The moment she stepped through the front door of their penthouse, however, she noticed a pair of designer heels that were not hers: sleek black Louboutins with the telltale red soles, carelessly kicked off near the entryway. A faint, expensive floral scent, Seraphine's signature, clung to the air, solidifying Astra's dreadful suspicion.

She recognized them immediately. Seraphine had bought them just last month, making a show of the purchase at lunch while Astra admired them. Her half-sister always did have exquisite taste.

But wasn't Seraphine supposed to be in Singapore too? As Cassian's new marketing director, she had insisted on joining this particular trip to "strengthen international partnerships."

It was then Astra heard the voice drifting down from upstairs, soft, throaty laughter that could only belong to Seraphine.

Astra's hand instinctively moved to her still-flat stomach as her body began to tremble. If Seraphine was here, and there was a man with her... which other man could it be?

She found herself climbing the stairs despite every instinct screaming at her to turn around. With each step, the voices from their bedroom became clearer, more distinct.

"What are we going to do when she returns?" Seraphine's voice carried that familiar purr, the one that had charmed professors, boyfriends, and, apparently, Cassian. "She's been dreaming of having your baby for so long, and now I've beaten her to it."

Cassian's response was cold, distant. "I don't care what she thinks."

"She fought everyone to marry you, you know. Even our father tried to talk sense into her." Seraphine's laugh was crystalline and cruel. "How do you plan to explain this?"

"I don't plan to explain anything."

Astra's heart stopped beating for a moment that stretched into eternity. Her hand, which had been reaching for the bedroom door handle, froze in midair. Slowly, carefully, she pulled it back and turned away.

Even if she opened that door, what good would it do? She knew, deep down, that Cassian Rourke had never loved her. She was the one who had insisted, who had fought her family, the board, and half of high society to marry him.

In their three-year marriage, she had visited every fertility specialist in the city, tried every treatment, endured every procedure, all to give him the child he claimed to want for the Rourke legacy. And now, when she was finally carrying his baby, he was in their bed with her half-sister, who was also pregnant.

Astra walked out of the penthouse like a ghost, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. The October rain had started while she was inside, and she barely noticed it soaking through her cashmere coat as she wandered the streets aimlessly. Seraphine's voice echoed in her mind alongside Cassian's cold indifference.

No wonder he had hired Seraphine fresh out of her MBA program. No wonder he insisted she accompany him on every important trip. They had been together this entire time, and Astra had been too trusting, too naive to see it.

From the bedroom window high above, Seraphine watched her sister's small figure disappear into the rainy evening. A satisfied smile curved her lips.

The conversation Astra had overheard was carefully orchestrated theater. Cassian's voice had been nothing but cleverly edited recordings from his rejection of Seraphine months ago, when he had coldly informed her that his marriage was not up for discussion and that she should "maintain professional boundaries" if she wanted to keep her position.

"My wife is Astra. Please have some respect for yourself," he had said then.

"I don't plan on changing that arrangement," had been his final word on the matter.

But Seraphine had recorded every dismissive word, every cold rejection, and tonight she had played them back through hidden speakers while Astra listened at the door. She knew her gentle half-sister would never have the courage to actually confront them.

With a cold laugh, Seraphine pulled out her phone and dialed a number she had memorized weeks ago.

The plan was already in motion.

---

Astra had walked through the rain for over an hour when she found herself on the Westmont Bridge. The storm had driven most traffic from the roads, leaving the elevated span nearly deserted.

She stopped at the center of the bridge, gripping the railing as she stared down at the dark water below. The baby. She had to think of the baby now. Whatever happened between her and Cassian, this child deserved better than the wreckage of their marriage.

The sound of a heavy engine broke through her reverie. A cargo truck was approaching far too fast for the wet conditions, its headlights cutting through the rain like searchlights.

Astra looked up just as the truck swerved directly toward her.

The impact launched her into the air before she crashed against the bridge's stone barrier. Pain exploded through her body as blood poured from a gash on her head, painting her vision crimson. Every breath felt like glass in her lungs.

Through her daze, she saw the truck driver climb down from his cab. He checked her pulse with professional efficiency, then pulled out a phone.

"The client, she's still alive. Do you want me to finish the job?"

Astra's broken heart shattered completely. Mr. Rourke, Cassian Rourke, the man she loved, the father of her unborn child.

He had ordered this. He wanted her dead because she had discovered his affair with Seraphine. Because she was an inconvenience to whatever future they were planning together.

The driver ended his call and looked down at her with cold professionalism. "Nothing personal, lady. You just fell in love with the wrong man."

His boot caught her in the ribs, rolling her closer to the bridge's edge. She was barely conscious, barely breathing, but she could hear the waves crashing against the rocks far below.

Another kick. Another roll toward oblivion.

"See you around," the driver muttered, and delivered the final blow that sent her tumbling over the barrier.

As she fell toward the churning water, Astra's last conscious thought was of Cassian as she had first met him, young and brilliant, standing in her father's garden under the cherry blossoms, promising her a future full of love and children.

"I'll never forgive you, Cassian Rourke," she whispered to the wind.

The sea swallowed her whole.