As the Southern Wind Moves On

Chapter 6---Ariana Is Pregnant

"Ms. Whitmore," I remarked with a cool glance, "your facade is slipping faster than I anticipated." I picked up my bag and turned toward the Harrington residence.

Even if Maxwell refused to accompany me, I wouldn't stay away.

At the doorway, Ariana blocked my path. With Maxwell absent, her innocent act vanished, her eyes turning icy. "When will you sign the divorce papers?"

I paused, then smiled faintly. "Are you demanding my divorce—as the other woman?"

"You're the other woman!" Her face darkened, clearly stung. "Elara Marston, if it weren't for you, I'd be the lady of this house, not you. Mr. Edmund Harrington is gone—no one can shield you now. If I were you, I'd sign quietly and disappear with Maxwell's money."

"Ms. Whitmore," I replied coldly, "you're not me." I brushed past her, heading for the stairs. No one but Maxwell could ever cut me.

Used to being adored, Ariana couldn't bear being ignored. She grabbed my arm. "Elara, do you have any shame? Maxwell doesn't love you—why cling to him?"

I turned, almost amused. "Since you know he doesn't care for me, why are you so afraid?"

"You—" The girl flushed, speechless with rage.

I leaned in, a mocking smile on my lips, voice low. "As for why I stay by his side—" I paused, then drawled, "His performance in bed is flawless. What do you think keeps me here?"

"Elara, you're shameless!" Ariana shrieked, shoving me hard. Behind me loomed the staircase. I instinctively sidestepped.

But I hadn't expected her to lose balance—she tumbled down the stairs.

"Ahh—" Her scream tore through the hall. I froze.

A cold force shoved me aside. Maxwell descended in a blur, rushing to Ariana sprawled on the floor below.

She curled up, face ashen, clutching her abdomen, whispering, "The baby... save my baby..."

Blood spread beneath her, staining the carpet crimson. I stood stunned. She was pregnant?

Maxwell's child?

"Maxwell... the baby..." She clung to his sleeve, voice trembling.

Maxwell's jaw clenched, sweat beading on his brow, his eyes like polished obsidian. "Don't be afraid. The baby will be fine." He lifted her into his arms and strode toward the door.

After a few steps, he stopped. His face was stone, his voice a blade sheathed in ice. "Elara Marston, well done."

Three words, light and dismissive, heavy with contempt, loathing, and fury.

I stood frozen, helpless.

"Are you not going to follow and explain?" A deep voice came from behind. I turned—Elias Montgomery. When had he arrived?

I steadied my breath. "Explain what?"

He arched a brow. "Aren't you afraid he'll think you pushed Ariana?"

I looked down, bitterness rising. "Whether I pushed her or not doesn't matter. What matters is that his Ariana is hurt. Someone must pay the price."

"You're unexpectedly composed," Elias murmured. He grabbed the medical kit and left the villa.

He was going to the hospital—to see Ariana.