Chapter 2 - The House of Cards

The silence in the master bedroom was deafening. The expensive crystal champagne flute slipped from Dominic’s trembling fingers, shattering against the imported hardwood floor. The sharp sound barely registered in his mind. All he could hear was Dr. Alexander Reed’s ice-cold voice echoing in his ears.

“Permanently infertile.”

For years, Dominic had blamed Audrey for their inability to conceive. He had allowed his mother to make cruel, passive-aggressive comments at family dinners. He had used it as an excuse to pull away from his marriage, seeking comfort in the arms of Paige, the twenty-four-year-old marketing assistant currently lounging on his king-sized bed.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Paige whined, sitting up and letting the silk sheets fall away from her shoulders. “Did your mother call again? Tell her we’re busy.”

Dominic couldn’t speak. He stared at his phone screen, where Audrey’s final message glared back at him like a neon sign in the dark. Enjoy the family you chose.

His heart hammered violently against his ribs. Audrey was pregnant. She had been carrying his child—the only child he would ever be able to have. And now, the baby was gone. The weight of the realization crushed the breath out of his lungs.

“Dominic? You’re scaring me,” Paige said, her tone shifting from playful to annoyed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “If this is about Audrey, just let her go. You said yourself she was boring and holding you back. We can finally be a real family now.”

The word family made Dominic sick to his stomach. He suddenly remembered the way his mother had gloated that afternoon, bragging about putting Audrey “in her place.” He grabbed his jacket, ignoring Paige’s protests, and stormed down the hallway of the massive mansion.

He dialed Audrey’s number. The number you have reached is no longer in service. He texted her. Message failed to send. Panic, cold and sharp, began to seep into his veins.

The next morning at 8:00 AM sharp, the real nightmare began.

Victoria was at her favorite luxury boutique in Beverly Hills, preparing to buy a $15,000 diamond tennis bracelet to celebrate her son’s “impending freedom.” She handed her exclusive black card to the cashier with a practiced, haughty smile.

A moment later, the machine beeped a harsh red error.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Vance,” the cashier said nervously. “Your card has been declined.”

“Excuse me?” Victoria scoffed, her face flushing with indignation. “Run it again. The machine is obviously broken. Do you know who I am? My son owns Vance Construction.”

“I’ve run it three times, ma’am. The account has been frozen by the primary holding institution.”

Before Victoria could unleash her fury, her cell phone rang. It was Dominic. He sounded breathless, his voice pitched in absolute hysteria.