The Vale estate was drowning in black. Not quiet grief. Not soft mourning. But something heavier, louder.

Structured. Calculated. Women in suffocating designer dresses. Men in tailored suits, whispering behind gloved hands. Eyes watching. Measuring. It didn’t feel like four lives had been lost.

It felt like a throne had been emptied. And everyone was waiting to see who would sit on it next.

—

At the front. Madam Vale broke. Completely. The composure she carried into the Pedro mansion the night before was gone. Shattered. Because there were no bodies. No faces. No final goodbyes.

Just sealed caskets... holding what had been identified through DNA. Fragments. Pieces. A life reduced to confirmation reports.

Her cries tore through the ceremony, raw and unfiltered. Even the in-laws, so composed moments ago, couldn’t hold themselves together anymore.

Julian stood beside Amara, his hand tightly wrapped around hers. Too tightly.

She could feel it. The tension. The pull. His eyes kept drifting toward his mother, toward the woman collapsing under a grief no one could carry for her.

He hesitated. Just for a second. And Amara saw it. Of course, she did. She gently squeezed his hand. A silent permission. "Go," she whispered softly.

Julian looked at her, just briefly. Then nodded. Reluctantly letting go.

He moved toward his mother, catching her before she completely fell apart, holding her as she cried into him. Amara stood alone. And suddenly. The air felt heavier.

Thicker. She exhaled slowly. "I’ll just step out for a moment," she murmured to no one in particular, already turning away from the suffocating crowd.

But she didn’t get far. "Isn’t this... something?" The voice slid in beside her. Smooth. Amara turned. One of Julian’s uncles stood there, a faint smile playing at his lips, completely out of place. "Nice to meet you," he said casually. "I’m Julian’s uncle."

Amara gave a small, polite nod. Already uncomfortable. But he didn’t stop. "The prince dies... and the spare takes the throne." A soft chuckle. "Funny how life works."

Amara’s expression tightened slightly. She didn’t respond. "So," he continued, tilting his head, his gaze dropping, not subtly, to her stomach. "When are you due?" A pause.

"Julian couldn’t even tell us what you’re having. Boy or girl." His smile thinned. "The family is starting to wonder..."

A beat. "If the pregnancy is even real." The words hit. Hard. Amara’s breath caught, but she held herself still. Composed. Barely.

"Well, I’m just saying," he added lightly, as if he hadn’t just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Another voice joined in. A woman this time. Sharp.

"Well, maybe it’s a girl," one of the aunts said, stepping closer, her lips curling faintly. "She looks pregnant to me."

A soft, mocking shrug. "I guess they’re just afraid to admit there’s no heir on the way." That... That was it. Amara felt it. That breaking point. The noise in her head is rising. The weight. The pressure. The insult. The grief. Everything is piling up at once.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. Her chest tightened. She was about to speak...About to snap. "You people really have no shame, do you?" The voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Sharp. Familiar. Unwelcome. Amara froze. No. Not now. She turned. And there she was.

Amira. Standing there as she belonged. Like she had any right to be. Leo just behind her. Watching. Silent. "You might want to mind your damn business," Amira continued, her tone dripping with irritation as she stepped forward. "Amara is a Piers. A Pedro Piers."

Her chin lifted slightly. "That means she’s swimming in money and doesn’t need her eyes on the Vale fortune like you greedy bastards."

Gasps rippled faintly through the small circle. But Amira didn’t care. "If you want to mourn," she added coldly, "go do that." Her gaze hardened. "And stop pestering a pregnant woman." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Silence. Tense. Uncomfortable. The uncle scoffed lightly, clearly displeased, but unwilling to escalate further in public. The aunt turned away with a huff.

One by one. They retreated. Not defeated. Just... postponed. And just like that. The pressure lifted. But it didn’t feel like relief. Because now. Amara was standing face to face with the one person she least wanted to see. Amira. Of all people.

Defending her. Amara’s jaw tightened. Her eyes hardened. Because whatever just happened. Whatever Amira had said. Didn’t erase anything. Didn’t fix anything. Didn’t give her the right.

And somehow. That made it worse. Amara steadied herself, one hand resting protectively over her stomach as she faced them.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, her voice tight, not loud, but edged with everything she was holding in. Amira didn’t even flinch.

"Well, Leo knew the late Mrs. Vale," she said smoothly. "We’re here to show our respect." Amara let out a quiet, humorless breath. "Good. Do that... and get lost."

Her eyes sharpened. "And mind your business next time. I was talking to my family. You don’t get to intervene." The words snapped between them, sharp and final as she turned to leave.

"Oh my, look at that," Amira scoffed under her breath, loud enough to stop her. Amara paused. "You still think I killed Mother, right?" Silence. Heavy. Amara didn’t turn immediately. Didn’t answer. But her stillness said enough. Amira gave a small, careless shrug.

"Well, I don’t care what you think anymore," she continued lightly. "But trust me..." Her eyes flicked down, briefly, to Amara’s stomach. "You’ve got bigger problems now."

A smile curled slowly onto her lips. "Like the baby in your womb... and Julian, now the prince instead of the spare." There was something almost playful in her tone. Almost.

But it cut just the same. Amara inhaled slowly. Deep. Forcing herself not to react. Not here. Not now. Before she could say anything. "Amara." Julian’s voice cut in, firm and immediate as he approached, his gaze scanning her quickly.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," he said, already stepping closer, his hand finding hers without hesitation.