The porcelain cup felt warm against my trembling fingers, smelling faintly of chamomile and sweet clover honey.
Julian: Drink it while it’s hot, sweetheart. You’ve barely kept anything down all morning.
Julian stood beside the polished marble counter of our kitchen, dressed in his tailored charcoal suit, adjusting the gold cufflinks his mother had given him on our wedding day.
Clara: The nausea has just been awful today. The doctor said the second trimester gets easier, but I feel completely drained.
Evelyn: It’s a delicate pregnancy, Clara. That’s why Julian and I brewed this special herbal blend for you. It settled Julian’s stomach when he was young, and it will keep the baby calm.
My mother-in-law Evelyn sat at the breakfast nook, her manicure flawless, her cold gray eyes tracking every slight movement of my hands. She smiled, but the warmth never reached her eyes.
Clara: Thank you, Evelyn. You really didn't have to go through the trouble.
Julian: Nonsense. You’re carrying the family heir. Take a sip. Let it soothe your stomach before we head over to the estate lawyer’s office.
I lifted the rim toward my lips, blowing gently over the rising steam.
A loud crash echoed from the front hallway, followed by frantic, heavy footsteps tearing across the hardwood floor.
Julian: What on earth is that?
Evelyn: Julian, lock the dining room doors right now!
The pantry door burst open, and a disheveled woman stumbled into the kitchen, her hair tangled, clutching a torn brown envelope against her chest.
Julian: Get the hell out of my house! Security!
Evelyn: Call the police, Julian! She’s trespassing!
The woman lunged forward, knocking a glass bowl off the island, her knuckles white as she reached toward my trembling hands.
Maya: Don't drink that! Stop! Put it down!
Clara: Who are you? What are you talking about?
Maya: Let me go! Don't drink that, Clara! He and his mother are trying to kill your unborn baby!