The room felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of it in a single second. The rhythmic, rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump of the baby's heartbeat on Dr. Miller's ultrasound machine was the only sound echoing through the sterile examination room.

By my fifth month of pregnancy, my baby bump was clearly visible. I wore a custom emerald-green silk maternity gown that draped gracefully over my curves, emphasizing the radiant glow Dr. Miller said came with healthy pregnancies.

Chicago high society was abuzz with rumors. The news that Chloe Vance—the event coordinator who had been publicly dumped by Derek Mercer—was now living at the Russo estate as the protected consort of Dominic Russo had sent shockwaves through the city's elite.

To solidify our position and announce the upcoming heir, Dominic decided we would attend the annual Autumn Charity Ball at the Drake Hotel—the very same social circle where Derek had once tried to parade Britney.

When Dominic and I stepped out of our limousine outside the Drake Hotel, dozens of camera flashes erupted instantly. Armed Russo guards formed a tight perimeter around us, but Dominic kept his arm firmly wrapped around my waist, his hand resting proudly over my rounded stomach as reporters shouted questions.

We stepped into the grand ballroom, beneath crystal chandeliers and shimmering silk decorations. The music seemed to stutter as the wealthy crowd noticed us.

Standing near the bar was Derek.

In just two weeks, Derek looked like he had aged ten years. After Dominic bought out his firm and blacklisted him, Derek had lost his high-paying executive job, his apartment, and his status. Britney was nowhere to be seen. He was dressed in a rumpled suit, holding a cheap glass of scotch, looking completely desperate.

When his eyes met mine, he flinched, shrinking back into the shadows near the bar. He saw me standing tall, glowing in emerald silk, flanked by the most powerful man in the state.

"Does seeing him bother you?" Dominic whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

"No," I replied truthfully, looking at Derek without a single grain of emotion. "It feels like looking at a stranger I used to know in a bad dream."