She Faked Her Pregnancy to Steal His Fortune—But His Granddaughter Knew the Truth

The Gala Where Everything Shattered

The chandeliers of Palazzo Rossi cast golden rivers across the marble staircase, but the warmth stopped at the cold smile on Lucinda's lips. I stood beside my grandfather, Dominic Castellano, my hand in his, watching the woman who was supposed to become my aunt glide down the steps like a predator surveying her prey.

She was beautiful, I'd give her that. Ruby earrings, black satin that hugged a belly she touched constantly—too constantly, like she was checking it was still there. My brother Adrian followed her like a shadow, his white linen jacket already wrinkled with nerves.

I saw her eyes land on my toy horse, the one I'd left by the balustrade. She kicked it aside, and when I reached for it, she slapped my hand away with her clutch. "Stay on the floor where you belong, little pest!" she hissed. "My unborn son is inheriting every mansion and bank account in this family tonight!"

I didn't cry. Not in front of her. But my eyes burned, and Grandpa's hand tightened around mine. He said nothing, but I felt the tremor in his fingers—anger, not fear.

Adrian didn't say a word either. He just looked at the floor, and in that moment, I saw him for what he was: a man drowning in a woman's lies.

Vance, the security chief, positioned himself behind Lucinda like a guard dog. I wondered why he was watching us instead of the guests. Then I noticed the way she glanced at him—a silent command, not a plea.

I tugged Grandpa's sleeve and pointed at her middle. "Grandpa… her tummy pillow is upside down! It slid down to her knees when she kicked my toy!"

My voice was quiet, but the room seemed to hold its breath. Lucinda's smirk froze into something pale and ugly. She clutched her belly, but the damage was done.

Grandpa stepped forward, his eyes boring into hers. He didn't ask. He reached out, lifted her silk shawl, and found the foam prosthetic belt—slipped, crooked, and obviously fake.

He held it up under the chandelier, and the truth glittered like broken glass. "Look at this hollow silicone strap," he roared. "You faked an heir to rob my bloodline and abused this innocent child in my own hall!"

Lucinda stumbled back, clutching her flattened gown. Adrian's face went white. And in the chaos, Vance lunged toward Grandpa—but Grandpa was faster. He caught Vance's wrist, twisted, and drove a forearm into his chest that sent the man crashing to the carpet.

"Security!" Grandpa bellowed, "Throw this con artist and my spineless son into the street—every trust fund, villa, and share is stripped from your names tonight!"

Lucinda screamed as guards grabbed her. Adrian fell to his knees, begging, but Grandpa turned away. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I pressed my cheek to his lapel.

I felt his heartbeat under the wool, fast and hard. The gala was over, but I knew this was just the beginning.