Jilted By Nephew, Claimed By King

The morning sun streamed into the hospital room, doing nothing to warm the chill in the air. Annelise sat on the sofa, wearing a fresh set of clothes Silas had brought. She had reapplied the dull foundation, put the glasses back on, and drawn her hair into a severe, unflattering bun. But she could feel the tension in her muscles.

The door opened. Preston walked in, holding a bouquet of roses that looked like they cost more than Annelise's foster family's car. Felicia trailed behind him, holding two cups of coffee.

"Annelise, darling!" Felicia cooed. Her voice was like syrup laced with arsenic. "We were so worried! The news said you were in shock."

Preston tossed the flowers onto the bed. He didn't look sorry. He looked annoyed.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?" Preston demanded. "Do you know how bad this looks for me? The press is sniffing around."

Annelise looked at him over the rim of her glasses. "You left me to die, Preston."

"It was a split-second decision!" Preston waved his hand dismissively. "It was a high-stress situation. You can't hold that against me. Besides, you're fine."

Felicia stepped forward, a smirk playing on her lips. "Here, have some coffee. You look like you need it. You look... dreadful."

She extended the cup. Annelise reached for it.

Just as Annelise's fingers brushed the cardboard sleeve, Felicia's wrist flicked. It was subtle, a motion meant to look like a fumble. The cup tipped. Scalding dark roast liquid arched through the air, aiming straight for Annelise's face.

Reflex took over.

Annelise didn't flinch back. Her left hand shot up, blurring with speed. She caught Felicia's wrist in mid-air, twisting it sharply outward.

The coffee splashed, but not on Annelise. It cascaded down the front of Felicia's cream-colored Chanel dress.

"Ahhh!" Felicia shrieked, jumping back. "You bitch! You burned me!"

Preston stared. His mouth hung open. He had never seen Annelise move like that. It was faster than the eye could follow.

Annelise stood up. She didn't let go of Felicia's wrist. She squeezed. She felt the delicate bones grind together.

"Let go!" Felicia screamed, dropping to her knees.

Annelise leaned down. Her voice dropped an octave, losing the tremble, losing the fear. It was cold steel.

"This is the only warning I will give you," she whispered into Felicia's ear, so low that only she could hear. "Next time, it won't be coffee."

She shoved Felicia away. Felicia scrambled back, clutching her wrist, sobbing.

"What the hell are you?" Preston stepped forward, his face red with anger. "You attacked her!"

"She tried to burn me," Annelise said calmly. "I'm done being your punching bag, Preston. Your uncle knows what you did. You think your trust fund is safe? You think your position in the company is secure? You need this merger, and you just tried to destroy its most important asset."

"Shut up!" Preston roared. The truth stung more than the coffee. He raised his hand, stepping into her space, preparing to backhand her.

Annelise watched the hand coming. She calculated the trajectory. She could duck, strike his throat, and collapse his windpipe in two moves.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow in the doorway. A tall, broad shadow.

Francesco.

Annelise aborted the counter-strike. She relaxed her core. She let her eyes go wide.

She threw herself backward, tripping over her own feet. She crashed into the coffee table. The crystal vase of lilies shattered, sending glass shards skittering across the floor.

"No! Please!" Annelise screamed, curling into a ball on the floor, covering her head with her arms.

Preston stood there, his hand raised, confused. He hadn't even touched her yet.

"I didn't..." Preston started.

"That's enough."

The voice came from the doorway. It was quiet. Deadly quiet.

Francesco Lancaster stepped into the room. He looked at Felicia, wailing about her dress. He looked at Preston, hand raised in a threat. And he looked at Annelise, cowering amidst broken glass.

His eyes went black.