Chapter 3

The night of the gala was a blur of flashing cameras and fake smiles. The Newport elite were all there, dripping in jewels and veiled contempt. They looked at me like I was a curiosity, the hillbilly bride who had somehow trapped the golden boy.

I wore a simple dress, feeling out of place among the couture gowns. Julian, handsome in his tuxedo, ignored me completely. He stood with Cassidy, who was radiant in red, accepting congratulations.

Halfway through the evening, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the velvet-draped display in the center of the ballroom.

Julian stepped up to a microphone, his voice booming through the silent room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to celebrate a true miracle. My miracle."

Polite applause rippled through the crowd.

"But every miracle has its price, and tonight, we' re going to have some fun with that." He pulled the velvet cloth away with a flourish.

My breath caught in my throat.

There, on a tiered platform, were one hundred large eggs. Ostrich eggs, emu eggs, all painted in neutral, earthy tones. And scattered among them, I recognized the unique, mottled pattern of my own three children.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I felt a psychic pull, a silent scream from them, lost in a sea of counterfeits.

"My lovely wife, Elara," Julian continued, his eyes finding mine in the crowd, cold and mocking. "She has a unique... connection to things. She believes three of these eggs are very, very special. So, we' re going to play a little game."

The crowd murmured, intrigued.

"Elara will have three chances to identify her eggs. But here' s the fun part. For every wrong guess she makes, one of our generous donors"-he gestured to a man in the front row who was holding a large, ceremonial hammer-"gets to smash the egg she chose. And their donation to the Thorne Foundation is doubled!"

A wave of excited chatter filled the room. They thought it was a brilliant, theatrical game. A rich man' s cruel sport.

"What do you say, my love?" Julian' s voice was slick with poison. "Are you ready to prove your mountain magic to us all?"

I felt hundreds of eyes on me. The flashing lights disoriented me. The psychic hum of my children was a chaotic buzz, impossible to pinpoint.

Security guards, large men in black suits, moved to my side, their presence a silent warning. I was trapped.

I looked at Julian, my husband, the man whose body I had knit back together with my own soul. He smiled, a victor' s smile. He was enjoying this. He was breaking me in front of the world, all to appease his jealous stepsister.

"Come now, Elara," Cassidy called out, her voice like honeyed venom. "Don't be shy. It's just a game."