Chapter 51: The Sister's Vigil
The smoothie was too sweet, thick with spinach and banana and something else, something earthy Stephanie couldn’t name. She took a polite sip under Jacqueline’s watchful, hopeful gaze.
“See? Good for the soil,” Jacqueline said with a wink, settling back into the plush sofa. “Got your vitamins, your maca root, a little pineapple core for the… you know.” She gestured vaguely at Stephanie’s middle.
Stephanie forced a smile, the weight of their collective hope a physical pressure on her diaphragm. “It is delicious, merci, Jacqueline.”
“Don’t mention it. Vee gave me the calendar, so I’m on it. Like white on rice.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s never been like this, you know. With anyone. It’s kinda scary, but mostly it’s beautiful. She wants this. We all do.”
The kindness in her words was a shard of glass. Beautiful. Wanted. Concepts so foreign they felt like an accusation. Stephanie took another gulp of the smoothie, the sweetness cloying in her throat. She focused on the cityscape, the tiny, anonymous cars moving like beads on a string far below.
A twinge started low in her belly. Not the dull, familiar ache of her cycle, but something sharper, a quick, insistent pinch that made her breath hitch.
“You okay?” Jacqueline asked, her smile faltering.
“Oui, just… a cramp.” Stephanie set the glass down on a coaster, the clink of glass on marble unnaturally loud. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, willing it away. It was probably nothing. Stress. The strangeness of it all.
Then it came again. Not a pinch, but a vicious, twisting claw that seized her insides and clenched. A gasp tore from her lips, involuntary and sharp. She doubled over, folding onto the expensive wool rug, her vision spotting at the edges.
“Stephanie!”
Jacqueline was beside her in an instant, hands on her shoulders. “What is it? What’s happening?”
She couldn’t answer. The pain was a white-hot furnace, radiating down her thighs and up into her ribs. She could feel a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, her skin clammy. The world narrowed to the fire in her core and the panicked sound of Jacqueline’s voice.
“Oh god, oh god. Vee!” Jacqueline scrambled for her phone, her fingers fumbling over the screen. The phone rang once, twice.
“This better be good, Jacks, I’m in a—” Veronica’s voice, crisp and impatient, crackled through the speaker.
“It’s Stephanie! Something’s wrong! She’s on the floor, Vee, she can’t even speak!”
There was a beat of dead air, then the sound of movement, a chair scraping, papers rustling. “What do you mean, on the floor? What’s happening?” Veronica’s voice was different now, stripped of all its authority, thin and tight.
“I don’t know! Cramps, bad ones, she just collapsed!”
“I’m five minutes away. Don’t move her. Just… stay with her.”
The line went dead. Jacqueline dropped the phone and crouched, brushing Stephanie’s hair back from her damp face. “She’s coming, honey. She’s coming. Just breathe.”
The elevator dinged what felt like a lifetime and an instant later. The penthouse door slammed open with such force it rattled the framed art on the walls. Veronica stood there, her suit jacket gone, her tie askew, her wild Afro a chaotic halo backlit by the hallway light. Her eyes scanned the room, locked onto Stephanie curled on the floor, and in two long strides she was there, kneeling, pushing Jacqueline aside.
“Stephanie.” Her voice was a low, urgent command. Her hands, the same ones that had been so tender with oils hours before, framed Stephanie’s face. They were ice-cold. “Look at me. Where does it hurt?”
Stephanie could only moan, pressing her hands harder against her stomach. The message was clear enough.
Veronica’s jaw tightened. She slid one arm under Stephanie’s shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her from the floor as if she weighed nothing. Stephanie’s head lolled against Veronica’s shoulder, the wool of her waistcoat rough against her cheek.
“Get the car. Now. The private elevator to the garage,” Veronica snapped at Jacqueline, already moving toward the door.
“I’m coming with you,” Jacqueline said, scrambling to her feet.
“No.” The word was a gunshot in the quiet room. Veronica stopped, turning her head just enough to pin Jacqueline with a look of pure, undiluted fury. “You’ve done enough.”
Jacqueline flinched as if she’d been struck. “Vee, I didn’t—”
“The smoothies? The tracking? Your ‘help’?” Veronica’s voice trembled with the effort to keep it low, the rage vibrating just beneath the surface. “Was it the maca root? The damn pineapple? What did you put in it?”
“It was just a smoothie! It was supposed to help!”
“Well, it didn’t help!” Veronica roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. The vulnerability was gone, burned away by a terror so profound it could only manifest as rage. “It’s not a game, Jacqueline! This isn’t one of your goddamn fertility spells! This is her! Look at her!”
Stephanie whimpered, the sound small and broken. It cut through the tension like a blade.
Veronica’s face crumpled for a split second before the mask of control slammed back into place. She adjusted her grip on Stephanie, her voice dropping back to a deadly calm. “Get the car. And stay out of my way.”
She turned and carried Stephanie out the door, leaving Jacqueline standing alone in the vast, silent living room, the half-finished green smoothie sweating onto the perfect, polished table.