"I’m pregnant," I said slowly, my voice thick with disbelief. "And you’re telling me to drink alcohol?"
He dismissed my concern with a wave of his hand.
"It’s just a glass of champagne. I already asked the doctor. You’re eight months along, the baby’s stable. One drink won’t hurt."
I pushed his hand away.
"I’m not drinking. I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t owe anyone an apology."
Alaric’s expression darkened at once.
"Seraphine, I’ve already given you enough respect tonight. Don’t test me."
"Brother, don’t be so harsh."
Calla stepped in with a gentle smile, offering me a glass of water instead.
"Dear, don’t take it to heart. Drink some water and calm down. Alaric didn’t mean to upset you."
I took the glass from her hand. The water looked clear, harmless.
"Can I go upstairs and rest after this?" I asked softly.
She nodded sweetly.
I downed the water in one gulp. The warmth slid down my throat—but almost immediately, something felt wrong.
Heat spread through my body. A fire under my skin. My limbs turned heavy. My nerves sparked and trembled like worms crawling inside me.
"What... did you give me?" I choked out.