There was no attempt to catch himself. He simply dropped, lifeless, onto the Persian rug inches from the blocks his twin sons, Ethan and Noah, were stacking, unaware their world had just shifted.
“Mr. Cole!” Vanessa, the young housekeeper, screamed, her voice slicing through the silence.
She had been folding baby clothes near the crib. Dropping everything, she rushed to her knees, her yellow gloves shaking as she searched Adrian’s neck for a pulse.
“Help, Ms. Victoria! Please! He’s not breathing!”
Victoria Hale, elegant and composed, didn’t rush forward. No panic. No tears. Just a slow adjustment of her diamond earring as she studied her fiancé’s body with cool detachment.
“Stop yelling. You’ll scare the kids,” she said coldly.
She nudged Adrian’s shoulder with the tip of her stiletto.
“Adrian. Get up. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Ma’am, he’s unconscious! Call an ambulance!” Vanessa begged, feeling how cold his skin was.
Victoria gave a short laugh. “If he’s dead, he’s dead. Saves me a divorce.”
Adrian heard every word.