Two days after Dominic's quiet birthday dinner, the Vale household buzzed with preparations for something much grander. Claire had finally convinced her son to let her throw him a party—even if it was belated. To everyone else, it was a celebration of his 29th birthday, but to Claire, it was something deeper. Something bittersweet. Her son's last year in his twenties, and perhaps, one of the last major events she'd get to plan for him. She wasn't going to let it pass quietly.
"I already told you, I don't want anything too loud or extravagant," Dominic said that morning, eyeing his mother warily as she adjusted the flower arrangements on the dining table.
"It's not extravagant," Claire said innocently, while sneakily hiding the full list of guests behind her back.
Dominic sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Amira stood by the kitchen doorway, quietly watching the exchange. Claire caught her gaze and smiled.
"Oh, and you," Claire pointed at her with a twinkle in her eyes. "You and I are going dress shopping."
Amira blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you!"
Amira smiled, the warmth in her chest growing. "Okay. Let's go."
The soft rustle of silk echoed in the fitting room as Claire held up yet another gown against Amira's frame. "What do you think of this one?" she asked, her eyes crinkling with warm delight.
Amira turned, catching her reflection in the full-length mirror. The gown shimmered softly under the boutique lights—simple, elegant, and a deep green satin that complimented her skin tone. "It's beautiful," she murmured.
Claire smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Dominic won't be able to take his eyes off you."
The comment made Amira blush. "It's just a party."
"It's not just a party," Claire said with a gentle laugh. "It's his birthday, and it's the first time he's truly letting me celebrate him since he was a boy."
The boutique was quiet, save for the occasional humming of the stylist arranging accessories in the background. After trying on a few more dresses and settling on the navy blue gown, Claire and Amira left the boutique, but instead of heading home, Claire insisted on a "girls' day out."
They wandered into a little café tucked away from the bustle of the city. They had croissants, cappuccinos, and conversation that flowed more naturally than Amira expected. Claire was genuinely curious about her likes, her childhood, her dreams—even her favorite snacks.
"I'm glad we're doing this," Claire said, holding her warm mug between her hands. "You're becoming very dear to me, Amira."
Amira smiled, moved more than she expected by those words. "I'm glad too."
As they headed back home hours later, shopping bags in tow, Claire turned to her and said, "You know, I always imagined having a daughter. I used to think I missed out on that bond. But with you… maybe I didn't miss it after all."
That evening passed gently, the kind of day that wrapped around Amira like a comforter. It reminded her of something she hadn't felt in a long time—family.
The day of the party arrived with unhurried grace. Claire was the first to leave, excited and nervous about the surprise arrangements she had made. "Make sure she gets there," she said pointedly to Dominic before stepping into her car.
Dominic rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, Mom."
By the time Amira stepped into the hallway, Dominic was already dressed in a dark grey suit that looked tailored to his every movement. He turned, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.
"You look…" He cleared his throat. "Incredible."
"Thanks," she said, smoothing down the fabric of her gown. "You don't look so bad yourself."
They drove to the venue in comfortable silence, a quiet anticipation settling between them. The party was held at an upscale rooftop garden lounge, the lights soft and golden, the scent of fresh flowers wafting through the air. Claire had truly outdone herself.
As soon as they arrived, Dominic was swept away by guests offering congratulations and handshakes. Amira assured him she'd be fine, and he kissed her cheek absentmindedly before disappearing into the crowd.
Amira wandered slowly along the edge of the garden, admiring the decor. Tiny fairy lights strung between potted trees, tables draped in ivory and silver, laughter rising softly from cliques of coworkers.
Then she saw them—Jason and Lila.
They stood close together, dressed to perfection, the picture of shallow elegance. Lila wore a deep red dress that clung to her like a second skin. Jason's eyes caught hers first. His expression faltered.
"Amira," he said, voice low, strained. "What are you doing here?"
Amira stood straighter, her tone firm but calm. "I came to celebrate my husband's birthday."
Jason scoffed, stepping closer. "You expect me to believe that?"
Lila said nothing. For once, she didn't smirk or speak.
"You broke up with me not that long ago, Amira. Don't pretend this whole marriage thing is real just to get under my skin."
She didn't flinch. "Believe whatever you want."
Jason's jaw tightened. "What did you do, huh? What did you promise him? Or did you sleep with him to make this happen?"
Her heart pounded, but she held her ground. "Jason, don't cause a scene."
"No, let's have it out," he hissed. "You're mine, Amira. You think I'm going to let some stiff in a suit take what belongs to me?"
He grabbed her arm, but she pulled it free.
"Don't touch me," she said coldly.
Jason's eyes darkened. "Come with me."
Before she could protest, he was already dragging her toward a more secluded hallway off the main garden, away from the guests. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she struggled to keep up without stumbling.
He shoved her gently into the shadows of the hallway. "You think you can erase everything we had by pretending to be someone else's wife?"
"What we had ended a long time ago," she snapped. "Let go of me."
But his grip only tightened.
"I gave you everything," he growled. "And now you're parading around like you're some kind of prize?"
"I never asked you to give me anything," she said through clenched teeth. "Let. Go."
Jason's face twisted with something almost feral. "No one else gets to have you. You're mine."
In a sudden move, he pinned her arm to the wall.
She panicked, kicked out, catching him in the shin. He let go with a curse, and she fled down the corridor. She didn't look back.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she turned a corner—only to crash into someone.
Claire.
The older woman's eyes widened. "Amira? What—?"
Before she could answer, Lila appeared from behind, grabbing Amira's arm.
"Let go of her!" Claire shouted, stepping between them.
In the struggle, Lila shoved Claire aside, harder than she likely intended.
Claire stumbled—then fell.
The sound was horrifying. A loud, dull crack echoed through the hallway as Claire's head struck the edge of the stairs. She didn't move.
"Claire!" Amira screamed, dropping beside her. "Oh my God, Claire—"
Lila stood frozen.
Amira touched Claire's head and her hand came away slick with blood.
Before she could even begin to cry out for help, something slammed into her from behind.
Her vision blurred. Then went black.