That evening, the Evans estate sparkled beneath crystal chandeliers and polished glassware.

Champagne flowed freely, laughter echoed across the grand dining hall, and every smile looked carefully rehearsed. The celebration marked Thomas Evans’ recent promotion to regional director—a moment meant to showcase success, unity, and prestige. Yet beneath the elegance, tension quietly simmered.

At the head of the table sat Margaret Evans, sixty-three years old, impeccably dressed and unmistakably commanding. She had ruled her family for decades with a sharp sense of control and an obsession with appearances. Across from her sat Emily—her daughter-in-law—eight months pregnant, soft-spoken, and visibly glowing. Emily wore a long cream dress that framed her belly, her palm resting protectively over it as if shielding her unborn child from the room itself.

Margaret had never approved of Emily. In private, she dismissed her as “too ordinary” for the Evans name. That night, her polite smile barely concealed her disdain.