That night, grief over losing my child consumed me, and I spiked a high fever.
"Water... I need water..."
No one answered.
I forced myself up to pour a glass, but the bedroom door was wide open.
Vivian's cheeks were flushed. "Lawrence is full now, but my chest is so swollen it hurts... Benedict, could you..."
Benedict leaned down. "Sure."
The door closed. The sounds that followed seeped through the walls.
Like someone was carving a hole straight through my heart.
I thought of the first time Benedict kissed me, his face red with embarrassment. "Phoebe, can I kiss you?"
Now he was touching another woman.
Somewhere in my feverish haze, a large hand pressed against my forehead.
"Phoebe, you're burning up. Take this medicine."
Benedict stayed by my side the entire night. When I finally came to, he handed me a suitcase he'd already packed.
"Honey, I put together all the things you usually like. You should stay in the attic for a while, just so you don't pass whatever you have to Vivian and the baby."
He met my look of disbelief.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Phoebe, I know this isn't fair to you, but..."
"Don't bother explaining. I understand."
My daughter's ashes hadn't even been buried yet.
I glanced at my phone. Seven more days. After that, I would never endure this kind of humiliation again.
Ten years ago, we'd lived in an attic just like this one. Cramped, dusty, suffocating.
Cheap rent. Seven-dollar egg fried rice. And I'd been so happy I could burst.
Now he drove cars worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. He had a gentle, devoted wife. A son he adored.
And all I had were the salt of my own tears.
In the middle of the night, someone yanked me out of sleep. A palm cracked across my face, the sting white-hot.
"Phoebe Henson, a viper like you deserves to die! You couldn't hold on to your own child, so now you're trying to hurt Vivian's son!"
I stared at her, bewildered.
"Mom, what are you talking about? I didn't—"
Naomi's foot slammed into my lower abdomen, right where I'd had the surgery. The pain folded me in half, and I crumpled to the floor.
"Still lying! Who else would slip Lawrence sleeping pills? You're jealous that Vivian can give this family a son!"
"Someone get in here. Drag her outside and make her kneel! She can come back when she's ready to admit what she did!"
Benedict rushed in and stepped between us. "Mom, it's snowing outside. Phoebe just got through her postpartum recovery."
Naomi's lip curled. "You're still protecting this wretch? Keep it up and she'll drive Vivian to an early grave. How would you face your brother's spirit? How would you face our ancestors?"
There was a time when Naomi couldn't say a single harsh word about me before Benedict would push back. Now he just stood there.
His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "Phoebe, just apologize to Vivian."
I laughed. Tears spilled down my cheeks. "If I told you I didn't do it, would you believe me?"
Benedict looked at me with something close to disappointment. "They found sleeping pills outside the attic, Phoebe. What am I supposed to believe?"
The servants forced me to my knees in the snow. The cold bit through to the bone, spreading from my kneecaps through every inch of my body. My lips went white. My abdomen cramped in waves, each one dragging me closer to blacking out. I dug my nails into my palms just to stay conscious.
Inside the house, the warm glow of a happy family. Benedict was bouncing the baby in his arms. "Lawrence, Daddy's gonna make you fly!"
Vivian watched from the couch, smiling. "That's enough, Benedict. You'll scare him."
Benedict grinned. "My son? No way. A Young man doesn't scare that easy."
Every word was a blade dipped in ice, plunging into my chest one after another, until there was nothing left but raw, bleeding ruin.
