"Which one?"
"Oh, you know, his little mistress. The one they call his 'god-sister'—Martha McClain. She's something else. Came in for a full checkup because she had a hangnail she couldn't clip properly."
"And then there are others. Like that one." One of the nurses subtly jerked her chin in my direction.
"A while back, she was rushed in past midnight, hemorrhaging. From admission to discharge, not a single person came to see her. They incinerated the fetus and nobody even cared. Poor thing..."
My hand drifted to my lower abdomen without thinking.
That baby. William and I had both looked forward to her arrival once.
Even after William stopped caring, I'd still held on to that hope.
But maybe it was better this way. She was gone, and now I could leave with nothing tying me down.
I headed home to grab my travel documents.
But the moment I stepped through the door, I sensed something was off.
Martha was draped around William like a vine, coiled against his chest. Her eyes were red and swollen, as though she'd been crying.
The second she saw me, she pointed a finger straight at me.
"Serena, just because you married William doesn't mean you can challenge my sister's place in his heart!"
"Where did you hide my sister's photo? Give it back. Now!"
Ever since I'd married William, Martha had picked fights every other day.
One time she claimed I'd hired thugs to ambush her.
Another time she said I was the one leaking dirt about her on social media.
In the beginning, William still believed my explanations.
Later, he'd just watch me cry with cold indifference, then assign another dozen bodyguards to Martha's detail.
He'd brush me off with the same line.
"Her sister took good care of me. Now that her sister's gone, I owe it to her to look after Martha."
Even after I'd caught the two of them in bed together, I'd been naive enough to believe him.
Martha watched me standing there, seemingly at a loss for words, and a smug little smile tugged at her lips.
Then she heard me speak.
"Maybe your sister found out from beyond the grave that you've been seducing her ex-husband. Maybe she's the angry one."
"What did you just say?!"
Martha stormed toward me in her little heels, arm raised in fury.
Before the slap could land, I caught her wrist and gave her the gentlest push forward.
Just as I expected.
I hadn't used an ounce of force, but Martha crumpled into William's arms, instantly playing up a twisted ankle.
Her eyes glistened with tears.
"William, my foot hurts so badly. What if I can never dance again?"
"But my sister loved watching me dance..."
Sister. That word was the trigger. It never failed.
William's gaze turned glacial in an instant. The chill of it cut straight through me.
"Martha's still young. Why do you have to start things with her?"
"If you didn't take it, you didn't take it. You think I'd accuse you for no reason?"
I almost fired back. Accuse me for no reason? When has that ever stopped you?
But then I thought about our wedding night, how he'd snuck glances at that dead woman's portrait when he thought I wasn't looking.
How he'd actually gone behind my back to consult a fortune teller, asking whether marrying me was what had caused her death.
All the fight drained out of me.
"Apologize to Martha. If you won't—"
William didn't get to finish. He watched me bend at the waist in a deep bow.
"I'm sorry."
He blinked, caught off guard.
He'd probably forgotten. I'd lost every shred of pride a long time ago in this place.
The last time I'd refused to apologize, I'd been held down in the cold spring in December for thirty-six hours.
Martha had supervised personally, watching me with a smile.
"A homeless nobody from the mainland comes to Harbor City, she follows Harbor City rules."
Honestly? I was terrified of the cold.
My bow brought that familiar curl back to Martha's lips. She lifted her chin.
"The jade earrings. Take them off and give them to me."
