Kaitlin POV:
I sat in the cold hospital bed, my body still protesting every movement, but my mind was sharper than it had been in weeks. The dull ache of grief was being rapidly replaced by a searing anger. I scrolled through my phone, staring at the torrent of social media posts. The world, it seemed, was still captivated by the "Morgan family crisis."
Then I saw it. A video, posted just hours ago by Holly Morgan herself. My stomach churned. I clicked on it.
The scene was opulent. A private suite in a Swiss clinic, lavishly decorated, bathed in soft, flattering light. Holly, draped in silk, reclined on a chaise lounge, looking pale but exquisitely beautiful. Jayson and Elliott were there, one on each side of her, their faces etched with what the captions called "devotion." Jayson held a rare, exotic flower to Holly's nose, a supposedly potent remedy for her "severe allergic reaction." Elliott gently stroked her forehead.
"My heroes," Holly simpered, her voice a fragile whisper, her eyes fluttering up at them. "You saved me. I don't know what I'd do without you both."
The comments below were a sickening chorus of adoration. "Such devoted brothers!" "What a family bond!" "True love, protecting their precious sister."
My gaze was drawn to Holly's belly. It was barely a bump, but she strategically placed her hand over it, eyes wide with a carefully practiced innocence, looking at Jayson. A silent, sickening message. A promise I could no longer make.
A knot formed in my stomach. That flower. That rare, expensive flower. I had asked Jayson for something similar, a specialized herbal remedy for my difficult pregnancy, something to ease the constant nausea and pain. He had dismissed it as an "unnecessary extravagance." He told me to just "power through it." He had said no. But for Holly's staged emergency, no expense was too great.
A few comments stood out, tiny pinpricks of doubt in the overwhelming praise. "Wait, where are the wives?" one person asked. "Aren't Kaitlin and Jayde due any day now?" But these questions were quickly buried under a deluge of fawning replies and Holly's carefully curated image of fragile vulnerability. The narrative was clear: Holly was the priority. We were forgotten.
Then my phone buzzed again. A private message. From Holly. My fingers trembled as I opened it.
It was a picture. The same picture from the video, but closer, more intimate. Jayson kissing Holly' s forehead, Elliott holding her hand, her tiny bump strategically visible. And a caption that made my blood run cold: "Some bonds are just stronger, aren't they, dear Kaitlin? Some people are just more irreplaceable. Your little 'accident' was so inconvenient. But don't worry, the Morgans will have their heir. And we'll be sure to send you a birth announcement."
My phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the sterile floor. The sound was deafening in the sudden silence of my rage. Inconvenient. My dead baby was an inconvenient accident.
I remembered Jayson' s dismissive tone, his cold indifference when I told him about my struggles, the constant fear for my pregnancy. He had denied me comfort, denied me care, all while showering Holly with every luxury for a lie. The hypocrisy was a bitter taste in my mouth, acrid and suffocating.
"Kaitlin?" Jayde's voice was weak, but full of concern. She had heard my phone fall. "What is it?"
I picked up the phone, my hands shaking, and showed her the message. Her eyes, already red-rimmed from crying, widened in horror. "That bitch," she whispered, her voice laced with pure venom. "She sent me the same thing."
Jayde looked at the picture, at Elliott's tender hand on Holly's, at his adoring gaze. Her own mangled hands, still swollen and useless, seemed to scream in contrast. The video had captured Jayson and Elliott as a picture of a devoted, complete family unit with Holly at its center, perfectly replacing us. They were her saviors, her protectors. Her husbands.
"That expensive herbal remedy," I rasped, the words thick with fury. "The one Jayson wouldn't get for me, because it was 'too much'? That's what he's giving her. For a fake allergy."
The unfairness of it all, the sheer, audacious cruelty, hit me with the force of a physical blow. My vision blurred, not with tears, but with a red haze of pure, unadulterated rage. They hadn't just abandoned us; they had rubbed our faces in it, flaunting their loyalty to the very person who had orchestrated our downfall.
"I can't anymore," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet vibrating with a terrifying intensity. "I can't stay here. I can't exist in a world where they get to prance around, playing the devoted heroes, while we're left broken and dying."
Jayde nodded slowly, her eyes hard. "They think we're weak. They think we'll just lie down and take it." A cold, dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. "Let's prove them wrong. Let's make them regret the day they chose her over us. Let's make them lose everything."
A plan, cold and precise, began to form in my mind, fueled by the unimaginable pain and betrayal. "They want an heir?" I murmured, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "They want the Morgan legacy? They just lost it. All of it."
Jayde gripped my uninjured arm, her strength surprising. "What do we do?"
"We leave," I declared, sitting up, ignoring the throbbing pain. "But not quietly. We leave with a bang. And we make sure that when the dust settles, they have nothing left but each other and the ruins of their empire."
We started plotting. The first step: get out. And then, we would deal with Holly. And with Jayson and Elliott. They had chosen their path. Now, it was time for them to face the consequences, consequences far darker and more irreversible than they could ever imagine. They had no idea what they had unleashed. They thought they had broken us. They had only forged us into something far more dangerous.
