I lowered my gaze. I'd seen it on my phone just two days ago—the car accident near Rivergate Bridge. The victim was Tilda Pruitt. And the very first thing he did after his "release" was drag me here to donate blood for his mistress.
"Mick Weiss, how much longer were you planning to lie to me?"
I shoved the photos I'd taken that day right in front of his face.
"You lied about prison. You lied about the company going bankrupt. So why couldn't you even bother lying properly to the end?"
"A man who supposedly went bankrupt two years ago, and the day he gets out of prison he's driving a Porsche?"
"And that suit—worth more than most people make in a month. You couldn't even find something cheap to play the part?"
The more I said, the bleaker my expression became, until I was laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"Mick Weiss, you changed your release date."
"Just so I'd come donate blood for Tilda Pruitt. That's all this was, wasn't it?"
Mick went rigid. Panic flashed across his face before he forced himself back to calm.
He let out a long, slow breath.
"Didn't expect you to figure it out."
"Fine. Since you know, I won't hide it anymore."
"These past two years, I wasn't in prison. I was with Tilly—her and our son."
"Tilly said she wanted to know what it felt like to be my wife. So for two full years, I was completely hers."
"But I promised that once the agreed time was up, I'd come back to the family. You'd still be my wife."
"As for Benny, he'll be my heir. You can raise him as your own."
I stood frozen, my whole body nearly shaking. "Why? Why would you do this to me?"
"I could have given you a child. So why did you go have one with her?"
Mick's smile turned cruel.
"You wanting another child is never going to happen."
"What do you mean?"
"After the nanny gave birth, I got a vasectomy."
"I swore to her that Benny would be my only child. Ever."
Before I could process it, I was brought to a hospital room. I watched Mick rush to Tilda's bedside, his face tight with worry.
Then he turned and ordered me without a shred of hesitation. "Desiree. Give her your blood."
"If Tilly wakes up, I'll end the punishment. You can go back to being Mrs. Weiss—all the status, all the luxury, starting today."
That tone. As if he were granting me a favor.
"And if I refuse?"
Mick's expression went cold. "Then don't blame me for what happens next."
One look from him was all it took. A wall of bodyguards surged forward and pinned me in place, their faces blank.
They forced me to give blood.
I watched bag after bag filled and carried out, and with each one my body hollowed a little more, the color bleeding from my face along with everything else.
Mick sighed. The way he looked at me softened, just slightly.
"Desiree, come on now. Be good for me."
"I promise, once Tilda wakes up, whatever terms you want, I'll agree to all of them."
I stared at him, ice in my eyes. "Even... dying with me?"
His whole body locked. His brow furrowed hard. "Don't joke about that."
He glanced down at his phone. "Get some rest. I'm going to check on Tilly."
He was gone in a stride. Tilda didn't wake until that evening.
By then I had the fruit knife in my hand, and I was already moving toward her room.
"Desiree Gilbert?"
Tilda's eyes opened and found me standing there. She went still.
"I heard you're the one who saved me. I really should thank you. Though I have to say, these past two years I've been taking very good care of your husband, too."
"Shut up."
I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer. "Tilda Pruitt, I've never been able to figure it out. I never wronged you. We had no grudge between us. So why? Why would you do this to me?"
