In the heat of our argument, Sloane “accidentally” spilled her red wine all over me.
When Lachlan saw it, he cut the meeting short in front of all the executives. He strode right past me to take Sloane’s hand, examining it as if terrified a shard of glass had grazed her skin.
He asked coldly, "What happened?"
Lachlan's subordinates turned pale with fear.
I knew how ruthless Lachlan could be, but I also knew he'd never lay a hand on me.
So I stepped forward. “We had a disagreement,” I stated coolly. “She deserved it.”
Sloane, tears welling in her eyes, leaned against Lachlan, looking aggrieved. She whispered, "It's my fault, I just wanted to say hello to Mrs. Shaw and ask after her health…"
Lachlan gently patted her back. "Don't be upset," he soothed. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."
He really was different with her.
I looked away, refusing to watch them. I composed myself and stated my purpose. "Today is my birthday. I need five hundred thousand dollars."
Yes, all I wanted was the fee for one course of treatment, just enough to dull the pain of my final days.
How pathetic. I was his legal wife, yet I had to beg for every dollar.
In the past, he’d give me any amount without a second thought. This time, he sneered. "You want money? Fine. First, you will apologize to Sloane."
This was the first time he had used money to humiliate me for another woman. He was willing to spend half a million dollars just to see Sloane smile at my expense.
My fists clenched. After a long silence, a soft, bitter laugh escaped my lips.
Forcing back the sharp pain lancing through me, I turned and walked away. I didn't want the money anymore.
Would he ever regret this? Would he ever know this money could have bought me a less painful death?
So, I went home alone. The relentless pain from my neurological disease forced me to curl up in bed. With no money for medication, I had to rely on sleeping pills to find some semblance of peace.
As I slept, I dreamed of being eighteen. Back then, Lachlan had nothing, but he loved me with a fierceness that left no room for doubt. We were so poor we could only afford to share a small slice of apple pie from the bakery on our little town's main street.
He drew me toward the window of Seattle's most exclusive restaurant, pointing at the exquisite desserts and lavish decor inside.
Lachlan held me tight, his own eyes glistening. "One day, when I'm rich," he promised, "I'll give you everything. I'll make you my one and only princess."
At that moment, I was the happiest woman in the world.
In a daze, I heard my phone ring. I answered, my head still fuzzy, and a deep, familiar voice called my name. “Cora.”
I smiled and answered gently, "Lachlan… I want a slice of apple pie."
