They Stole My Daughter's Heart , So I Destroyed Them All

The day after my daughter died on the operating table, I went home to pack up her things. Without warning, a wave of nausea surged through me.

I stared at the two lines on the pregnancy test, and the tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.

I had just lost one child. Was this heaven's way of giving me another? Grief and disbelief crashed into each other inside my chest.

Her toys were still scattered around the house, as if they still held the warmth of her little fingers. I wanted to gather them all and bring them to my room, to keep something of her close.

But while I was moving things, I accidentally bumped the smart speaker. It had been her favorite. She used to record messages on it every day, telling me everything she'd done.

I played the last recording. I just wanted to hear her voice.

"Amber Fox is such an idiot. I tricked her into signing the surgical consent form. Once our baby is better, we'll take the money and start a new life together."

That wasn't my daughter's voice. I knew that voice better than almost any other. It was my adopted sister, Mabel Fox.

"Thank God the heart was a match for yours. Otherwise you'd both be dead, and if I lost you two, I wouldn't know how to go on." Then came the ragged breathing of my husband, Guy James.

The color drained from my face. I stood frozen, staring at the speaker on the nightstand, my legs nearly giving out beneath me.

I scraped together every last shred of composure I had and rushed back to the funeral. I was ready to confront them.

But the moment I arrived, Mabel walked in carrying a small bouquet of white chrysanthemums and a paper bag.

"Amber, I brought you a gift. I hope you won't be too sad."

The first item was Guy James's vasectomy certificate.

The second was a prenatal checkup report. Mabel Fox, three months pregnant.

"As for the third," she leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear, "it's the consent form for your daughter's heart transplant. Don't you remember? The contract you signed that night when you were drunk?"

My hands shook violently. I swayed on my feet and raised my hand to slap her across the face.

But before I could, my mother collapsed beside me with a heavy thud. I abandoned everything else and called an ambulance.

Looking at my mother's unconscious face, I couldn't take it anymore. I dialed the number.

"Listen to me. Seven days. I want them destroyed."

A pause. Then:

"You should have done this a long time ago. I told you back then that man was no good. I'll help you. Seven days from now, I'll come for you."

I bit down on my lower lip until the taste of blood spread across my tongue. Only then could I force the sob back down my throat.

"Start by drafting a divorce agreement for me."

The voice on the other end agreed. The tears I'd been fighting spilled over, and I hung up.

The phone slipped from my fingers. I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders trembling.

I had been married to Guy James for five years.

Since high school, I'd loved him for a full decade. No one knew how overjoyed I was when he proposed. No one could have.

He was the James family's illegitimate son, raised on cruelty and contempt, and it had forged him into something cold and guarded, armored against the world.

But I threw myself at those walls anyway. I believed love could melt the ice.

Everyone said Guy James was crazy about me. That if I asked for the stars, he'd find a way to pluck them from the sky and lay them at my feet.

Now I knew it was all a lie.

Seven days ago, I watched my beautiful daughter wheeled out of the operating room under a white sheet.

"We're sorry, Mrs. James. There was a complication during surgery. We did everything we could."

In that moment, it felt like a massive hand had reached into my chest and torn my heart clean in half. The pain was so sharp I couldn't breathe.

With trembling hands, I slowly lifted the sheet. I touched her cold little face, and the tears I'd been holding back flooded out.

I pressed my cheek against hers. My eyes went hollow. My arms locked around her thin, small body and would not let go.

My daughter had always been healthy. How could a minor surgery go wrong?

The odds of a complication were almost nonexistent. Why did it have to be my daughter?

The medical staff tried to wheel her away. I threw myself at the gurney like a woman possessed, my voice so raw it barely made a sound. "Don't take her! Give me back my daughter..."

I pulled out my phone to call Guy, who was supposed to be in a meeting. He could fix this. He could bring her back.

I called ninety-nine times. He didn't pick up once.

Finally, on the hundredth call, he answered.

"Amber, I'm in a meeting. I'll call you back." His voice came through hoarse and breathless.

Before I could get a word out, a woman's voice floated through the speaker.

"Come on, let's go get Thai food on the south side. That place is so popular. If we don't hurry, we'll have to wait in line."

I knew that voice. I knew it as well as my own. My adopted sister. The woman who held his heart.

The line went dead.

Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. I stood in that vast, freezing hospital corridor, phone clutched in my hand, and the world went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed. My chest felt like someone had pressed a white-hot brand against it, a suffocating, smoldering ache.

Guy's assistant stood at my bedside, his tone careful. "Mrs. James, Mr. James asked me to let you know the funeral will be held this afternoon. He'd like you to get ready."

My pupils contracted. I ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand, grabbed the assistant by his collar, and yanked him toward me. "Where is my daughter? Where is he?"

"Mr. James already took her, ma'am. He said he'd handle the funeral arrangements. He didn't want you to overexert yourself."

My fingers uncurled, one by one. I fell back against the bed, hollow.

I checked myself out and went home to sort through my daughter's belongings.

The moment I stepped into her room and picked up the little dress she'd loved most, a sharp acid burn shot from my stomach to my throat.

I stumbled into the bathroom and retched over the toilet, but nothing came up except bile.

A single thought flashed through my mind.

Gripping the cold edge of the sink, I stared down at the pregnancy test with shaking hands.

I was pregnant.

I stared at the two red lines, my stomach lurching.

Was this a gift from God?

A flicker of joy sparked inside me, only to be swallowed whole by the grief of losing my daughter.

My daughter had left me just yesterday.

I forced myself to push open the door to her room, tears brimming as I packed her toys into a box, one by one.

Then I saw the smart speaker sitting on her nightstand. The tears spilled instantly. My hands trembled as I picked it up.

She used to record her day on this speaker, little updates and things she wanted to tell me. Every night before bed, she'd curl up on my lap and play them back, beaming the whole time.

I raised my stiff hand and tapped the last recording, desperate to hear her voice, to pretend she was still beside me.

But the voice that came through wasn't my daughter's. It was Mabel's breathy moan.

"Baby, thank God Amber's such an idiot. She got so wasted she didn't even realize she signed her own daughter's heart transplant consent form."

What did that mean?

My legs buckled. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, my eyes locked on the speaker.

It came flooding back. A week ago, Mabel had come to me with a glass of wine, wanting to talk. She kept pouring, glass after glass, until my head was swimming and she guided my hand across a piece of paper to sign my name.

I was the one who killed my daughter.

My hands shook violently. The speaker slipped from my grip and hit the floor. I pressed my palms over my ears, choking on the pain.

"I'd give up everything for you and our baby. Amber means nothing. I only want you two. At least her daughter's heart is good for something..."

Then came Guy's ragged panting.

I had believed I'd found my way into his heart. Only now did I understand that the person he would give up everything for had never been me.

Every scrap of happiness I thought I'd had was nothing more than overflow from Guy's love for Mabel. Scraps tossed my way from a feast that was never mine.

My heart seized as though an ice-cold fist had clamped around it and twisted. The pain bent me double. I couldn't breathe.

A voice broke through from outside the door. "Ma'am, if we don't leave now, we'll miss the funeral."

I bit down hard, swallowing the urge to tear Guy apart with my bare hands. I copied the last recording from the speaker, steadied myself on shaking legs, and left with the assistant for the funeral.

The service was nearly over. I had just worked up the nerve to confront Guy when Mabel appeared, a hint of a smile in her eyes, carrying a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

Her face wore a mask of tender concern. Then she opened the bag and pulled out the papers inside, one by one.

"Big sis, I brought you three gifts. You're going to love them."

She handed me the first sheet, smiling sweetly. "Gift number one: Guy's vasectomy certificate."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

I stared at the cold date printed on the report. My nails dug into my palm hard enough to draw blood, but I felt nothing.

The date of the procedure was right there in black and white: the day after my daughter died.

Mabel looked me up and down, savoring my ashen face, then placed the second report directly into my hands. She lowered her gaze and stroked her stomach.

"I'm three months pregnant. It's Guy's."

In that moment, it felt like someone was slowly siphoning every last molecule of air from my lungs.

Three months ago was when my daughter's checkup results had come back wrong. The doctor said it was minor, but she'd need surgery to fix it completely.

That night, I'd cried in Guy's arms. I hadn't seen the flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Leave everything to me."

His touch had been so gentle when he comforted me that night.

Now I understood. His "everything" had never included me or my child.

Mabel's warm, venomous breath against my ear dragged me back. She leaned in close, whispering with quiet triumph.

"All I did was mention to Guy that my heart wasn't in great shape, and he arranged the compatibility testing immediately. Your daughter was lucky, really, being a match for me. And the transplant consent? Signed by your own hand."

Each word was a blade, stabbing into the place that hurt most.

"Oh, and there's nothing in that casket, by the way. Your daughter's probably still on the operating table, making herself useful. Hearts aren't the only organs worth good money."

My body shook. The last thread holding my mind together snapped.

What did she just say?

A dull thud.

I raised my hand to slap her across the face, but the sound of something heavy hitting the ground stopped me.

I whipped around. My mother's face was white as chalk, crumpled on the floor.

"Mom!"

Nothing else mattered. I threw myself to her side, fumbling for my phone with trembling hands, and called an ambulance.

I barely remember how I got to the hospital. I watched my unconscious mother disappear through the operating room doors, and I felt as though I were sinking into an endless darkness.

The man I loved had betrayed me and murdered my daughter.

Tears blurred my vision, but I knew I couldn't sit here and do nothing any longer.

Seven days. In seven days, they would pay for every last thing they'd done.

Several hours later, my mother was wheeled into the ICU.

"Ma'am, the surgery was a success, but your mother hasn't regained consciousness yet. She'll need to stay in the ICU for observation for a week."

The doctor's words nearly buckled my knees. I stood on the other side of the glass, staring at my mother's body threaded with tubes, my palm pressed flat against the cold surface. Only then did I let myself breathe.

She was all I had left. And thank God, luck hadn't abandoned her entirely. She was still here.

I was about to go into the ICU to see her when Mabel's syrupy voice slithered into my ears.

"Oh, Amber, we saw Auntie collapse at the funeral, so we came to check on her."

She stood in front of me, eyes glittering with provocation, every syllable dripping contempt.

Behind her stood my brother, Max Fox, and Guy.

"Mainly here to check on her condition. After all, Mabel is my most cherished little sister." Max's gaze swept over me with undisguised disgust. "Unlike a certain piece of trash."

I stood rooted to the spot. Every ounce of grief inside me curdled into a single bitter smile.

Max and I were the products of our father's drunken indiscretions.

Our mother had fought tooth and nail to keep us alive. It was only years later that the Fox family finally took us in.

The first year after we returned to the family, Max and I were kidnapped on the way home from school by people with a grudge against the Foxes. They locked us in a pitch-black shack in the mountains.

The kidnappers pressed guns to our foreheads and told the family to pay the ransom and pick one child to take home.

The family chose Max.

I was shaking so hard I couldn't stand. Max pulled me into his arms and held on like his life depended on it.

"I'll stay. Let my sister go."

His voice trembled, but he said every word with absolute certainty.

He defied the family's decision without a second's hesitation. He chose me.

I believed that kind of bond, forged in the shadow of death, was unbreakable.

Then Mabel and her mother walked through our door, and everything changed.

On Max's birthday, I baked him a cake with my own hands.

We blew out the candles together. I cut the first slice, and we shared it.

Then a searing pain ripped through my stomach. Max collapsed right in front of me.

We were both rushed to the hospital. Poison.

My dose had been smaller. After a day unconscious, I regained enough strength to rip out my IV and go find him.

Outside the emergency room, I saw his eyes flutter open. Relief hit me so hard my legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor.

But the very next moment, Mabel appeared with a group of people carrying several half-used packets of poison and sedatives, along with a recording.

"These were all found in Amber's bedroom and her mother's room. Their fingerprints are on the packages, and this recording proves Amber is the one who poisoned him."

My voice came through the recording, clear as day: "How come he didn't die in that kidnapping? Mom told the kidnappers to kill him. This time, I'll make sure he's dead for good!"

Max lay on the gurney, his face whiter than the sheets beneath him.

He looked at me, and something behind his eyes shattered completely.

"Amber Fox..." His voice was raw, scraped hollow. "I traded my life for yours. And you wanted me dead this whole time?"

"So during that kidnapping, your mother already wanted me gone." A cold, broken laugh left his lips.

"Max, it wasn't me! The recording is fake!"

"Get out."

He closed his eyes and refused to look at me again.

"From now on, you and your mother are nothing to me."

From that day forward, I went from being the sister he'd risked his life to protect to the person he despised most in the world.

The shards of that memory were still lodged in my throat when Max's voice cut through, cold as a slab of ice.

"Amber, Mabel's health still hasn't recovered. And since your mother doesn't have long to live anyway, we might as well use her heart to continue Mabel's treatment."

"What?!"

I looked up at Max, stunned. "You've lost your mind!"

"This is my final gift to you. Did you like it? All I had to do was tell him I wasn't feeling well, and your dear brother immediately suggested sacrificing your daughter for the treatment. That's the wonderful brother you've got."

Mabel leaned in close to my ear, her voice soft and dripping with satisfaction.

"Just think about it. Your child, your mother, all gone. Would that break you?"

I stared at her, my voice shaking. "What do you want from me?"

"Don't test me. I could arrange for your mother to have a little accident right here in this hospital."

The word accident hit me like a spark landing in hot oil.

"Mabel!"

My hand flew before I could think, connecting hard with her face.

Crack.

Mabel stumbled back two steps, clutching her cheek as she crumpled into Guy's arms, eyes glistening with perfectly manufactured tears.

"I was only asking about your mother's health, and you hit me! How could you, Amber?"

"Amber! You're insane!" Guy's head snapped up, fury blazing in his eyes. "Mabel was kind enough to bring us here to visit your mother, and you slap her out of jealousy? Apologize. Now."

He turned back to Mabel, cradling her with a tenderness I had never once seen directed at me. Every gentle murmur, every careful touch, all reserved for her.

Tears slipped down my face before I could stop them, slowly hardening into a bitter smile.

This was the man I'd loved for ten years.

He hadn't asked me for a single explanation. One sentence from Mabel, and he'd turned on me like I was the enemy.

"She threatened my mother! She's the one who killed my daughter!"

"Shut your mouth!"

Guy rose to his feet. His hand came down across my face with full force.

The blow snapped my head to the side. My ears rang. Pain exploded through my cheekbone, and I crumpled to the floor.

Tears streamed down my face. I would never forget how heavy that slap was. The humiliation spread through me like poison, seeping into every corner of my chest.

Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth in feigned shock. But I saw it clearly: the smile curling at the corners of her lips. Victory.

I pressed my trembling fingers to my burning cheek.

Guy stood frozen for a moment after striking me, his arm hanging stiff at his side. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something.

Then Mabel whimpered in his arms, crying out in pain, and whatever flicker of hesitation he'd had vanished. He scooped her up and rushed toward the emergency room without a backward glance.

I sat on the cold hospital floor, every ounce of hatred and agony collapsing into one hollow, bitter smile.

I didn't know how long I stayed there before I finally dragged myself to my feet and walked home on numb legs, mechanical as a wind-up toy winding down.

At the front door, I picked up the divorce papers and placed them on the nightstand.

Seven days. Seven more days, and I'd be free. I didn't hesitate.

I pulled open the dresser drawers and started tossing clothes into a suitcase.

I had just folded the last piece when the door opened behind me.

"Amber? What are you doing?" Guy's voice cut through the room.

I didn't turn around. My voice came out dry and flat. "Just reorganizing the closet."

His gaze swept across the mess of the room. He was about to speak when another voice interrupted, thin and fragile.

"Guy, I'm scared of the dark. Could I stay in this room?"

Mabel.

I went rigid. I turned and saw two suitcases standing behind Guy in the doorway.

He wheeled them inside without a trace of shame. "Mabel is pregnant and she's been through a terrible scare. She needs someone looking after her. You hit her today, so you'll serve as her caretaker for the next month. You'll attend to her every need."

He met my eyes as if what he was saying were the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Give up the master bedroom. Move to the maid's quarters."

"The servants' quarters?"

I stared at Guy in disbelief.

His jaw was clenched tight. "Once Mabel's baby is born, you can move back."

I looked up at the man I'd loved for so long, my eyes flooding with tears.

I had given him everything.

And he wanted me to wait on the woman who'd killed my daughter. To serve the bastard child growing in her belly.

My nails dug into my palms. Blood rushed to my head, a deafening buzz filling my ears.

I stared at the murderer standing in front of me, rage swelling inside me like a living thing.

I raised my hand, but Guy's voice cut through, dripping with menace. "Don't forget your mother is still in the hospital."

My hand froze midair. The words struck like lightning.

My mother was all I had left. Nothing could happen to her.

My nails bit deeper into my palms, holding back the fury by sheer will. My voice trembled. "Fine. But I have some documents that need your signature."

I grabbed the papers from the nightstand and slipped the divorce agreement in among them.

Guy snatched them impatiently. He was about to read through them when Mabel interrupted.

"Guy, I don't like these decorations. I want them replaced with something else..."

So he scrawled his signature in a rush and tossed the papers into my arms.

I looked down at the documents pressed against my chest, bitterness rising in my throat.

Tears blurred my vision as I watched Mabel sweep the ornaments into the trash. My heart felt crushed in a giant fist, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

Every single piece in that bedroom was something Guy and I had spent hours choosing together. When he'd placed them on the shelves, he'd pulled me close and taken a photo with each one. In those pictures, his eyes had been soft, brimming with love.

Now all that love belonged to Mabel.

The bitterness slowly settled into something cold and still. I wiped my tears, turned, and walked out.

I dialed the first number in my contacts.

"I need you to finalize the divorce proceedings. And start acquiring shares in James Group."

Everything Guy cared about most, I was going to take it all.

That night, I lay on the narrow bed in the servants' quarters, my heart frozen solid, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

When the sky outside the window began to lighten, I forced myself up and pulled on the maid's uniform. I stood before the mirror.

The woman staring back had swollen red eyes and tangled hair, looking no better than a stray dog.

Was this really me?

The door burst open. Bodyguards flooded in and dragged me to Mabel.

Something cruel and amused flickered behind her eyes. She seized my arm, her grip bruising. "Oh, sister. Still here, clinging on with that shameless face of yours? Why bother occupying a place that was never yours?" She let out a little laugh. "Silly me, I forgot. You're so in love with Guy, you just can't bear to leave."

Before I could get a single word out, she raised her voice. "Someone, grab her!"

The guards swarmed in, locking my arms on both sides.

Their grip was crushing, enough to splinter bone. A vicious kick buckled my knees, and white-hot pain shot straight through my skull as I crashed to the floor.

I clenched my teeth so hard they ached, forcing words through the gap. "What the hell do you want, Mabel?"

"Let's make a little wager, sister. Let's see who Guy really cares about most."

Mabel pulled a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. She grabbed my chin and forced the wine into my mouth.

I was severely allergic to alcohol.

I clamped my jaw shut with everything I had, but the liquid still poured down my throat and into my stomach.

A searing burn blazed from my throat to my gut, then spread through my entire body.

Within seconds, my skin flushed red and began to swell. Clusters of blisters crawled up my arms and crept along my neck.

Then she ordered the guards to drag me to the edge of the swimming pool. From behind her back, she produced my daughter's keepsake locket, the one she'd worn since birth.

"Don't you touch that!"

My vision was already blurring, my throat swelling shut. I thrashed against the guards despite the agony tearing through me, my voice raw with desperation.

Mabel leaned in close to my ear, her whisper dripping with venom. "Amber Fox, why should you get a brother who adores you? A good husband? Everything you have, I'm going to take it all."

Then came the splash. She flung the locket into the pool.

"No!"

The fury that erupted gave me a strength I didn't know I had. I tore free of the guards, grabbed Mabel by the collar, and hauled her into the water. "Who gave you permission to throw that? Since you did, you're going to find it for me!"

Water exploded around us. I fought through the pain and shoved Mabel beneath the surface, searching frantically for the locket at the same time.

My arms swept blindly through the water. My fingertips scraped the tile at the bottom, but there was no cold metal.

Where... where was it...

The allergic reaction was tearing through me. My whole body shook. Each breath came harder than the last.

The water's surface warped and blurred before my eyes. My throat had swollen so tight I could barely draw air.

Mabel's thrashing and sputtering filled my ears, broken fragments of a scream. "Help... help me... Guy..."

Then a large hand clamped around my wrist and wrenched me off her.

A searing pain ripped through my stomach as Guy's foot slammed into me, sending me flying.

Water erupted around me. My consciousness began to sink. I thrashed, slapping the surface with everything I had, screaming with the last of my strength: "Guy!"

But he only held the woman in his arms tighter. He didn't look back.

My body drifted downward into the pool. I thought of three months ago, when I'd gone skiing and been caught in an avalanche, trapped in the mountains. Guy had charged in without hesitation, pulling my hypothermic body from the snow.

"Amber, I'll always protect you. Whenever you call my name, I'll be right there."

All lies.

Every last word.

Soon, they would pay for everything they'd done.

When I opened my eyes again, a hospital ceiling stared back at me. I'd barely twitched my fingers when that grating voice slithered into my ears.

"You're finally awake. So you're pregnant." Mabel looked me up and down, a loaded smile curling at the corner of her lips. "You should take good care of that baby, sis."

I wrapped my arms around my stomach on instinct and turned my head. Mabel's contemptuous gaze met mine. She stood there like a victor claiming her spoils, then reached out and seized my chin, fingers digging in hard. "Looks like your husband cares about me more after all, doesn't he, sis?"

I stared into her eyes. I'd expected bitterness to flood through me. Instead, my heart was a stagnant pool. Nothing stirred. Not a single ripple.

When I said nothing, the smile on Mabel's face nearly cracked. "I stole Guy from you. You don't have anything to say about that?"

I reached up and pried her fingers off my chin, one by one, my gaze dripping with mockery. "Say what? You want me to throw a fit? Wail and beg? Not going to happen."

"You stole a piece of trash. Why would I be upset? Congratulations on recycling someone else's garbage."

Mabel hadn't expected that. The smile vanished entirely, replaced by raw fury burning behind her eyes. "Amber, a sharp tongue won't help you. You still couldn't protect your own child or your mother."

She stepped closer, her expression vicious. "And this baby? Don't think for a second you're keeping it."

The mention of my daughter sent a spike of pain through my chest. My nails dug into my palms until the skin nearly broke. My body trembled, and no words would come.

But that wasn't the reaction she wanted. Her lips curled again. "I've prepared a big surprise for you, sis. When you see it, you'll lose your mind."

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked out.

I stared at the doorway long after she disappeared, her words circling through my head on a loop.

What was she going to do to my mother? What was she going to do to the baby inside me?

I couldn't let myself think about it, but the images clawed their way in anyway.

I didn't know how long I sat there before I realized my face was soaked with tears.

I wiped them away with a shaking hand, picked up my phone, and dialed the number.

My voice was hoarse, but every word came out razor-clear. "Wallace, get the divorce certificate processed and send it straight to James Group headquarters. And look into Mabel's financial records."

"I'll come for you the day after tomorrow."

After I hung up, I stared at the IV drip. Pain radiated from my stomach. The space where my heart should have been felt hollow, cavernous, wrong.

But the longer the pain lasted, the more numb I became. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, nothing remained but cold resolve.

Discharge day came. I gathered my things and had barely stepped through the door when I saw Guy waiting outside, leaning against his car as if he'd been there a while.

His tone carried a thread of impatience. "It's your birthday. Mabel went out of her way to put together a party for you. Don't waste her kindness. I'm here to take you."

I sidestepped him without a word, a bitter smile ghosting across my face.

Every birthday before this, he'd been called away by one of Mabel's convenient little emergencies. Now he wanted to play the devoted husband?

My voice was flat. I frowned and refused.

"I'm not going."

Guy's expression darkened instantly. He didn't speak, but the silent pressure radiating off him was more suffocating than any threat.

He lifted a hand. Bodyguards moved in immediately, forcing me into the car and dragging me to the party.

The moment I was shoved through the doors of the banquet hall, Mabel swept toward me in a gown, all smiles, and placed a party hat on my head.

She played the part of the doting little sister to perfection, pressing a beautifully wrapped box into my hands, her voice honeyed and sweet. "Happy birthday, sis. I've been working on this gift for a long time. You're going to love it."

Every pair of eyes in the room settled on my hands, silently urging me to open it.

I lifted my gaze, cold and indifferent, and tore the wrapping apart.

Inside lay a single sheet of paper.

My mother's death certificate.

My vision went black. The report crumpled in my grip and slipped to the floor.

Tears spilled down my face, but no sound came out. I was a fish with a hand around its throat, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

My daughter was gone.

Now my mother was gone too.

The last person on this earth who loved me, and Mabel had killed her.

With my daughter and my mother both dead, what was left to be afraid of?

Mabel's coy laughter drifted to my ears. "Big sister, are you satisfied with your gift?"

I looked at the woman smiling prettily in front of me. Something savage filled my eyes, and the last thread of reason inside me snapped clean through.

I lunged and locked both hands around her throat, squeezing harder with every breath. "How did you kill my mother, Mabel? Like this?"

"You psycho!" Mabel shrieked beneath my grip, her face flushing a deep, mottled red.

That's right. I had lost my mind.

You murdered my mother. If I wasn't going to lose it, who would?

"Amber! Mabel gave you a gift out of the goodness of her heart, and this is how you repay her? Why do you always have to hurt her?"

The next instant, Guy shoved me to the ground. Pain tore through my lower spine like a blade.

He cradled Mabel in his arms as though she were the most precious thing in the world. The look he turned on me was the one you'd give a piece of trash.

I lay sprawled on the floor. And then, slowly, I laughed.

Ten years.

I had loved this man for ten years.

The first time he looked at me like that was the day Mabel and her mother walked through our door.

The first time he raised a hand to me was the day Mabel ran to him crying that I'd bullied her.

The first time he abandoned me without a second thought was the day Mabel screamed for help.

Again and again and again. He had never once chosen me.

It was his indulgence that let Mabel destroy everything I ever loved.

I pulled myself upright. My gaze locked onto Mabel, cold as a blade, and I raised my voice so every guest in the room could hear.

"Mabel, all that money Guy gave you, you funneled it straight into Max Fox's accounts. What's going on between you two? Some kind of affair?"

Guilt flickered across Mabel's face. She blurted out in a panic, "Don't make things up! The only man I care about is Guy!"

I let out a sharp, scornful laugh and turned to face the crowd. "You all heard that. My adopted sister just confessed she's in love with her brother-in-law."

Whispers ignited through the room like wildfire. Fingers pointed at Mabel.

"The Fox family's second daughter looks so sweet and innocent. Who knew she'd go after her own sister's husband?"

"Wait, hasn't the older sister even divorced Guy yet? Doesn't that make Mabel the other woman?"

I watched Mabel throw herself into Guy's arms, tears streaming prettily down her cheeks, and my stomach turned.

Guy soothed the woman clinging to him, then walked to the center of the banquet hall. He picked up a microphone, gazed at Mabel with eyes full of adoration, and spoke for every person in the room to hear.

"The only woman who will ever be my wife is Mabel. Amber Fox was always the interloper."

Just like that, the crowd's judgment swiveled onto me.

I watched the two of them with frozen eyes. Nothing stirred inside me anymore.

But when I heard the word interloper, I still smiled.

Interloper?

I met you when I was eighteen. I married you when I was twenty-two. Was I intruding on your little underground affair?

I couldn't be bothered to argue. I walked straight up to Mabel and demanded through clenched teeth, "Where is my mother's body?"

Mabel's lips curled in triumph. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and wrenched my head down, her voice dripping with venom. "Your mother? She's already been burned to ash. You want her? Go pick her up from the funeral home yourself."

A violent tremor ripped through my body. I said nothing. I tore myself free of her grip and ran for the exit.

I had barely climbed into a taxi when Mabel caught up, her fingers clamping onto the door like claws. "Sister, why are you leaving so soon? Didn't you like your present? I really do want you to be happy. Don't go. I'll give you my place. Just stay"

"Get off." I had no interest in performing in her little show. I looked at the driver, my voice flat and dead. "Drive."

The car had barely pulled away when Mabel darted in front of it, arms flung wide.

A split second later, the screech of brakes cut through the air. Not from the taxi.

From the Maybach behind us.

Guy's car.

CRASH.

The impact sent the taxi skidding sideways. My head slammed into the window glass, and the world turned red.

Through the blur, I saw Guy climb out of the Maybach and sprint toward Mabel.

He didn't so much as glance in my direction.

I closed my eyes. A bitter smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

The divorce papers should have been delivered by now.

Guy James, from this moment on, we are nothing to each other.