Chapter 1

My mother-in-law treated me like her own daughter. We were out shopping together when a truck barreled into us.

In that split second, she threw herself over me and took the brunt of the impact.

The trauma team had already started emergency transfusions, but they urgently needed blood matched to her rare antibodies. I called my husband ninety-nine times, begging him to stop interfering with the shipment. For more than two hours, doctors kept coming out to tell me they were running out of time. He never came.

When the red light above the operating room finally switched off, my heart froze.

Then I turned and saw Julian with his arm around his childhood sweetheart, Cheryl. A blood bank courier stood beside them with a sealed cooler. The last two matched units had been reserved for Cheryl.

I rushed toward him. "Tell them to send that blood to the OR! Mom is dying!"

Julian shoved me away violently, shielding Cheryl behind him.

"Cheryl has surgery tomorrow! Her leg cannot be put at risk!"

"Your mother has always been resilient. She can hold on a little longer. Cheryl's dancing career can't be delayed!"

I crashed onto the cold floor. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen, accompanied by a wave of sickening grief.

I looked at Cheryl. The cut on her leg was barely an inch long—already half-scabbed over.

A bitter laugh escaped me. He actually thought the woman dying inside was my mother.

In his eyes, my mother's life was completely worthless.

I wondered if he would still stand there so arrogantly once he found out it was his own mother he had just condemned to death.

I thought of how my mother-in-law had always looked after me. I glared at him.

I gritted my teeth. "That's our mother in there! She's bleeding internally. She doesn't have another minute!"

Julian looked down at me, his eyes colder than ice.

"Cheryl is a dancer. Her body is fragile, and she can't afford a single mistake."

"Stop weaponizing your mother to guilt-trip me. Who are you playing dead for?"

"A human life is slipping away! She can't wait!" I gasped, clutching my stomach.

When I looked down, my hands were slick with bright red blood.

"Haven't you made enough of a scene?"

Julian frowned, his expression dripping with disgust. He glanced at the blood covering my fingers and took half a step back.

"Just to compete for my attention, you'd stoop so low as to curse your own mother to death?"

Cheryl leaned against his chest and coughed weakly. The smug triumph in her eyes was barely concealed, though her voice sounded sickeningly sweet and fragile.

"Julian, please don't blame Chloe. It's my fault for getting scratched at a time like this."

"Chloe just cares about you too much. That's why she's using her mother's life to scare us."

Julian wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, glaring at me with contempt.

"Chloe, look at Cheryl, then look at yourself. Look what a disgrace you've become."

"Your mother is fighting for her life in there, and you're out here throwing a tantrum. Do you have any decency left?"

I sat on the freezing tiles, staring up at him.

Cramps tore through my abdomen in vicious waves. Something precious was draining out of my body, slipping away forever.

I raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the darkened sign above the operating room doors.

"Julian, it's too late. She's gone."

"You killed her."

Julian's gaze followed my finger.

A surgeon in scrubs stepped out of the OR. His face told me everything before he spoke.

Julian didn't move an inch toward him.

"You even conspired with a doctor to put on this pathetic act? How vile can you be?"

"Exactly," Cheryl chimed in from the safety of his embrace, her tone accusatory. "It was just a minor fender-bender. How could it possibly be as severe as you claim?"

"You want to talk about emergencies? Look at these," Julian said. He pulled two reports from his jacket and tossed them at me.

One was a forged pre-op report claiming Cheryl needed those same two units on standby. The blood center had already flagged the trauma team's emergency request, but Julian, who chaired the hospital foundation, had pressured the dispatcher to keep Cheryl's reservation in place.

The other was a supposed discharge summary for Eleanor Vance. It said my mother-in-law had been treated for minor injuries and sent home.

Cheryl had doctored both reports. Julian had seen Eleanor's name on that second page and never thought to ask who was in the OR.

With a cold sneer, Julian turned to support Cheryl.

"Cheryl, let's go. Ignore her."

"Cheryl, we're going upstairs. They can keep the blood ready for tomorrow."

Cheryl looked back over her shoulder at me, her eyes gleaming with undisguised malice and victory.

The surgeon spoke to the courier, and the blood bank put the units on hold while it checked the paperwork. By then, it was too late for Mom.

The corridor fell deathly silent, leaving me alone on the floor.

The surgeon walked over to me and let out a heavy sigh.

"Is anyone from Mrs. Vance's family here?"

"Gone," I whispered.

"We have to notify the medical examiner because of the crash," the surgeon said. "Once she's cleared for release, the funeral home will need authorization from her next of kin."

I braced myself against the wall and slowly dragged myself up.

Blood ran down the inside of my calves, pooling onto the floor into a horrifying crimson puddle.

"I'll leave my number. I can make the arrangements."

The pen slipped in my hand as I wrote down my name and number.

The doctor caught sight of the hem of my dress, his face draining of color.

"Mrs. Vance, you're hemorrhaging!"

I looked down at the blood, my voice eerily calm.

"I'm pregnant. Twelve weeks."

The doctor shouted down the hall, "Get a gurney! We need the obstetrics team, now!"

They lifted me onto the cart.

The fluorescent ceiling lights rushed past above me, one after another.

I didn't close my eyes.

Just three hours ago, my mother-in-law had been simmering chicken soup for me in the kitchen.

She had smiled and said, Chloe, sweetheart, you're carrying twins. You need to nourish yourself.

She had also said, If that stubborn boy of mine ever dares mistreat you, I'll set him straight myself.

Now, she was lying in the morgue.

And I was being wheeled into an operating room.

"Fetal heartbeats are too weak. Cervix is dilated."

"Prep for an emergency D&C."

When the cold instruments entered my body, I refused anesthesia.

I wanted to feel every ounce of this agony.

Every single stab. I wanted to etch it into my bones.

The procedure lasted an hour.

When the doctor finished, he set a surgical tray aside.

Inside were two small clusters of bloody tissue.

"Mrs. Vance, I'm so sorry. We couldn't save the babies."

I stared at the tray. Not a single tear fell.

My tears had run dry when I saw Julian turn away while those two units were still on hold for Cheryl.

The nurse wheeled me back to a standard ward.

My phone buzzed.

It was a photo from Cheryl.

In the photo, Julian had his head bowed, gently peeling grapes for her.

The caption read:

Julian said he'll give me anything in the world as long as I smile. Chloe, I really envy you. You don't have to suffer being spoiled like a brat by him every day.

I stared at the screen, then typed a reply.

No need to envy.

Then I added one more line:

He's all yours.

I turned off my phone, pulled the IV out of my hand, and tried to stand. Black spots danced before my eyes.

The nurse hurried forward to stop me, but I braced one hand against the wall and dragged myself forward, step by agonizing step, toward the basement morgue.

With every stride, it felt like a knife twisting through my lower abdomen.

But I couldn't collapse.

She was down there all by herself. I had to go get her.

Three hours ago, she had slipped her heirloom imperial jade bracelet onto my wrist, telling me that once the babies were born, she would transfer half the family estate into my name to make sure no one could ever look down on me.

She lay there in total silence under a white sheet.

I pulled back the linen.

Someone had wiped the blood from her face. Her eyes were closed. I could still hear the way she used to call me down to dinner.

I took her cold, stiff hand in mine.

"Mom, I'm here."

"Don't worry. I will never let him get away with this."

"I'll make him crawl on his knees before you to beg for your forgiveness."