Chapter 4

Nicholas's gaze locked on the vivid red mark on Lindsey's cheek, and the air around him seemed to drop to freezing in an instant.

"Who the hell gave you the nerve to lay a hand on her?"

The shout cracked through the room. He strode forward and shoved Diana aside hard.

Diana wasn't ready for it. She stumbled back several steps, her lower back slamming into the edge of the table. Her face went white from the pain.

Nicholas didn't even spare her a second glance. He pulled Lindsey straight into his arms, cupped her face in his hands, and brushed the swollen skin with his thumb as if she might break.

That kind of worry, that kind of care, was something Diana had never once received from him.

"Does it hurt?"

Lindsey covered her cheek. Tears flooded her eyes on the spot. She shook her head, wronged and trembling, her voice thick with sobs.

"Nicholas, don't talk to Diana like that. She only did it because she loves you so much, and she got jealous of me."

"That slap… it didn't even hurt, really. As long as she calms down, it's fine if I have to suffer a little."

She sniffled, then glanced timidly toward Diana on the floor, twisting the knife with a soft, careful tone. "Diana, if you still feel bad, you can hit me again. Just… please promise Nicholas you won't use Mrs. Russell's illness to threaten him anymore, okay?"

Those seemingly generous words only stoked Nicholas's fury into something darker.

He stroked Lindsey's hair, gentle and protective, and when he turned to Diana, the disgust in his eyes felt almost tangible.

That look stabbed straight through Diana's chest.

And yet the hatred roaring up inside her gave her a force she'd never had before.

"So what if I hit her?"

"Nicholas, all you can see is that little mark on her face. You can't see my mom dying in the ICU?"

"Her heart—there were other options. You had alternatives. So why do you have to steal it? What are you trying to do?"

Her voice turned sharp, every word soaked in blood and tears, ripped from deep in her throat.

"Why?"

"You had other ways to save your son. So why do you have to take my mom's only chance to live? Why are you backing us into a dead end?"

Nicholas let out a short, cold laugh, the contempt in it so thick it was almost choking.

"Backing you in? You think you're worth that?"

"Lindsey got hit like this, and she's still thinking about you. Diana, you're a woman too. How can you be this vicious, this unreasonable?"

"Only Lindsey is kind enough to keep pleading for you. What, is your heart made of stone? Besides finding new ways to make people sick, what else can you do?"

Diana's stomach seized without warning. A fierce, twisting pain tore through her body. Her vision dimmed, and her legs gave out as she crumpled to the floor.

The cold tile seeped through her clothes, but it was nothing compared to the chill inside her.

She curled in on herself, shaking, sweat beading on her forehead. Every breath burned like she was swallowing fire.

Nicholas looked at her and didn't soften even a fraction. If anything, the disgust in his eyes deepened.

"Diana, aren't you tired? Cut it out with the sympathy act."

"You think I'll fall for it just because you pull this every time?"

Then, as if she wasn't even worth the effort, he bent down and scooped Lindsey into his arms with a tenderness that bordered on reverence, carrying her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

With the woman he loved held against his chest, he strode past Diana without a glance.

His dress shoes hit the floor with dull, heavy thuds.

Curled on the ground, Diana felt those sounds rattle her eardrums—and shatter what little will she had left.

No.

It couldn't end like this.

She still didn't have the real answer.

Somewhere, somehow, a thin thread of strength hauled her up. Diana pushed herself off the floor and staggered after him.

"Nicholas! Stop!"

She'd barely reached the doorway when her stomach lurched violently.

A metallic sweetness surged up her throat.

She couldn't hold it back.

Blood sprayed from her mouth, blooming across the pale tile in a shocking red pool.

The whole world swayed.

She used the last of her strength to grip the doorframe so she wouldn't collapse completely.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Nicholas halted. His body stiffened, and instinctively he started to turn.

"Nicholas." Lindsey sensed the pause. She let out a sudden cry and buried her face deep in his chest. "My face hurts so bad, and my head feels dizzy. Is it because of what just—"

Her soft, weak voice successfully yanked all of Nicholas's attention back to her.

His brows drew tight, worry flashing across his eyes.

He didn't look back again. Lowering his head, he soothed her gently. "Don't be scared. I'm taking you to the hospital right now. Go wait in the car for a minute. I'll be right there."

Lindsey nodded obediently and hopped down from his arms.

After she took a few steps, she glanced back as if it were an accident, the corner of her mouth lifting into a curve only a winner could wear, and then she walked away.

Nicholas shut the car door. Only then did he turn back.

He walked to Diana, looking down at the blood on her lips and the horrifying smear of it on the floor.

Diana thought he had to believe her now.

She thought, at the very least, something in him would move.

But he only stared, his handsome face flat and cold, the mockery and impatience on it growing heavier by the second.

"Trying to get sympathy so bad you're even faking coughing up blood now?"

"Diana, you're getting more disgusting by the day."

It was said so lightly, almost lazily, and it was still crueler than anything else he'd ever done.

Diana's heart sank, dropping into a bottomless pit.

So in his eyes, even her life and death were just another performance he was already bored of.

Without thinking, she reached for him, trying to catch the edge of his jacket, but he knocked her hand away without hesitation.

"Don't touch me." He took a step back, the revulsion in his movement unmistakable. "Save the fake act. I know exactly what you are. You're not going to die."

Fake.

Once, she'd believed she was strong enough to swallow anything.

But two years of marriage—two years of being cut open slowly, piece by piece—had ground her pride into dust.

Diana lifted her head.

Her face was smeared with blood and tears, and yet an absurd calm settled over her, so quiet it startled even her.

She stopped fighting. She stopped demanding answers.

In a drifting voice, she asked the question buried deepest, the one she'd held onto like a final, pathetic prayer.

"Nicholas…"

"I just need to make sure of one thing."

There was no screaming left in her voice. Only ash.

"In the last two years, have you ever—just a little, even for one moment—been real with me?"

It was her last and smallest wish.

If he could give her the tiniest sliver of a yes, maybe all her pain could be wrapped in a lie she could live with.

Nicholas froze for a beat.

Then he bent down and leaned close to her ear.

"Love you?"

"Diana, how can you be that naive?"

In a voice only the two of them could hear, he tore her final illusion apart with effortless cruelty.

"I'll tell you."

"I married you to get revenge—to humiliate you and your mother."

"I wanted you to watch everything you cared about get destroyed, little by little, until there was nothing left."