Chapter 3

Lila Hart POV

The bathroom.

I pressed the flush button. The roar of water swept away the glaring red in the toilet bowl, as if draining the last bit of strength from my body.

When the water stopped, Ethan and Mandy's flirtatious laughter outside the door came through with needle-sharp clarity.

I steadied myself against the cold wall and stood up, grabbed some tissue, and mechanically wiped the blood from my mouth. The woman in the mirror had a deathly pale face, but lips stained an eerie red with blood—like crushed roses in snow.

I pulled the door open and walked out.

The fever made cold seep through my bones. Each step felt like walking on cotton.

In the living room, Ethan held a glass of red wine. Mandy nestled against him like a delicate bird. They were admiring a newly hung painting on the wall.

That used to be my favorite spot, where Nina's three-year-old family portrait had hung.

Now it had been replaced by an expensive piece of modern art.

My footsteps startled them.

Ethan turned around. When he saw me, his faint smile vanished instantly.

He set down his wine glass, walked over to me, his interrogating tone devoid of warmth.

"Where did you hide Nina?"

I said nothing. My throat felt stuffed with fire, burning so I couldn't speak a single word.

He seemed accustomed to my silence. He walked past me, heading straight upstairs.

Soon, Nina's bedroom door was shoved open roughly, banging against the wall with a dull thud.

Then came his angry footsteps thundering down the stairs, each one heavier than the last, trampling my heart.

"Where is she?" He grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight. "Lila, you think hiding the kid means I can't do anything about it?"

He yanked me so hard I stumbled and fell onto the cold carpet.

Looking up at him, the fever blurred my vision into light and shadow. His face twisted in that light, grotesque and unfamiliar.

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

My continued silence completely ignited his rage.

He roughly released my hand, pulled out his phone, and right in front of me, called his assistant. His voice was cold and heartless.

"It's me. Freeze all of Lila Hart's cards."

The person on the other end said something. He listened, then added with a cold laugh, "Also, all of Nina Foster's medical insurance and trust accounts. Yes, freeze them all."

His voice was crystal clear.

My fingers curled involuntarily at my sides.

Nina's medical account still held the few thousand dollars I'd scraped together through extreme frugality.

I'd wanted to use it to buy Nina a burial plot that got sunlight.

But now, he wouldn't even give me that chance.

My phone screen lit up. "Ding ding"—a string of messages flooded in.

[Dear customer, your account ending in xxxx has been frozen.]

[Your linked medical bank account has been terminated. Current balance: $0.00.]

...

I stared at that glaring string of zeros on the screen, suddenly finding this whole absurd situation laughably grotesque.

A strange sound escaped my throat, and then I actually laughed.

My laughter grew louder—dry, ugly, like a broken bellows.

Ethan probably hadn't expected this reaction. He bent down and grabbed my chin with those hands that had just signed hundred-million-dollar contracts.

"Playing crazy for sympathy? Lila, I'm sick of these tricks."

He released me like he'd touched something filthy, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers, then condescendingly kicked my shin.

"Before I change my mind, you'd better bring Nina back."

Just then, a woman's scream rang out from upstairs, accompanied by the crash of breaking porcelain.

It was Mandy.

"Ahhh—!"