After His Mistress Tried to Kill Me

The morning light was gray and cold. It spilled across my stiff hospital bed. The rain had stopped, but the sky outside my window still looked bruised. I lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling tiles.

A soft squeak of rubber tires broke the quiet. The door pushed open.

Thalia rolled into my room in a hospital wheelchair. She wore a faded gown, but her hair was perfectly brushed into soft waves. A faint scent of expensive vanilla perfume cut through the sharp smell of bleach. She stopped at the foot of my bed.

“Evie,” she said softly. Her voice trembled. It was a perfect, fragile sound.

I didn’t say anything. I just watched her.

“I never wanted any of this,” she whispered, looking down at her lap. “The accident... the rain was so heavy. I couldn't see you in the crosswalk until it was too late.”

She lied so easily. The streetlights had been bright. The pedestrian walking sign was glowing. She had sped up. But I kept my mouth shut. My silence hung heavy and cold in the room.

Thalia sighed deeply. “I hope we can find a way through this together. It’s been so hard. Colby hasn’t left my side all night. He’s been so frightened for me.” She looked up. Her big brown eyes were shining with fake tears. “He’s exhausted, Evie. I just wish you could understand the position I’m in. My kidneys are failing. Colby is just trying to save me.”

She wanted a reaction. She wanted me to cry, or yell, or throw something. I did none of those things. I just turned my head away and looked at the blank wall.

The room went dead quiet. The soft, wounded act dropped.

Thalia gripped the wheels of her chair. She pushed herself closer to the side of my bed. The vanilla scent grew stronger, almost suffocating. She leaned forward. Her voice lost its tremble. It became a sharp, quiet hiss.

“You’ve always been a placeholder, Evangeline,” she murmured. “Eight years, and he still drops you the second I call. He belongs to me. You know that by now, don’t you? You’re just spare parts.”

My heart monitor kept a steady, boring rhythm. *Beep. Beep. Beep.* I looked back at her. I didn't feel angry. I just felt incredibly tired of looking at her.

“Are you done?” I asked quietly.

Thalia’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed with sudden, vicious heat. She looked quickly at the door, then back at me.

Suddenly, she grabbed the armrest of her wheelchair. She jerked her body sideways and threw herself hard onto the cold linoleum floor.

*Smack.*

“Ahhh!” Thalia shrieked at the top of her lungs. She curled into a ball on the ground, clutching her arm. “Help! Oh my god, help me! She pushed me! Evie, why would you do that?!”

I didn't move a single muscle. I just blinked.

Footsteps rushed down the hall. But before anyone ran in, I looked past Thalia. Through the glass partition of my room, I saw Nurse Patricia Osei. She was standing by the charting station. She held a clipboard to her chest. She had been watching the whole time.

Nurse Osei didn't rush in in a panic. She looked at Thalia writhing on the floor. Then she looked at me, lying flat on my back with an IV taped to my hand, ten feet away from the wheelchair. Nurse Osei gave me a tiny, almost invisible nod. She picked up her pen and started writing on her incident report.

A young orderly ran in and helped Thalia up. She sobbed loudly into his shoulder. I just closed my eyes and let them wheel her away.

An hour later, a familiar voice echoed in the hallway.

“I need to see her,” Colby demanded. His tone was sharp. It was the voice of a man used to getting his way.

“Take one more step, and I’ll break your nose,” Jasmine replied.

I opened my eyes. Through the open door, I saw Jasmine standing squarely in the frame. Her arms were crossed. She formed a solid wall between Colby and my room.

Colby adjusted his suit cuffs. His jaw ticked. “Jasmine, step aside. I’m her fiancé. We had a fight. I need to talk to her.”

“You’re not her fiancé,” Jasmine said. Her voice was low, deadly, and completely steady. “You’re a parasite. And if you try to walk into this room with anything other than an unconditional apology, I will make a phone call.”

Colby frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Jasmine leaned forward. “I will personally ensure every media outlet in Manhattan learns the truth. I’ll tell them how a hotshot tech CEO tried to negotiate his girlfriend’s organ as a transactional wedding gift for his ex. I’ll make sure your board of directors reads about it over their morning coffee.”

Colby’s face went pale. His eyes darted to the nurses' station, then back to Jasmine. He still thought he was the reasonable one. He thought I was just being difficult.

“She’s not thinking clearly,” Colby muttered, taking a step back. “I’ll give her more time.”

He turned and walked away down the sterile white hall.

Jasmine watched him go until he turned the corner. Then she stepped into my room and closed the door with a firm click. She walked over and sat in the chair next to my bed.

“He’s gone,” she said.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Jasmine pulled out her phone. The screen cast a pale glow on her face. “Sean just texted. He’s reaching out to his contacts in London. We’re pulling the threads on her divorce, her medical history, everything.”

She looked up from her screen. Her dark eyes were fierce.

“Rest, Evie,” she said softly. “By the time you get out of this bed, we’re going to burn her fake little world to the ground.”