After Three Years in Hell, I Became the Heiress He Lost

I braced my arms against the ground and lifted my head. "Hayden, help me up. I can't stand."

No one answered.

I looked up. Pamela had already taken Hayden by the hand and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

"Gloria?"

A white-haired old man stood before me, his grandson at his side.

My vision blurred instantly. "Dr. Edwin Hartwell Hartwell... you're here too..."

He let out a cold scoff. "Making a spectacle of yourself in public. I don't have a student like you. You've disgraced every doctor who ever held a scalpel."

Tears pooled in my eyes. My lips parted, but nothing came out.

He turned and walked away. Something clamped down hard around my chest, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

The race ended. The crowd thinned to nothing.

I dragged myself up from the ground, bruised and filthy, just in time to see Leon helping Pamela and Hayden into the car in the distance.

The car pulled away. No one had waited for me.

The house was empty when I got back. Not a single soul.

I picked up my phone and scrolled to the post Pamela had just shared.

A Western restaurant. She sat beside Leon and Hayden, all of them smiling, looking every inch the perfect little family.

I stared at that photo for a long time. Then I dialed a number.

"Draw up a divorce agreement for me."

I slipped into Leon's office when no one was around, tucking the papers into the middle of the thick stack of documents on his desk.

When the time was right, I'd pull them back out.

It was late when Leon finally came home.

When he lay down beside me, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Then his arm slid around me from behind, pulling me close.

"Gloria."

My entire body went rigid.

His hand began to wander. Nausea surged up from my stomach, and I shoved him away hard.

His temper flared. "What is your problem? You've been acting strange ever since you got back. I already told you—just behave yourself, cure Pamela's illness, and this family goes back to the way it was."

The blood drained from my face. "You really think we can go back to the way it was?"

He frowned. "Why wouldn't we?"

I said nothing more.

Sometime in the dead of night, the faint smell of smoke drifted into my half-conscious mind.

A familiar terror seized me instantly. My eyes flew open.

The room was already on fire. Thick smoke billowed across the ceiling, and the crackle of flames came from every direction.

"Leon?" I called out. No answer.

Then I heard it—Hayden's crying.

I threw myself into his room like a woman possessed. He was barely conscious, his small face blackened with soot, each breath shallower than the last.

I scooped him into my arms and ran.

The moment I reached the hallway, a wall of flame erupted in front of me.

I gathered every ounce of strength in my arms and pushed Hayden through the doorway, clear of the fire.

That was when I saw Leon on the other side of the hall, Pamela cradled in his arms, charging toward the exit.

My throat was raw, scorched by smoke. I forced out every last bit of air in my lungs. "Leon! Help—"

He didn't even slow down. Didn't turn his head. Just kept running with Pamela in his arms.

He never once looked my way.

My hand dropped to my side. Smoke stung my eyes until tears streamed down my cheeks, and my consciousness faded piece by piece.

"Gloria!"

Leon's voice. From somewhere far away.

But I couldn't tell anymore whether he was really calling my name, or whether my dying mind was just telling me what I wanted to hear.

When I woke up in the hospital, Leon was sitting beside the bed.

He looked exhausted. A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes, there and gone.

I struggled to sit up, reaching for water. He pressed my shoulder back down.

"Easy. You were out for three days. Don't push it."

"Oh—once you're discharged, we'll move to the villa on the west side of the city."