His Mistress Got My Daughter's Heart

As she passed me, a flash of triumph flickered in her eyes.

My heart lurched.

That look told me everything—she knew about Lily's death.

Something inside me shattered.

I didn't even take off my shoes. I charged toward Lily's room like a woman possessed, pointing at Mia and Bryce, my voice tearing out of my throat.

"Get out!"

"Get out of Lily's room!"

Bryce burst into tears.

In the blink of an eye, Mia's voice took on a tearful tremor. "Mrs. Pruitt, what are you doing? Bryce just had surgery—if you scream at him like this, something could happen to him..."

I fixed my gaze on her, teeth clenched. "You knew Lily was already—"

Slap!

Before I could finish, Charles's palm struck my face.

"Althea! Are you done with this nonsense?!"

"Charles, Lily is dead! If you don't believe me, go to the hospital morgue—she's lying there right now!"

"And your precious student Mia knew all along!"

"Do you even know how Lily died? You killed her! You took the donor heart and—"

"You're insane!!"

Charles's roar cut me off again.

He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to the storage room, slamming the door and locking me inside.

Then he called the psychiatric hospital.

Half an hour later, two orderlies hauled me out of the house.

I glared at Charles, my voice raw. "Charles Abbott, you'll rot in hell! You killed Lily—I will never let this go!"

But all that awaited me were restraints.

And the sound of Charles and Mia's laughter drifting from the kitchen...

In the early hours of the morning, I woke on a metal cot in the psychiatric ward, the sedatives wearing off.

Almost without thinking, I pulled out my phone and opened the home security feed.

In the bedroom Charles and I once shared, two bodies moved together.

Mia's coy voice floated through the speaker. "Charles... thank you for saving Bryce. If you had to do it all over again, would you still...?"

Charles's breath came heavy. "Not just once—I'd do it ten thousand times. I love you. Of course I love Bryce too..."

The sounds that followed made my stomach turn.

I ground my teeth until they ached, then found a number I hadn't dialed in over a decade.

"Help me. I want to destroy Charles Abbott completely."

A week later, Charles came to collect me from the psychiatric hospital.

He glanced at my hollow, haggard face and tossed a box containing a dress at my feet.