His Unwanted Wife Is A Dying Genius

The taxi tires crunched against the gravel as it pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Hines Estate in Long Island.

Aretha handed the driver a bill, stepped out into the freezing air, and completely ignored the shocked look on the security guard's face.

She walked up the grand steps and pushed open the heavy, double mahogany doors.

The blinding light from the massive crystal chandelier poured over her.

Inside the spacious, classical foyer, the after-party for Kelli's birthday was in full swing. The air smelled of expensive perfume and roasted duck. Women in haute couture gowns laughed while men in tailored suits held crystal glasses of bourbon.

Aretha stepped inside. She was wearing a dark, wind-chilled trench coat that looked entirely out of place among the glittering evening wear.

For half a second, the entire hall went dead silent.

Meredith Hines, Aretha's biological mother, was standing near the grand staircase talking to a group of socialites. She turned her head.

When she saw her actual daughter standing there like an uninvited ghost, the polite smile on Meredith's face instantly vanished.

Meredith set her champagne flute down on a passing tray. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she marched over.

She didn't ask why Aretha looked so pale. She didn't ask if she was okay.

"Where are your manners?" Meredith hissed, her voice a harsh, reprimanding whip. "You show up late, dressed like a vagrant, and embarrass this family in front of our guests?"

Aretha stood perfectly still. Her eyes were as calm as a stagnant pool of water. She watched her mother perform her usual routine of absolute favoritism.

She didn't lower her head. She didn't apologize.

Aretha straightened her spine, looking Meredith dead in the eye. "Whose manners are we talking about, Mother?" she asked, her voice chillingly flat. "Yours, or the ones you made up for me?"

The unprecedented arrogance in Aretha's tone completely shattered Meredith's control.

Meredith raised her hand. On her middle finger sat a massive, square-cut emerald ring.

She swung her arm and slapped Aretha hard across the face.

The sharp, cracking sound echoed through the cavernous hall. The music seemed to fade. The guests stopped talking, their eyes locking onto the drama unfolding by the door.

The force of the blow snapped Aretha's head to the side. The heavy emerald ring scraped violently against the corner of her mouth.

A warm bead of blood immediately welled up, sliding down her chin.

The sudden, violent spike in her adrenaline triggered a massive cramp deep in her stomach. It felt like her organs were being wrung out like a wet towel.

Her vision went entirely black for a second. Her body swayed.

Aretha bit down on her back teeth so hard her jaw popped. She forced the metallic taste of blood back down her throat and planted her feet firmly on the marble floor. She refused to bend.

"Mom!"

Kelli ran out from the crowd. She was wearing a custom-made white tulle dress, looking like a terrified, innocent dove. She hiked up her skirt and rushed over.

Kelli grabbed Meredith's arm, her eyes already brimming with fake tears. "Mom, please don't be mad," she begged, her voice trembling.

Kelli turned to Aretha, her expression the picture of guilt. "Ari, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have expected you to come celebrate my birthday. I know you hate me."

The guests immediately began whispering. The looks they shot Aretha were filled with pure disgust.

Meredith grabbed Kelli's hands, rubbing them soothingly. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. You did nothing wrong," Meredith cooed, treating the adopted daughter like a fragile piece of glass.

Aretha slowly raised the back of her hand. She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her movements agonizingly deliberate.

She looked at Meredith. Then she looked at Kelli.

Knowing she only had ninety days left to live made this entire soap opera look incredibly, pathetically hilarious.

Aretha started to laugh.

It wasn't a loud laugh, but it was filled with so much self-mockery and absolute contempt that it made the hairs on the back of Meredith's neck stand up.

"Are you insane?" Meredith demanded, her voice shrill.

Aretha stopped laughing. Her eyes locked onto Meredith, sharp and unyielding.

"From this second on," Aretha said, enunciating every single word, "I will never ask you for a drop of a mother's love ever again."

She didn't wait to see the shock register on Meredith's face.

Aretha bypassed the two women entirely, walking straight toward the grand spiral staircase that led to the second floor.

Kelli watched Aretha's retreating back. A flash of vicious calculation crossed her teary eyes.

Kelli let go of Meredith's hand. "I'll go get an ice pack for her," she whispered sweetly, before quietly slipping away and following Aretha up the stairs.

Aretha heard the soft, deliberate footsteps trailing behind her.

She didn't care. She kept walking.

She was heading to the cramped guest room at the end of the hall to grab the last of her personal belongings. The real storm was just about to begin.