No Longer Yours to Break

Soaked and shivering from the cold night air, Zoe came down with a fever that knocked her out for three days.

Right as she started to bounce back, the nurse texted—

[Mr. Pierre Hertbert was awake.]

Her dad, finally out of that coma.

Zoe didn't know how to feel. The guy had cheated on her mom while she was pregnant, dragged Vicky—the other daughter—into their lives, and basically shattered everything. Her mom never recovered.

Yeah, Zoe would never forgive him for that.

Still, after her mom died, Pierre had sent Vicky away like he was trying to make things right. He kept her out of Zoe's world for years, and during that time? He spoiled Zoe like crazy.

Now, with her bags almost packed and Southport in the rearview, she figured she owed him one last visit.

***

The hospital room was quiet—but not empty.

Vicky stood by the bed, smirking down at Pierre like she owned the place. "Waiting for Zoe? Sucks for you. Pretty sure she's done wasting time on you."

Pierre, strapped to a ventilator, glared back, eyes burning. Couldn't speak. Couldn't stop her.

Vicky's voice went cold. "Your perfect little angel? She's been crawling after Connor like a total simp.

"Too bad. Even throwing herself at him didn't work."

She grinned. "We're getting married in two days. Bet Zoe's off crying her eyes out somewhere."

Then came the dagger. "Oh—Connor shoved her into a pool the other day. And she's terrified of water. No clue if anyone fished her out. She could already be dead."

Pierre's eyes went wide. He slammed his fists against the bed, the sound echoing off the walls.

The heart monitor screamed.

Didn't matter. Vicky had made sure no doctors were around.

She watched in silence, lips curled in victory, as Pierre's eyes slowly drifted shut.

Bang!

The door flew open. Zoe stormed in, breathless, and rushed to the bed.

One look at Pierre—not breathing—and her face crumpled.

She grabbed Vicky by the collar. "What did you do?! What did you say to him?! The nurse said he was fine this morning!"

Her voice cracked. Tears poured down her cheeks.

Vicky didn't flinch. The sweet-girl act she wore around Connor? Gone. All that was left was this eerie calm.

"You're crying over him?" Her voice was flat, almost confused. "He killed your mom. Did that not matter to you? What are you even crying for?"

"Shut up! You don't get to talk about my mom!" Zoe shouted. "No matter what he did, he was still my last family. And if he killed her, you're just as guilty! You helped him! Wasn't he your dad too? How could you—"

Vicky cut in, voice shaking. "He doesn't deserve to be called a father."

Her face twisted, and the words came out broken. "He forced himself on my mom. Got her pregnant, then made her keep it... When his wife died, he blamed us for everything.

"What did I do wrong? I didn't ask to be born!"

Zoe froze, everything spinning.

Zoe opened her mouth to say something, but Vicky's gaze slid past her.

In a flash, that hollow pain vanished—replaced by her usual helpless little act.

Behind her, Connor's voice cut through the room, low and cold. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from Vicky?"