The Wife He Threw Away for His Brother's Widow

### Chapter 7

"I still can't believe she was in the dark this whole time," Alice laughed. "You told her the miscarriage happened because she went out in the middle of the night, and she actually bought it."

"That's what she owed you as a mistress," Dustin scoffed. "She'll swallow whatever lie I feed her."

My body could barely hold itself upright, but I forced myself to keep listening.

"Sweetheart, you terminated that little bastard and extracted the fetal stem cells just to repair my womb." Alice's voice dripped with syrupy sweetness. "I'm truly touched. As long as you promise never to go near that tramp again, I'll forgive you."

I clamped my hand over my mouth so hard my fingers nearly tore through my lips.

Thunder cracked through my skull, one bolt after another, shredding everything I thought I knew.

The baby I believed I'd lost on that rainy night—lost by accident, lost through my own carelessness—had been murdered by its own father.

To repair his fake wife's womb.

So that woman, that fraud who'd been playing insane, could carry his child instead.

"I'll give you anything you want. You're carrying the Delgado heir now, so you can't get too worked up, understand?"

Alice smiled, sweet as poison. "Fine. I won't hold it against her anymore. After all, it was her baby that made it possible for me to conceive yours."

Breathing became almost impossible. My vision blurred again, and for one terrible instant, I thought I was dying.

Through the crack in the door, I could see them at the vanity counter—clothes disheveled, bodies tangled together. Alice's nails raked down the hard muscles of Dustin's back as they moved in a frenzied rhythm.

Then she saw me.

The moment our eyes met, her moans grew louder, more theatrical.

"Slow down—didn't that little mistress ever satisfy you, baby?"

Dustin's mouth swallowed her cries before she could say more.

I collapsed onto the toilet seat like a hollowed-out shell, every last drop of life wrung from my body.

An eternity passed before they finally finished. Alice told Dustin to leave first.

Then a knock came on the stall door.

"Come on out." Her voice was thick with lazy satisfaction. "He's gone."

I pushed the door open and stepped out.

She stood there, deliberately, unhurriedly pulling her dress down from her chest—putting on a show, displaying the fresh marks scattered across her skin.

"I'm going to keep you as the dirty little secret forever." Her voice was feather-soft, as casual as commenting on the weather. "So if you know what's good for you, walk away from him on your own."

Her gaze dropped to my belly. "You think you'll actually carry his child to term? No. I'll make you taste that loss all over again. Every brat you lose will be nothing more than a sacrifice on the altar of my love with my husband."

Pure, white-hot fury shattered whatever was left of my restraint. I swung my hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had.

"You vile woman—give me back my baby!"

"Ahhh!"

She crashed to the floor, and her shriek pierced through the entire restroom.

Dustin burst in within seconds, bodyguards and a crowd of guests flooding in behind him.

He saw Alice crumpled on the ground, sobbing. He saw the vivid handprint blazing across her cheek. His eyes turned bloodshot in an instant—a beast provoked beyond reason.

"What did you do to her?!"

He scooped Alice up, passed her to a bodyguard, then turned and bore down on me in long, furious strides.

A tearing pain ripped across my scalp. Dustin seized my hair and wrenched it back so hard my entire face was forced upward.

"I'm done going easy on you, Cecily. Apologize to Alice. Now."

I thrashed in his grip, my scalp screaming with pain, but I didn't care anymore.

"She's not insane! She never lost her memory!" The words tore out of me in a raw, desperate scream. "Dustin, listen to me—she's been faking it from the very beginning! Believe me!"

"Enough!"

His roar detonated like a gunshot, and the room went dead silent.

My heart hammered so violently I could hear it pounding in my ears.

"I don't know what she's talking about," Alice whimpered in the bodyguard's arms, crying so pitifully, so helplessly. Her voice hitched like a startled fawn's. "Sweetheart, I'm so scared. Why won't she just leave us alone? I only told her I'd give her a generous sum if she'd walk away from you, and she said she'd kill me and my baby."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

Every condemning stare landed on me, as if I were the monster in this room.

"With a temper like that, she's clearly unfit to be Mrs. Delgado," someone murmured.

"Poor Miss Dotson. If she loses another husband and child, she won't survive it." Another voice, sympathetic and resolute.

"If you ask me, Mr. Delgado should just—"

The voices crashed over me in waves, and Dustin stared at me like I was his sworn enemy, his gaze cold as a blade.

"Get on your knees. Bow your head. Beg Alice for forgiveness."

A violent tremor racked my body.

"No—Dustin, I'm carrying your child!"

I stumbled backward, both hands pressed protectively over my stomach, grasping for any last shred of his mercy—even though the baby was already gone.

But he only stared at me, nothing in those eyes but frozen contempt.

"Do it."

He didn't want me. He didn't want our child. I'd known it for a long time, but the knowing didn't stop my heart from ripping apart.

The next second, a bodyguard clamped down on my arms and forced me downward. I refused to yield. A boot slammed into the back of my knee.

The pain was blinding, as if the bone had split in two.

"Ahh!" I screamed as my knees hit the floor.

Someone grabbed my hair. "Bow. Apologize."

The grip was merciless, treating my skull like a ball to be bounced off the ice-cold tile.

"Never!" The room spun around me. I wanted to fight back, to run. But I was powerless.

The guard gripped my head and drove it into the floor again and again.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack…

Blood ran down—warm, sticky—streaming along my brow and into my eyes. The world dissolved into a blurred wash of red.

Through that red, I saw Alice.

She was curled in Dustin's arms like a frightened rabbit, her body trembling delicately. But behind those wide, tearful eyes, triumph glittered like a blade catching light.

Dustin bowed his head and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, his touch impossibly gentle. He stroked her hair, slow and tender, as though she were something infinitely precious.

What a perfect couple.

What a magnificent love story.

The blood kept flowing, dripping onto the floor one drop at a time—a libation poured in honor of their magnificent love.

My screams faded to nothing. Not because the pain had stopped, but because I had nothing left. My lips were bitten through, my throat shredded raw. All that remained was the ragged sound of my breathing—like a fish gasping on dry land.

"Mr. Delgado, she—she's badly hurt." Someone spoke up, hesitant and uneasy.

Dustin finally lifted his head and looked at me. He saw it—the horrifying blood, the split flesh of my forehead.

"Just apologize," he said after a pause, something unreadable flickering through his voice, "and I'll let you go."

I stared at him and the woman in his arms. Every syllable cost me everything I had left.

"Over… my… dead… body."

Alice whimpered again, soft and pitiful.

"Let it go. Even though she wanted to kill me, I can't bear to watch this." She buried her face against his chest, her shoulders quivering. "Let's just leave. The baby's kicking—I don't feel well."

Dustin's voice turned impossibly tender. "You're too kind. That's exactly why she walks all over you."

Then he lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a bride on her wedding night.

As he passed me, he stopped. His words fell like ice.

"If there's a next time, you won't get off this easy. Cecily—for the sake of the child in your belly, I suggest you learn your place."

Then he carried her out and disappeared through the door.

The bodyguards dispersed. The crowd scattered.

I lay on the freezing floor like a discarded rag, thrown aside without a second thought. They stepped over me, every single one of them, and not a soul reached down. My body was heavy as stone. Even the agony in my chest had gone numb—or maybe it hurt so much that feeling itself had shut down.

I tried to get up. I couldn't move.

My eyelids grew heavier. Heavier. The red behind my eyes dimmed, then darkened to black.

Am I dying?

"Cecily? God damn it—Cecily! Who did this to my daughter?!"

A furious roar tore through the darkness like a crack of light. That voice—so familiar, so impossibly far away, as if it were reaching me from inside a dream.

I fought to open my eyes. Blurred shapes rushed toward me, frantic footsteps closing in.

Then a figure bent down. A face, hazy through the blood, carved with fury and heartbreak.

My father.

His hands were shaking as he reached for me, so careful, so terrified of causing more pain, as he gathered me into his arms. His eyes were red. Tears streamed down a face I had never—not once in my life—seen cry.

"Daddy's here. Daddy's taking you home."

I could finally go home.

The darkness swallowed me whole.