Victor stammered through the words, his eyes darting everywhere but her face.

"Tell me the truth."

"Kenneth's throwing a formal introduction ceremony for that woman. Wants people to serve her tea, the whole thing..."

I drew a long breath, ripped the IV from my arm, and said, "Take me there."

Victor couldn't stop me. So he drove.

The moment I walked through the door, I saw Eleanor Harding sitting in my chair, wearing my clothes.

A line of people stretched from the entrance, waiting their turn to offer her tea.

Kenneth sat beside her, gazing at her with open adoration, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth every few moments.

I stood at the back and watched. Watched her smile and drink cup after cup.

It wasn't until my turn came that Kenneth finally noticed me.

Eleanor hadn't expected me either. Her hand froze mid-air, the cup halfway to her lips.

"Go on. Drink. Why'd you stop?"

Kenneth's expression darkened. He seized my arm and yanked me aside.

"You're sick. You should be in the hospital. What the hell are you doing here causing a scene?"

I kept my chin raised, my fingers twisting the hem of my hospital gown without my permission, the pain inside me flooding past every wall I had left.

"I'm sick, and you're here throwing her a party. Making people bow to her like she's your wife!"

"Kenneth, what am I to you?"

His eyes went cold, several degrees past indifference. "Didn't I send someone to watch you?"

"I'm not a doctor. What good would sitting there do?"

A low buzzing filled my skull, and I dropped my head.

Eleanor was afraid to go to her prenatal checkup alone, so he canceled our marriage registration to be there for her.

I was burning with fever, and he said there was no point in staying.

The man who once swore he'd die for me had rotted through to the bone.

Nobody in the room dared to breathe, terrified of catching the crossfire.

"Fine."

"Kenneth, starting today."

"We go our separate ways. We're done."

I hurled the teacup in my hand. Porcelain shattered across the floor.

"Ah!"

"It hurts..."

Eleanor clutched her shin, her face crumpling into a pitiful mask as she looked up at Kenneth.

Kenneth's brow furrowed deep. He crouched to examine her wound, his hands impossibly gentle.

"Betty, I've spoiled you rotten. You think you can do whatever you want!"

A sharp sting spread through my clenched fist. Warm, sticky blood pooled in my palm and seeped between my fingers.

But Kenneth didn't see.