As we were prepared to leave, he noticed my pale face and the hand pressed to my arm.
"What happened today was my fault," he sighed. "Once Hillary's stable, I'll give you a better anniversary."
Seeing that I didn't answer, he tentatively called out again. "Meredith?"
"Mm."
My reply was faint, barely audible.
The moment the door clicked shut, I rose without hesitation and walked away.
On the way to pick up my brother, Hillary's message popped up.
[Did you see it? As long as I say a word, Tristan will abandon you without hesitation. So what if you've been Mrs. Palmer for seven years? He only listens to me now. Meredith, you'd better be smart and leave on your own. Otherwise, I don't mind letting you watch with your own eyes as I take him from you—and leaving you with nothing.]
Attached was an intimate photo of her with Tristan.
I stared at the screen, lips curving into a cold smile.
With a simple tap, the pre-set auto screen recorder captured everything, turning her arrogance into ironclad evidence.
She didn't realize—the more brazen she became, the deeper she dug her own grave.
I sneered and blocked her without hesitation.
The play was over. Time to close the net.
All the evidence would be packaged and sent straight to the lawyer, along with a single command. [Sue immediately. I want Hillary to rot in prison for the rest of her life.]
As for Tristan—he owed me far too much.
I would collect the debt of those unborn children, with interest.
Once on the plane, I powered off the SIM card with care.
The night outside the window stretched endlessly, and I whispered to myself, "The real show starts now."
