After I left the hospital, Tristan arranged my mother's funeral for me. He greeted mourners and looked appropriately solemn, but there was no true sorrow in his eyes. Staring at my mother's warm smile in the portrait felt like a knife in my chest.
I had planned to make Hillary pay—to ease my mother's soul. But Tristan ruined that plan completely.
"Mom, I'm sorry..." I whispered, nails digging into my palm until the pain steadied me. "Wait a little longer. I will make them pay!"
——
Footsteps approached behind me.
"Meredith, I arranged the most dignified funeral for your mother. She'll rest in peace. Don't be too upset." Tristan's tone was detached, as if he spoke of a stranger.
He knelt beside me to reach for the incense, but I slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch my mother's things with your filthy hands."
His brow tightened. He swallowed and tried to control his temper. "You're hurt—don't get worked up." His voice was laced with practiced tenderness, and it made me sick.
"What about Hillary? Aren't you going to explain?" I demanded.
His face changed for a heartbeat; then he answered coolly, as if everything had been planned: "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Hillary is just a sister I need to take care of."
I bit back a laugh. "A sister you take care of in bed?"
"Meredith!" His voice shot up. "When I was at my lowest, it was Hillary who stayed with me. She's only doing what you couldn't do—what you should've done. Why speak about her like that?"
Before I could answer, he slammed the door and left.
My legs went weak. Only a week ago he'd been the attentive husband I'd loved. Now, after I moved to sue Hillary, his disguise had come off.
"Meredith, my condolences~" Hillary's syrupy voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She leaned lazily against the doorway like a woman enjoying an excellent performance.
"Tristan has been running around for you. If you say things that hurt him, aren't you afraid he'll give up on you?" she purred.
"I'm not like you—my life isn't just revolving around some man," I snapped.
She chuckled softly. "Pitiful, isn't it? I killed your mother, yet Tristan still shields me without hesitation. Does that make you seethe, Sister?"
Her hand caressed her flat belly, pride dripping from her voice.