"Don't worry, darling. I'll take care of you. Let her rot in there."
Footsteps faded down the hall.
I slid down the door, burying my face in my hands. I was trapped. My baby was dead. My husband was a monster. And my sister was the devil. They had stripped me of everything—my child, my dignity, my freedom.
But as the tears fell, something else began to rise in the darkness of my heart.
If they wanted a villain, I would give them one.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. My stomach churned, but the thought of food made me nauseous.
The lock clicked again.
I didn't move from my spot on the floor. I watched as the door opened and Donna slipped inside, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water.
"Eliza?" she whispered, her voice dripping with that sickening, sugary concern. "You must be hungry. I brought you something."
"Get out," I rasped, not looking at her.
"Please, Eliza," she sighed, setting the tray on the nightstand. She sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her skirt—my skirt. "I just want us to be happy. I want to help you accept the reality of the situation."
"The reality?" I looked up, my eyes burning. "The reality is that you’re sleeping with my husband."
"We’re in love," she said simply, as if discussing the weather. "George and I… we connect. He needs someone who understands him. Someone who can give him what he needs."
"You mean a son?" I spat. "You mean the heir I couldn't give him because he almost killed me?"
"Shh," she soothed, reaching out. "Don't be like that. You should just be honest with yourself. You were never right for him. You were always too… fragile."
"I was his wife!"
"And you cheated on him," she said, her eyes wide and innocent.
"You know that's a lie! You faked those photos! You hired someone!"
"Does it matter?" Donna shrugged, the mask finally slipping. A slow, cruel smirk spread across her lips. "He believes me. That’s all that counts."
"You whore," I whispered, the venom in my voice surprising even me.
Donna’s smirk widened. She stood up and walked over to me, looking down like I was a stain on the carpet.
"Call me whatever you want, Eliza. But the truth is, he wants me now. You’re barren. You’re empty. A broken vessel with nothing to offer. Why would he keep a car that can’t run when he has a brand new model right here?"
She placed a hand on her stomach, a gesture that made my blood boil.