"Oh, that's nothing." Dr. Grant's voice turned conspiratorial. "I heard the sister is only adopted. Anyone with eyes can see she's got her sights set on her own brother. Last night during my rounds, I saw her—watched her kiss Mr. Sanchez right on the mouth while he was asleep. Five minutes later, he woke up." She paused meaningfully. "Didn't say a single word."
The two women exchanged knowing looks, lips curling with unspoken judgment.
I sagged against the wall, eyes burning until they ached.
Ruth Sanchez was the Sanchez family's adopted daughter. Because they were siblings in name, every time I showed even a flicker of jealousy, I became the unreasonable one—the woman trying to tear apart a brother and sister's innocent bond.
All Cyril had to do was raise an eyebrow and say, "If it were really as sordid as you imagine, I'd have married her already. You think you'd have had a chance?"
And I would fall silent. Every time.
He was right, wasn't he?
He was the heir to the richest family in the city—untouchable, godlike. And I was just a nine-to-five nobody, punching a clock and scraping by.
So why had he sent me tens of thousands of roses?
Why had he held my hand through the darkest nights after I lost my family, patient and steady when I couldn't stop crying?
Why had he personally dealt with the supervisor who made lewd comments about me at work?
And when that car came barreling toward us—why had he wrapped his body around mine, shielding me so completely that he was the one who ended up in the ICU?
I still remembered our wedding day. The way he'd raised his hand to the heavens and sworn:
"Samantha, I will love you and cherish you for the rest of my life. I will never betray you."
But hearts change in a heartbeat. And "forever" was just something people said to make the moment feel real.
When I looked up again, Cyril was standing in front of me.
I didn't know how long he'd been there.
His eyes met mine—bloodshot, hollow, bruised with exhaustion—and for once, something like concern flickered across his face.
"You just gave birth. Why aren't you resting in bed?"
The scent of Ruth's perfume clung to him, thick and cloying.
It hit my stomach like a fist. I nearly retched.
I stepped back, avoiding his reaching hand.
"You wanted a divorce, didn't you?" My voice came out flat. Dead. "Let's sign it. Now."
Cyril went still.