Chapter 5

I woke up to the sound of nurses whispering outside my door.

"That's the one. The Martin family's daughter-in-law."

"The one whose husband died? I heard her brother-in-law brought her in. He also brought in his fiancée at the same time. She was in the VIP suite with a whole team of doctors."

"This one was just left in a regular room. It's true what they say, some people are just born luckier than others."

I stared at the ceiling, a bitter smile twisting my lips. They had no idea. My husband wasn't dead. He was just next door, doting on another woman.

The day I was discharged, I saw them in the hallway. Evertt was holding Kylee, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. He never even glanced in my direction.

I had just stepped into the villa when the police arrived.

They showed me a search warrant. "Ma'am, we have a report of a hit-and-run involving a vehicle registered to this address. We need to investigate."

Kylee's face went white. She instinctively grabbed Evertt's arm.

Evertt' s eyes darkened. I saw the flicker of memory in his expression. I knew about the accident. Kylee had hit someone and driven off. Evertt had paid a fortune to make it go away.

He never thought it would come back to haunt them. He looked at Kylee's terrified face, then at me.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pointed at me.

"It was her," he said, his voice firm. "She' s the only one who drives that car."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. Disbelief warred with a cold, sickening certainty.

Behind him, Kylee hid her face, but not before I saw the triumphant smirk.

I was freezing, a deep, bone-deep cold that had nothing to do with the temperature. He was going to let me take the fall for her.

"I didn't do it," I said, each word a struggle.

Evertt' s face was a mask of sorrow. "Helen, we all make mistakes. You have to take responsibility for your actions."

Kylee chimed in, her eyes red-rimmed. "Don't worry, Helen. We'll help you. We'll pay for the best lawyers."

I looked from one to the other, at their perfectly rehearsed performance, and I started to laugh. A hollow, broken sound.

The cold metal of handcuffs closed around my wrists.

"I'll get you out," Evertt promised, his voice a low whisper meant only for me.

The holding cell was cold and damp. The next day, the door creaked open. It wasn't Evertt.

It was the victim's family. A woman, her eyes wild with grief, lunged at me.

"You killed my son!" she shrieked, grabbing my hair. "Why do you get to live?"

Fists and feet rained down on me. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head.

A sharp kick to my ribs made me see stars. I felt a crack, a blinding flash of pain.

My head was buzzing. The air was filled with curses and screams.

They dragged me into the small, filthy bathroom and doused me with ice-cold water. The shock of the cold on my open wounds almost made me pass out.

One of them picked up a heavy iron rod.

I tasted blood as something hard connected with my jaw. A tooth came loose.

The next day, Evertt came to visit.

My face was a mess of bruises. My arm hung limply at my side.

His face twitched when he saw me.

"Are you satisfied now?" I asked, my voice raspy.

He looked away. "Kylee is pregnant. It's not a good place for her to be."

"Just hold on a little longer, for her," he pleaded. "I promise I'll get you out soon."

I let out a dry, rasping sound that might have been a laugh. "You know I didn't do it, don't you, Evertt?"

His body went rigid. His expression was strained. "I'll make it up to you when you get out," he promised.

His phone rang. It was Kylee. He heard her complain about feeling unwell.

He stood up abruptly, his visit over. "I have to go."

He left without another word.