Chapter 4

The world tilted on its axis. Hayley' s stomach churned violently, and a tremor started in her fingertips, spreading through her entire body. The taste in her mouth turned to ash.

"What did you say?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Karina' s smile was pure poison. "Don't look at me like that," she said, her tone light and airy. "It was Dean's idea. He said the cat was shedding all over the furniture. He said it was a nuisance."

Hayley closed her eyes, a wave of blackness washing over her. Dean. It was always Dean. The cruelty wasn't just Karina's; it was his. He had sanctioned it. He had ordered the murder of the only living thing that had ever shown her unconditional love in this house.

She remembered bringing Sketch home, a tiny ball of fluff. Dean had seemed amused, even stroking his soft fur once. He had watched her play with the kitten, a small, unreadable smile on his face. It was all a lie. Every moment was a lie.

She scrambled off the bed, her mind screaming. She had to see. She had to know for sure. She stumbled towards the door, a desperate, gut-wrenching need to find Sketch's little bed, his food bowl, anything.

As she passed Karina, the other woman stuck out her foot. Hayley, weak and disoriented, went sprawling to the floor. The remains of the soup bowl shattered around her, its contents spattering across the expensive white rug.

At that exact moment, Dean walked into the room. He took in the scene at a glance: Hayley on the floor amidst the mess, and Karina standing nearby, a single drop of hot liquid on her pristine dress.

"Dean!" Karina cried, rushing to his side. "I was just trying to give Hayley the soup, but she threw it at me! She said... she said she wished it was my blood."

Hayley pushed herself up, her eyes wild with grief and rage. "You killed my cat," she screamed at him, her voice raw. "You told her to kill Sketch!"

Dean' s face was a thundercloud. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, his voice dripping with impatience. He turned his attention to Karina, dabbing at the spot on her dress with his handkerchief. "Another tantrum. It's getting tedious."

He then looked back at Hayley, his eyes as cold as a winter sea. "Clean this up," he ordered the maids. "And make her drink every last drop."

He then wrapped an arm around Karina's shoulders and led her out of the room, murmuring comforts only for her ears.

The maids dragged Hayley to her feet and forced her to her knees in front of the spill. They scooped the disgusting, lukewarm concoction from the carpet and forced it into her mouth. She choked, gagged, and vomited, her body rebelling against the horror. The maids held her down until the floor was clean, their faces impassive.

She spent the next hour heaving over the toilet, her body wracked with spasms, until there was nothing left inside her but a hollow, burning grief.

When the vomiting finally subsided, she lay on the cold bathroom floor, limp and broken. Her hidden phone, tucked into the waistband of her jeans, vibrated. She fumbled for it with trembling hands. It was Brennen.

"It's time," his voice was calm and steady, a lifeline in the chaos. "Are you ready to get what I need?"

"Yes," Hayley whispered, her voice a dry rasp. The last shred of hope was gone. There was nothing left to lose.

"The transaction is still valid?" she asked, needing to hear it one more time.

"My word is my bond, Hayley," he said. "Get me the file, and you will never have to see him again."

She pulled herself up, using the sink for support. Every muscle ached. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale and tear-streaked, her eyes hollowed out. But beneath the pain, a new expression was forming. A cold, hard resolve.

She walked out of the room and down the hall to Dean's study. The door was slightly ajar. She peered inside. Dean was sitting on the sofa, and Karina was curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder. He was dabbing at a tiny, almost invisible scratch on her arm with an antiseptic wipe, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Does it still hurt?" he murmured, his voice laced with a tenderness that made Hayley' s stomach clench.

"A little," Karina whimpered. "Hayley's nails are so sharp."

Hayley's hand balled into a fist. That loving gentleness... he had shown it to her once. After the car crash, when he had found her in the hospital, he had held her hand just like that, his face a mask of worry. She had thought he loved her.

She was not just a replacement. She was a practice dummy. He had rehearsed his love on her, perfected his gentle touches and worried glances, all for Karina.

Karina must have sensed her presence. She looked up, her eyes meeting Hayley's through the crack in the door. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face.

"Dean," she said softly, "Hayley's here. I think she wants to apologize."

Dean looked up, his expression immediately hardening into one of cold contempt. "What do you want?"

"You're nothing but a pet I keep," he said, his voice slicing through her. "And a disobedient one at that. Don't forget your place again, or next time, it won't be just your cat."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Hayley felt her body sway.

Karina giggled and pulled Dean toward a small, private lounge connected to the study. "Come on, Dean. Don't let her ruin our evening."

The door to the lounge clicked shut. Hayley stood frozen for a moment, the insult echoing in her ears. Then, she moved.

She knew exactly what to look for. Brennen had described a blue folder, hidden in a secret compartment behind a row of law books. As she searched, she heard muffled sounds from the lounge. A soft giggle from Karina, a low murmur from Dean.

Her hands trembled as she pulled out the books. Her fingers fumbled for the hidden latch. The sounds from the other room grew more distinct, more intimate.

Hayley squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block them out. Her mind felt like it was splitting in two. One half was screaming in agony, while the other was a cold, focused machine, intent on its task. She could not focus. The sounds were a constant, tormenting reminder of her place in this house.