Chapter 3

HAZEL POV:

"A skin graft?" My voice was a raw, disbelieving croak. "You want them to take skin from my leg... for her?"

Carter had the decency to look away. "It's just a small piece, Hazel. They said it would heal quickly. It's for the best."

For the best. The words were a mockery. I had understood when he couldn't touch me. I had understood when he preferred her company to mine. I had understood being abandoned on a mountainside. But this? This was a new level of cruelty. He wanted to mutilate my body for the woman carrying his child.

A surge of rage, hot and powerful, flooded through me. "Get out," I screamed, my voice cracking. "GET OUT!"

I swiped my arm across the bedside table, sending a water pitcher crashing to the floor.

Carter flinched, his jaw tightening. "Hazel-"

"Mr. Hancock," a nurse called from the doorway. "Your grandfather is on the line."

He shot me one last look, a mixture of frustration and impatience, before turning and walking out.

I looked down at my left hand. The wedding ring felt heavy, foreign. It had always been a little too big. A stand-in ring for a stand-in wife. With a bitter laugh that turned into a sob, I pulled it off my finger and threw it with all my might. It hit the window with a soft clink and disappeared into the bushes below.

I spent two days in that hospital. Carter visited twice, brief, perfunctory visits filled with empty apologies about being busy with "company business."

The nurses whispered in the hallway. I heard my name, followed by Jodie's.

"Can you believe it? He leaves his wife, who has broken ribs, to sit with the sister-in-law who just has some scratches."

"I heard the sister-in-law is pregnant. They say Mr. Hancock is the father."

"Poor Mrs. Hancock. What a terrible marriage."

I closed my eyes, the words a fresh wave of humiliation.

When I was discharged, Carter was waiting by the main entrance. He took my bag, his touch making my skin crawl.

"I'm sorry I wasn't around more," he said, his voice unnaturally gentle. "Things have been crazy at the office."

I didn't answer. I walked past him and got into the back seat of the car.

Back at the Hancock estate, Bertrand Hancock, the family patriarch, was waiting. He was a formidable man, his face etched with the lines of power and tradition. He rushed forward, his eyes filled with concern as he took my hands.

"My dear Hazel, you've suffered," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

He turned to Carter. "Carter was reckless. But he was worried about Jodie, you know how it is. Don't hold it against him."

He was making excuses for him. Even him.

He gestured to the staff, who brought forward boxes of expensive gifts. It was a payment for my silence, for my pain.

Then, he took a small, velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a magnificent diamond necklace, a famous piece known as "The Hancock Star." It was the family heirloom, passed down to the wife of each generation.

He clasped it around my neck. "You are the only Mrs. Hancock I will ever recognize," he said, his voice firm. He glanced pointedly over my shoulder towards the hallway, where Jodie had just appeared. He was making a statement.

Jodie's face went white. She mumbled an excuse about feeling unwell and fled up the stairs.

Carter started to follow her, but a sharp look from his grandfather stopped him in his tracks.

I looked down at the cool, heavy diamonds on my skin. It felt like a gilded cage. I knew what I had to do. Later that evening, I went to the study to return it.

As I approached the study door, I heard their voices again, raised in anger.

"Why would you give her the Star?" Carter demanded. "It belongs to the matriarch! It should be for Jodie!"

"I will say this one last time," Bertrand's voice was like stone. "I only recognize Hazel as your wife. That... woman will never have that title."

"It doesn't matter what you recognize!" Carter's voice was strained, desperate. "My marriage certificate with Hazel is a fake! I'm already legally married to Jodie!"

The world stopped. A fake. The piece of paper I had cherished was a forgery.

My body trembled violently. I turned and ran, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Back in my room, I tore through my safe until I found it. The marriage certificate. My hands shook as I unfolded it. And there it was. A glaring typo in the city clerk's name. A detail I had been too blissfully happy to ever notice.

I was not his wife. I was his mistress, unknowingly.

I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound that turned into weeping.

The next thing I knew, a maid was shaking me awake, pulling me from the bed.

"Mrs. Finley! Come quickly!"

She dragged me downstairs to the living room. On the floor, the Hancock Star lay, its chain broken, diamonds scattered. Bertrand stood over it, his face a mask of thunder.

The maid pointed a trembling finger at me. "It was her! I saw her come down and smash it!" she cried. "I've worked for this family for twenty years! I would never lie!"

Bertrand's cold eyes fixed on me. "Hazel, did you do this?"

Before I could deny it, my gaze fell on Jodie, standing in the corner. In her hand, she was holding a photograph. A picture of my frail, elderly parents, smiling, completely vulnerable. It was a threat.

My mouth went dry. My voice was a whisper. "Yes. I broke it."

Bertrand's face was a stone wall of disappointment. "I'm very disappointed in you, Hazel. You will stay in your room until you understand your mistake."