The Gift from My Brothers for My Birthday Was My Mother’s Broken Bangle Chapter 04

The Gift from My Brothers for My Birthday Was My Mother’s Broken Bangle Chapter 04

Dashiell’s shove sent me stumbling backward.

My lower back slammed into an easel, pain shooting through me so sharply that my vision blurred. I did not even flinch.

My three brothers closed ranks around Pippa, shielding her while red paint streamed down her hair and clothes.

Anyone looking at them would have thought she was the Rivington daughter they had failed.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m irrational.”

I wiped the paint from my hands and walked out of the studio.

I did not cause another scene.

I locked myself in my bedroom and stayed there all day without eating.

By nightfall, my stomach was cramping so violently that I curled into myself on the bed. Cold sweat soaked through my pajamas.

Early the next morning, someone broke the lock.

A housekeeper entered carrying a steaming bowl of oatmeal.

“Miss Rivington, Mr. Dashiell asked the kitchen to make this for you. Please try to eat something.”

I was too hungry to think through the pain.

Forcing myself upright, I took the bowl and swallowed one spoonful.

There was a faint, unfamiliar sweetness beneath the oatmeal.

Then my throat began to tighten.

I had suffered from a severe peanut allergy since childhood. Even trace exposure could trigger rapid swelling in my airway.

There was peanut butter in the oatmeal.

I hurled the bowl to the floor and clawed at my throat, trying to force myself to vomit.

It was already too late.

My airway swelled shut within seconds. The room darkened at the edges as I pitched out of bed and hit the floor.

“Miss Rivington!”

The housekeeper’s scream faded into the distance.

When I opened my eyes again, harsh hospital lights burned above me.

My throat felt shredded from the breathing tube they had removed, and every breath beneath the oxygen mask felt like swallowing broken glass.

I shifted my gaze toward the foot of the bed.

Pippa stood there wearing my favorite silk pajamas, slowly peeling an apple with a paring knife.

We were alone.

The moment she realized I was awake, she set the knife aside and approached the bed.

There was no fear in her face now. No trembling lips. No helpless tears.

She leaned close to my ear, her voice stripped of every trace of sweetness.

“You finally woke up.”

Her mouth curved into a smile.

“While you were upstairs going into anaphylactic shock, your brothers were downstairs celebrating my birthday.”

I glared at her, but my damaged throat could produce only a strained, rasping sound.

Pippa’s smile widened.

“I put the peanut butter in your oatmeal.”

She tilted her head, slipping easily back into that innocent tone she used around my brothers.

“I thought being such a picky eater was a bad habit. I only wanted to help you get over it.”

Her eyes turned cold again.

“Who knew you were fragile enough to almost die?”

She patted my cheek.

“Your brothers think you’re dangerous now. You hurt yourself, destroy things, and lose control whenever you don’t get your way.”

“They’ve decided you need treatment somewhere secure.”

Her fingers brushed the edge of my oxygen mask.

“They’re sending you to Stonecrop Behavioral Institute.”

She leaned closer.

“Once you’re gone, I’ll keep them company.”

Her gaze traveled over the room as though she could already see everything she planned to take.

“Your bedroom. Your clothes. Your place in the family.”

“Eventually, all of it will be mine.”

My pulse spiked. The heart monitor erupted into a shrill alarm.

I stared at the triumph on her face.

Then I stopped struggling.

A second later, I ripped off the oxygen mask and smiled at her.