He Jilted Me at the Altar. I Married His Enemy by Midnight. Chapter 09

He Jilted Me at the Altar. I Married His Enemy by Midnight. Chapter 09

They questioned me for six hours.

Where was I between 7 and 8 a.m.? Alone, dressing, in a house the staff hadn’t entered Could anyone confirm? No. Did I have motive to harm my sister? The detective slid that morning’s headlines across the table without a word. Two hundred million witnesses to my motive.

Sienna’s statement was a masterpiece. The stairwell of the Meridian Hotel, 7:40 a.m. My hands on her shoulders. My voice hissing you took everything, now I take something back. Her fall. Her miscarriage- Julian’s baby, conceived in love, destroyed by her bitter, barren-hearted sister.

She’d even scraped her own palms.

My mother gave a statement too. My own mother. [Aria has always been jealous of Sienna. Always. Since

they were children.J

I sat in that gray room, eight weeks pregnant, wrists aching to be cuffed, and somewhere around hour four the old voice started up in my skull: no one will believe you, no one has ever believed you, they will take your baby and give your life to her because they have always, always given your life to her-

Then the door opened.

Damian came through it with four attorneys and an expression that made the detective physically step back,

and he crossed the room, crouched in front of my chair, and took both my ice-cold hands in his.

Look at me.J

I looked at him.

Nine years ago you told a dead man on a curb that rain ends. His voice was low and absolutely level.

Rain ends, Aria. I need you to stay for the part after. Can you do that for me?j

I took a breath. The first real one in six hours.

She was never at the Meridian to meet a friend, I said slowly, and I heard my own voice change-stop

shaking, start thinking. Sienna doesn’t rise before ten. She hates that hotel; it’s my mother’s, not hers. She

was there at 7:40 in the morning, in a stairwell with no cameras-she scouted it. Damian, she scouted it.

Which means somewhere there’s a record of her scouting it.J

Something fierce and proud lit behind his eyes. “There’s my wife.J

And-j my pulse was climbing now, but for the right reasons, -get her medical records. The

miscarriage. Every accusation dies or lives on that record.j

“Her family’s already sealed them, said the lead attorney. “Filed for privacy protection at noon Judge

granted it.j

“Of course they did. I closed my eyes. Think. Think. Sienna, sixteen, faking mono for a month to skip

finals-the pediatrician who wouldn’t lie for her, so my mother switched doctors. Sienna never used doctors

she couldn’t manage. Which meant the hospital last night was chosen. Prepared. Except-

Except paramedics don’t ask your preference. Paramedics take you to the nearest ER.

St. Augustine’s, I said, eyes flying open. The Meridian’s nearest ER is St. Augustine’s-it’s not her hospital, it’s not Mother’s network, they’d have run standard bloodwork before anyone could coach them.

Damian. The first hour of records. Before the family lawyers arrived. Before anything was sealed.j

The room went very quiet.

Damian rose, pulled out his phone, and said five words to whoever answered:

St. Augustine’s. First-hour intake. Everything.J

We were released at 9 p.m.-pending investigation,

which meant they had nothing and knew it. Damian

tucked me into the car like something breakable, and I was half asleep against his shoulder, wrung out to the

soul, when his phone buzzed.

He read the message. Went completely still.

“What? I straightened. Is it bad?j

He turned the screen toward me. A message from his investigator. A photograph of a single intake document, stamped ST. AUGUSTINE’S EMERGENCY – 8:02 A.M., with one line highlighted.

I read it.

I read it again.

And I started to laugh-wild, disbelieving, tears streaming-because printed on that first-hour, pre-lawyer, un-coached, un-sealable record were five words:

Serum hCG: negative. Patient not pregnant.

Damian, I breathed. There was never a baby.J

“There was never a baby.J