After Losing My Legs I Learned My Fiancé Had a Fake Heart Chapter 02

After Losing My Legs I Learned My Fiancé Had a Fake Heart Chapter 02

Back at the estate, Chloe was trying on wedding gowns. She rose onto her toes and twirled like a little princess.

I remembered the intimate photos she’d sent me. [Vera, you trained Simon so well. I’m very satisfied.]

My brother Derek gazed at her with pure adoration. Simon turned to me with a warning look. “Chloe’s in a good mood today. Smile. Don’t just stand there looking like you just swallowed something bitter.”

I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the bloodstained dress in the trash.

Chloe gasped and stumbled into Simon’s arms, eyes already glistening with tears.

“I’m so sorry, sis. Fluffball got hurt, and I accidentally used your performance dress. You’re not mad at me, right?”

My dress had been buried in the deepest corner of my closet. She really had to work to “accidentally” find it.

Simon tapped her nose, his voice dripping with indulgence. “She doesn’t even have legs anymore. What would she need a dance dress for? Everything she has belongs to this family—and to you, little princess.”

“Vera, smile. Don’t ruin this for her.”

I didn’t respond. I wheeled myself over to the trash, struggling to pull out the ruined dress.

Derek snapped, “Can you stop competing with her over every little thing? You don’t even have legs anymore, and you’re still trying to dress up and go toe-to-toe with Chloe?”

“Her depression just stabilized, and she pushed to get you discharged from the hospital. And this is how you repay her—picking fights for attention?”

With effort, I lifted the dress and held it out to him. “That’s not what this is, Derek. I just wanted to give this back to the person it actually belongs to.”

Derek froze. Then he remembered. He’d given me this dress for my eighteenth birthday.

Our mother died when I was young, and from the time I was ten, it was just him and me. Our father poured every ounce of energy into his mistress, practically praying for Derek to die so his bastard could inherit everything.

They couldn’t trust a housekeeper. I was three years younger, barely tall enough to reach the stove, but I made his breakfast every morning. I quit dance class and held his hand tight on the way to school, terrified I’d watch Dad send him to the hospital again.

Back then, Derek swore to himself: when he grew up, he’d buy his sister a dance dress every year. By graduation, he’d watch her shine on stage.

I spoke evenly. “Mr. Channing, since this dress was a gift for your sister, I don’t want it anymore.” And I don’t want you as my brother either.

Derek’s brow furrowed. He stepped forward. “What did you call me? Mr. Channing?”

Chloe suddenly shrieked. “Blood! Get it away! Get it away from me!” Her hands flailed wildly. Simon gathered her into his arms, frantic.

Derek exploded. He smacked the dress out of my hands so hard my wheelchair tipped sideways. “Enough! So that’s what this was about. I told you already—Chloe coming home doesn’t change anything for you. Why can’t you just accept her?”

Chloe hiccupped between sobs, then her eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the floor.

“Chloe!” Derek lurched forward and knocked my wheelchair over.

I slammed onto the ground.

“Doctor! We need a doctor!” The two men tore out of the house, Chloe in their arms.

The Ridges Estate fell silent.