My Mother Cut Me Apart For My Sister Chapter 06

My Mother Cut Me Apart For My Sister Chapter 06

Mom staggered. She read the results once, twice, three times like the words might rearrange themselves if she stared long enough. She was barely standing when she turned to the colleague beside her, voice cracking. 

“Dennis… my eyes – I can’t see straight. Can you read it for me? Tell me what it says.” 

Dennis Miller’s voice was raw. “Ms. Hayes… I’m so sorry.” 

Her fingertips went white around the edge of the report. The 

world tilted beneath her. 

“No. That’s impossible.” Her voice climbed. “Stella doesn’t 

have it in her – she would never teach in some village! And 

she couldn’t – she wouldn’t have been killed doing something like that—” 

A small body slammed into her from the side. A little girl 

shoved Mom to the ground with both hands. 

“Don’t you DARE talk about Miss Hayes like that! She was the 

best person I ever met!” 

“She didn’t have a bad bone in her body! When my stepdad 

came after me, she stood right between us. He threw her down 

a flight of stairs, and her arm broke–the bone actually 

snapped–but she still wouldn’t let him near me!” 

“My last name’s Cole. Everyone told me I was worthless–that I’d end up in the system or dead before I turned eighteen.” The girl’s voice shook. “Miss Hayes was the only one who told me I 

was special. She said it over and over until I believed her.” 

“Don’t you DARE talk about her!” 

Mom lunged toward the girl like she was a life raft. She grabbed Mia Cole by the shoulders, eyes wild. 

“Stella’s not dead, right? Tell me she’s not dead.” She was 

shaking. “She put you up to this–she’s watching this whole thing play out and laughing at me right now, isn’t she?” 

Mia shoved her off. There was something in that child’s eyes a bitterness, a fury – that no kid her age should carry. 

“She’s dead. They didn’t even leave her in one piece.” 

Mia jabbed a finger at the bloodstained knife the forensic team had recovered. “I saw the person who hit her. They had that 

knife.” 

“I hid under the porch. I saw it through the window, in the moonlight.” Her voice broke. “I wanted to save her. I was too 

small.” 

“But Miss Hayes always said I had a gift for drawing. She taught me for six months.” Mia’s chin lifted. “So I drew the 

face of the person who attacked her. Every detail. In my 

notebook.” 

The officer seized on it. “Where’s the notebook? Can you show 

me?” 

Mia pulled a carefully folded sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it over. 

The officer unfolded it. His face drained of color. 

The woman in the drawing was my mother. 

Mom caught his expression and reached for the paper. “Who is 

it? Show me – I’ll make sure she pays for this!” 

She looked down. Her hands began to shake. 

“That’s… that’s not possible.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

“This isn’t me. Someone’s impersonating me.” 

The police brought Victor back out. He sat down, crossed his 

legs, and peered at them through half–lidded eyes. 

“Oh? So you finally believe me.” A lazy grin. “Took you long 

enough.” 

The officer slammed his palm on the table. “Enough games. 

Walk us through the crime. Start to finish.” 

– 

Victor’s eyes lit up. “Gladly. So I was on the run, right? 

Ended up in this city, figured I’d lay low for a minute and move 

1. on. Then some manager reaches out and says her client wants 

somebody taken care of.” 

“Easy money. I said yes on the spot.” He leaned back. “That 

– 

night, I knocked the girl out with a hammer. And then what 

– 

was her name — right, Chloe shows up.” 

“Chloe stood over her and just… went off. Screaming, calling 

her every name in the book. I didn’t catch all of it, but the gist 

was clear — she hated that girl. Something about her being too talented, too good. Whatever.” 

– 

“Chloe asks what to do with the body. I said toss it somewhere 

remote- I’ve got a hundred and nineteen kills on my record, 

what’s one more?” 

“But your sweet little Chloe had a better idea.” Victor whistled. 

“She had me stuff the girl in a heavy–duty black bag. Said she was going to take it home. Said her mother, the brilliant medical examiner, was an expert at ‘processing game meat‘ in 

her sterile little lab.” 

“I didn’t stick around to watch. But I know how you forensic 

people work–under those bright clinical lights, making clean, 

precise cuts. I almost feel bad for the girl. Waking up in her 

own home, under her own mother’s scalpel.” 

“Anyway. Mom left with Chloe when the job was done. I 

handled the rest. What got eaten got eaten. What got fed to the dogs got fed to the dogs. Didn’t take long.” 

The officer pressed forward. “You said Chloe paid you five 

million. So why turn on her now?” 

Victor’s smile sharpened. “I hate being told what to do. And 

this seemed like the perfect chance to drag her down with 

me.”