The Man She Loved For Ten Years Let Her Father Die To Protect His Mistress Chapter 02

The Man She Loved For Ten Years Let Her Father Die To Protect His Mistress Chapter 02

When I woke up, Sienna was sitting at my bedside. The second I stirred, she leaned over me, her eyes rimmed with performative concern. “Evelyn, how are you feeling?”

“She’s fine.”

Adrian pushed the curtain aside and walked in. Beyond him, not far away, sat my father’s casket.

And all at once, I remembered.

The day my father died, Adrian and Sienna had been all over each other on this very bed.

The thought hit me so hard it felt like my skin had broken out in hives.

I scrambled back, nearly tumbling onto the floor in my desperation to escape the tainted sheets.

Sienna cried out and rushed over to steady me. “At least eat something first, then you can go back out for the visitation.”

“Get off me! Don’t touch me!”

I shoved her away and doubled over, gagging as if I’d touched something filthy.

I hadn’t eaten in days, leaving me to heave nothing but bitter bile until my throat burned.

Adrian let out a cold laugh. “Sienna, don’t bother. You treat her like your best friend, and she treats you like hired help.”

Best friend?

What kind of best friend sleeps with your husband behind your back?

What kind of best friend hooks up with him in front of your father’s casket?

“Adrian, don’t say that.” Sienna bit back tears donning the mask of the wounded martyr.

“Evelyn, it’s not what you think. You know about my condition. He was only helping me.”

Yes.

I knew.

Sienna had always claimed she suffered from severe touch-deprivation disorder, that when it got bad enough, she would spiral and hurt herself if no one grounded her.

Once, years ago, she’d confessed in private that one of the reasons she went into medicine was because she wanted to cure herself.

I had felt sorry for her.

I had even tried setting her up with men more than once, and every single time, she turned me down, saying she just wasn’t interested.

Turns out Adrian had been the treatment all along.

Every late shift they worked. Every so-called hospital retreat.

Every night they stayed behind together. It was never about saving lives; it was about their sordid little fix.

And I had been stupid enough not to see it.

I hadn’t seen the scratches down Adrian’s back.

Hadn’t noticed the lily perfume on his skin that belonged to Sienna and no one else.

I looked at her and said through clenched teeth, “You’re not sick, Sienna. You’re just pathetic.”

Then I grabbed the first thing within reach and hurled it at her.

Something crashed. Then something else. In the chaos, one of the objects clipped her cheek, leaving a thin cut across her face.

That was enough for Adrian.

He crossed the room in two strides, seized both my wrists, and roughly tied them to the bedframe.

“Evelyn Wren, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He stared at me like I was the unreasonable one. “Have I treated you badly all these years?”

“Everyone envied your life. You stayed home all day, did whatever you wanted, trimmed flowers, bought designer bags, and never had to worry about cooking or cleaning because we had staff for that.”

“Sienna had to survive by scrubbing in for back-to-back surgeries, and on top of that she had to live in fear that you’d find out.”

“So what exactly are you unhappy about?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

He was the one who had told me he couldn’t stand the thought of me stressing over a career. He was the one who built this gilded cage and told me it was a palace.

He was the one who used to smile, kiss my forehead, and say, “I make money so my wife can spend it.”

I had given up my own career for him. I had stepped back, run our home, supported his ambitions, and built my life around his.

And now he was looking at me as if I were some useless ornament, accusing me of having it easier than his mistress.

Of course he was.

It had all been an act.

Back then, even a thorn prick from arranging roses would make him fuss over me for half an hour. Now he watched the cloth cut into my wrists, and his eyes remained cold as flint.

My eyes burned again.

Just then, Landon rushed in.

He frowned when he saw my wrists, and for one brief second, I caught something like distress in his eyes. “Mom, you’re hurting. Let me help.”

He had barely taken a step forward before Adrian stopped him cold.

“She hurt your Aunt Sienna.”

Landon froze instantly.

I lowered my eyes. I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. “Let me go. My father’s about to be buried.”

“No.”

Landon moved in front of me on his own, standing there like a little guard.

He looked down at me and said, with all the certainty in the world, “Mom, if we let you out there, you’re just going to make a scene and embarrass us.”

I looked at the boy in front of me, still young enough to have softness in his face, and felt my heart tear all over again.