Chapter 3
The moment the words left his mouth, Damien tossed my cat into the scalding pot.
A blood–curdling scream echoed through the room.
I lunged forward, but he grabbed me and slammed my face against the table, forcing me to watch my only companion for the past ten years be boiled alive.
He leaned close, whispering into my ear with terrifying calm, “This time, it’s the cat. Next time, i
you ever touch Vivian again, it might be mother.”
your
Tears slid down silently from the corners of my eyes.
The scenes of him once protecting me in front of those other women now came back like a cruel
joke.
He slid a divorce agreement in front of me.
“Sign it. My child can’t be born a bastard.”
I stared at the cat floating in the pot, my entire body shaking.
That cat had been my only comfort when Mom and I were thrown out of the house.
Now it, too, was gone.
Just like her.
This marriage meant nothing anymore.
I took the pen and signed my name with no hesitation.
Damien frowned subtly at my lack of resistance and scoffed.
“Well, if you’re no longer Mrs. Lancaster, move into the servants‘ quarters. From now on, your mother’s medical bills are your responsibility–earn it yourself.”
I forced a smile, recalling Mom’s dying words.
“No need,” I said quietly.
Just then, I heard retching sounds from my room.
if
My stomach dropped. I rushed in, only to find vomit splattered all over the bedsheet my mother had
Chapter 3
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handwoven for me.
Vivian stood up, her expression feigning guilt.
“Sorry, sis. I couldn’t hold it in.”
She pulled out a ten–dollar bill and handed it to me.
“Here. The sheet looks old anyway. This should cover it.”
Smack!
My eyes burned red with fury as I slapped her across the face.
“Vivian Monroe, you’ve gone too far!”
She clutched her cheek and turned tearfully to Damien.
“I didn’t mean to! I already said sorry!”
In the next instant, my cheek exploded with pain.
He had slapped me–full force and didn’t even glance at me afterward.
Instead, he walked over to Vivian and gently examined her face.
“Feel better now?”
Vivian whimpered and leaned into his arms.
“It was my fault. I ruined the sheet…”
Damien’s gaze finally fell on the soiled bed.
“Burn it.”
“No! That was from my mother! I’ll clean it myself–please, don’t burn it!”
He knew.
He knew I had nightmares every night and that this sheet was the only thing that helped me sleep.
And yet, he ignored the desperation in my eyes.
“To welcome the new Mrs. Lancaster,” he told the maid coldly, “get rid of all this old junk.
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Crash!
The wedding photo on the wall was knocked down and thrown out with the rest.
But in my ears still echoed his vow from the day we took that picture, “I, Damien Lancaster, will only love Jasmine Sinclair in this lifetime.”
As the bed sheet caught fire, I threw myself toward the flames, grabbing it bare–handed and using my body to smother the fire.
Blisters instantly formed on my hands.
Damien rushed over and grabbed me.
His voice sharp.
“Does it hurt?”
Chapter 3
