I wept in Ethan’s arms, my tears soaking through his shirt. To anyone watching, I appeared devastated by grief over Lily’s death. But hidden against his chest, my lips curled into a
satisfied smile.
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, my voice breaking perfectly. “If only I hadn’t called you that day…”
My mind drifted back to that pivotal afternoon five years ago. I remembered how I’d deliberately called Ethan away when Lily was critically ill. I knew exactly what I was doing
when I made that call, claiming Emma needed him urgently.
I had watched Olivia’s desperate calls light up Ethan’s phone throughout the day. Each time, I’d casually dismissed the notifications before he could see them. I hadn’t deleted them–that would have been too obvious. I simply made sure he was too distracted to notice.
“Emma needs you,” I had told him, my voice trembling with manufactured concern. “The doctors say her condition is worsening.”
Lily had always been in my way–a constant reminder that Ethan had chosen Olivia first. The child’s emerald eyes, so like her mother’s, seemed to see through my facade. Even at four years old, she had regarded me with suspicion.
And she had been right to do so. I had never wanted her happiness. I had wanted her gone.
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