23 A Truth He Can’t Handle
As Vera’s car pulled away from the Evening Gala building, curiosity burned inside me. “What did you mean back there? About Alistair being kept in the dark?”
Vera gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white. “I’m sick of watching him play the hero while treating you like dirt. Someone needed to crack that perfect image he has of Saint Ivy.”
“But what do you know that he doesn’t?” I pressed.
A satisfied smile curled her lips. “Oh, just the fact that his precious dying fiancée is nothing but a manipulative witch who’s been plotting this whole thing.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”
“Give me twenty minutes,” she said, making a sharp turn. “There’s someone Alistair needs to
meet.”
I watched the familiar streets pass by in confused silence until Vera pulled into the parking lot of Crimson Heights Hospital. The same hospital where Ivy was receiving her cancer treatments.
“Why are we here?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“Trust me,” was all Vera said as she checked her phone. “Perfect timing. He just texted that he’s
here.”
We waited in the lobby until Alistair stormed through the automatic doors, his face flushed with anger. He spotted us immediately.
“What game are you playing, Vera?” he demanded, crossing the space between us in long, angry
strides.
Vera stood her ground. “No games. Just truth time.”
“I don’t have time for this. Ivy’s waiting for me.” He glanced at his watch impatiently.
“Is she?” Vera’s voice was cold as ice. “Or is she busy planning her next move with her mother?”
Alistair’s jaw clenched. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that your fiancée only married you to hurt Hazel, Vera said bluntly. “She’s been obsessed with taking everything Hazel loves since they were kids.”
I watched shock ripple across Alistair’s face before hardening into denial.
“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Ivy is dying. She’s not some cartoon villain.”
“Being sick doesn’t make you a saint,” Vera countered. “Cancer doesn’t cancel out cruelty.”
16:27
1/5
<
23 A Truth He Can’t Handle
Alistair turned to me, his eyes narrowing. “Did you put her up to this? Is this another attempt to make me feel guilty?”
The accusation stung. “I had no idea she was bringing us here.”
“Then what’s this about?” he demanded.
Vera stepped between us. “This is about you finally seeing the truth. Ivy Shaw has hated Hazel her entire life. She’s jealous, manipulative, and vindictive. And she married you not because she loves you, but because she wanted to steal something precious from Hazel one last time.”
Alistair’s face darkened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I don’t?” Vera crossed her arms. “Then explain why Ivy and her mother were overheard laughing about how easily you fell for their scheme. About how satisfying it was to see Hazel broken and humiliated at losing her fiancé.”
His confidence wavered visibly. “Who supposedly overheard this?”
“My aunt,” Vera replied without hesitation. “Dr. Margaret Vance, head of oncology at this very hospital. She was doing rounds when she heard Ivy and Tanya celebrating their victory.”
Blood drained from Alistair’s face. I knew he recognized the name–Dr. Vance was widely respected in medical circles.
“You’re lying,” he whispered, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Why would I lie about something so easily disproven?” Vera challenged. “Ask her yourself. She’s working right now.”
Alistair’s phone rang, breaking the tense silence. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Ivy.”
“Perfect timing,” Vera muttered.
He answered, turning slightly away from us. “Hey, I’ll be up in a minute. I just need to check something first.”
His voice sounded different–uncertain, hesitant. When he hung up, he looked torn.
“This is absurd,” he said, more to himself than to us. “Ivy loves me. She wouldn’t-”
“Wouldn’t what?” Vera interrupted. “Wouldn’t marry a man she doesn’t love just to hurt her stepsister? Because that’s exactly what she did.”
Alistair ran a hand through his hair, his carefully constructed reality crumbling. “If what you’re saying is true-”
“It is.”
“then why would Dr. Vance tell you instead of reporting it?”
Vera laughed bitterly. “Report what? Being mean isn’t a medical emergency. Besides, patient
18:27
2/5
<
23 A Truth He Can’t Handle
confidentiality applies to health information, not overheard bitching”
I watched Alistair’s internal struggle play across his face. Part of him wanted to believe his perfect narrative–that he was nobly fulfilling a dying woman’s last wish. But doubt had taken
root.
“I need to speak to Dr. Vance,” he finally said.
Vera pulled out her phone. “I’ll text her to meet us. She has a break in twenty minutes.”
While we waited in tense silence, I studied Alistair. His shoulders slumped slightly, his confident posture faltering under the weight of potential betrayal. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for
him. Almost.
“Why are you doing this?” he suddenly asked, eyes fixed on me. “Is revenge really worth all this?”
My sympathy evaporated. “This isn’t my doing. I didn’t know about any of this until just now.”
“But you’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Seeing me question everything?” His voice was bitter.
“No, Alistair. Unlike you and Ivy, I don’t take pleasure in other people’s pain.”
Before he could respond, a tall woman in a white coat approached us. Dr. Margaret Vance had the same intense eyes as her niece, but with silver–streaked hair pulled into a severe bun.
“Vera,” she greeted warmly, then nodded to us. “Is this about what I mentioned the other day?”
“Yes,” Vera confirmed. “Alistair here doesn’t believe that his bride married him as part of some twisted revenge plot against Hazel.”
Dr. Vance’s expression turned somber. “I wish I could say otherwise, young man, but I heard it clearly. I was checking charts outside Ms. Shaw’s room when I overheard her conversation with her mother. They were quite… pleased with themselves about the whole situation.”
Alistair swallowed hard. “What exactly did they say?”
“Ms. Shaw said, and I quote, ‘Hazel’s face when he chose me over her was worth all the pain of these treatments.‘ Her mother replied that it was ‘poetic justice‘ that you would wear the wedding dress Hazel made for herself.” Dr. Vance’s clinical delivery made the words cut even deeper.
I felt sick remembering how they had stolen my handmade dress. Beside me, Alistair had gone deathly pale.
“That doesn’t-” he started, then stopped. “Maybe you misunderstood.”
“I’ve been a doctor for thirty years,” Dr. Vance replied calmly. “I’m quite adept at understanding what I hear. They were laughing about how easy it was to manipulate you by playing on your guilt and nobility.”
16:27
3/5
<
23 A Truth He Can’t Handle
Each word seemed to physically strike Alistair. His breathing turned shallow.
“Why would you tell Vera this? Isn’t that unprofessional?” His voice was desperate, grasping at any reason to disbelieve.
“Normally, I wouldn’t discuss patients at all. But this wasn’t medical information–it was a personal conversation I accidentally overheard. And when Vera mentioned her friend Hazel was the victim of this scheme…” She shrugged. “Sometimes the ethical thing isn’t found in a rulebook.”
Alistair’s phone buzzed again with a text. He stared at it blankly.
“Ivy’s wondering where I am,” he muttered, looking lost.
“Now you have a choice,” Vera said, her voice softening slightly. “Continue living the lie or confront the truth.”
He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in months. “Hazel, did you know? All this time, did you know what she was doing?”
I met his gaze steadily. “I knew who Ivy was. I tried to tell you many times, but you never wanted to hear it.”
The weight of his willful blindness finally seemed to crash down on him. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the elevators, shoulders hunched like a man heading to his own execution.
As we watched him go, I turned to Vera. “Was all of that true?”
“Every word,” she confirmed. “My aunt called me yesterday, disgusted by what she’d heard. I was planning to tell you privately, but then this idiot showed up at your office.”
I leaned against the wall, overwhelmed. “So it wasn’t just in my head. Ivy really did orchestrate all of this to hurt me.”
“Of course she did.” Vera squeezed my hand. “The question now is, what will Alistair do with this truth he can’t handle?”
16:28
