Chapter 4
So all that coldness, all that cruelty from Sylas. Was that him being soft?
The shame burned through me like fire, and I shoved him away with everything I had.
In the scuffle, Michelle–who had just walked in–was accidentally nicked by the knife.
She screamed. Anastasia came running in, panic all over her face.
She grabbed Michelle and turned to me, eyes full of fury.
“I knew you wanted to get rid of me, but what did Michelle ever do to you?!” she shouted. “How could you hurt a child?”
Slap. Sylas’s hand came down hard, knocking me straight to the ground.
“Even wild animals don’t harm their young,” he spat. “You’re worse than a beast. You don’t deserve to be Michelle’s mother.”
I watched helplessly as they rushed out carrying Michelle. I tried to follow, panicked, and heartbroken.
But Michelle turned around, her face twisted in hatred.
“Stay away from me!” she yelled.
“I don’t want you! I hate you!”
My legs felt like they were filled with lead.
Every step I took shredded my heart a little more.
I bit back tears and kept going anyway.
At the hospital, I found out Michelle needed a blood transfusion.
I didn’t hesitate. Despite their shouting and pushing, I held out my arm.
But then I heard the doctor say something that froze me in place.
“Michelle is type A. I’m sorry, but your blood type doesn’t match. You can’t donate.”
Everything inside me went still.
Michelle, the daughter I carried for ten months. The child I nearly died delivering from massive blood loss.
The reason I had to have my womb removed was.
And now, the doctor was saying she wasn’t even my biological daughter?
Anastasia stepped forward, her face smug and triumphant.
“Kiara, all your efforts were for nothing.
“You didn’t know, did you? Michelle is my daughter. Mine and Sylas’s.
“Sylas begged me for a child–my child. I was generous enough to give you one of my eggs. You were just the surrogate.”
I turned to Sylas, numb.
“Tell me she’s lying. Tell me, Michelle’s my daughter.”
He didn’t even pretend. His eyes were filled with disgust.
“You? Carry my child?
“You were lucky. I even gave you the title of Mrs. Howell.
Chapter
“If Orlando could have kids–and if getting Anastasia pregnant wouldn’t have ruined her–do you really think I’d stoop to using you?”
I stumbled back, barely able to stand.
Then I remembered something. Right before the pregnancy, there was one night I mysteriously passed out.
I thought it was just exhaustion–what I never realized was that, that night, Sylas had arranged for doctors to implant their embryo into my body.
They used me. Used me like a damn vessel.
Sylas’s voice brought me back.
“Anastasia’s back now. I’m not leaving her again.
“I’ll divorce you. I’m going to give her the wedding she deserves. The three of us–our family–have been separated for too long.
“But as long as you stay quiet and behave, you can keep living here. You’ll work as Anastasia’s maid.”
The arrogance on his face made me laugh–loud, wild, unhinged. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably.
“Sylas, we’ve been divorced. But don’t worry. When your precious wedding day comes, I’ll be sure to deliver the perfect gift,” I thought.
I grabbed my phone and texted Arnold.
“It’s time. Bring that person home.”
