Chapter 3
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Stephen noticed the bandage on my leg, his eyes flickering.
He said, “Dorothy’s art exhibition opens today. She keeps saying she wants you to see it. You should come with us.”
His words sounded like condescending charity.
Since when had my presence become some grand mercy bestowed by Stephen?
I felt the artificial heart laboring in my chest.
Suddenly, I remembered our family trip to the amusement park years ago.
Mandy had smiled, holding cotton candy to my lips while Stephen cooled me with a handheld fan.
But now, everything had changed.
Mandy complained unhappily, “Dad, why should she come to the exhibition? She’s such a killjoy!”
Stephen pinched her cheek. “With me here, she won’t bully Aunt Dorothy.”
I’d intended to coexist peacefully with Dorothy, but she wouldn’t let me be.
She linked arms with me, feigning enthusiasm, pretending not to notice me pulling away.
“Michelle, doesn’t this award–winning painting look familiar?” she asked, gesturing to the canvas.
My gaze fixed on the painting titled “Heartbeat.”
I’d created it while pregnant, listening to Mandy’s heartbeat within me.
Dorothy watched me triumphantly, whispering in my ear:
“Michelle, you blind woman. Taking you out just makes Stephen and Mandy targets for ridicule.”
“Your broken body disgusts me. Leave before you embarrass yourself further.”
“I couldn’t stand how you had everything–talent, a perfect family. You didn’t deserve it!”
“Your husband, your child, they’ll belong to me like this painting does.”
Years ago, I’d pitied this orphaned junior student and brought her home.
Little did know I’d invited a wolf into my house.
Dorothy flashed a vicious smile.
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Chapter 3
Suddenly, she slashed her own hand with a knife and screamed dramatically.
When Stephen rushed over, he found only a panicked me and Dorothy bleeding profusely.
“Stephen, don’t blame Michelle. This was my fault,” Dorothy sobbed.
“I shouldn’t have invited her. Knowing she can’t paint anymore… I upset her.”
He snapped, kicking me square in the chest.
Each breath tasted metallic as my artificial heart convulsed violently, blood pounding at my temples.
“I didn’t hurt her! Dorothy did it herself—”
Before I finished explaining, his foot came down on my right hand. Fingers snapped like twigs.
“Michelle, you’re despicable.”
“If Dorothy’s hand suffers permanent damage, I’ll sever every tendon in yours!”
He carried the weeping Dorothy away without glancing at me crumpled in agony.
I woke in a hospital bed.
The doctor said sternly, “Your heart’s given its fifth warning. Get family to sign for tests immediately.”
I smiled bitterly. What family?
Yet Stephen answered my call immediately.
“Michelle, what scheme are you plotting now?”
“Hurt Dorothy then play the victim?”
I sighed softly. “Stephen, my heart really isn’t-”
He hesitated, then relented.
“Once Dorothy’s stitches are done, I’ll take you for tests.”
The sky darkened, but I didn’t wait for Stephen.
Instead, I got a message from Dorothy.
[Michelle, Stephen’s making dinner for me. Little Man’s playing the piano for me.]
[Don’t you get it? Even if you died right in front of them, no one would even look at you.]
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