Chapter 5
I spent three days in the hospital.
Victor didn't show up. Not a single call, not a single text.
It felt like I'd become invisible to him—just the crazy, shameful wife he'd rather forget.
In a way, the silence was a relief. At least it was peaceful.
On the afternoon of the third day, I was leaning against the headboard, staring blankly out at the gray sky, when the door to my hospital room was gently pushed open.
It wasn't Victor.
It was Emily.
She was dressed head-to-toe in the latest Chanel, her makeup perfect, her skin radiant. Her rounded belly was unmistakable beneath her tailored clothes.
She carried an expensive-looking box, and her face was a mask of carefully rehearsed sympathy, just the right blend of concern and guilt.
"Helen," she said softly as she walked to my bedside. "Feeling any better? I've honestly been worried about you."
I didn't even glance at her, let alone say anything.
She set the box on the nightstand and settled into the chair beside my bed, letting out a measured sigh.
She said, "I really am sorry about what happened. Victor and I never meant for things to get so out of hand. You have to understand, with my pregnancy being such a miracle, he's just been incredibly protective and on edge."
She paused to study my face, searching for any reaction. When I kept my poker face, she continued, her tone sliding into patronizing concern.
She said, "Helen, we've known each other for years. It hurts me to see you like this. But the truth is, Victor's just lost all hope. The scene at the hospital was the last straw for him.
"Going through his private files, and saying those awful things... He doesn't want to see you anymore."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "Just sign the papers. Honestly, it's the best thing for you. He promised that if you cooperate, he'll be generous.
"The downtown apartment and 2 million in cash. You'll be comfortable for the rest of your life. Why make this any more difficult? Holding on is only going to hurt you in the end.
She pulled a document from her pricey Hermès bag and set it gently on my lap.
"Just sign it, Helen. Let Victor go. Set yourself free, too." Her tone was still sweet, but every word was laced with venom. "If you keep dragging this out, you're only going to get hurt. You're already hurt. What good does it do to keep fighting?"
I slowly lowered my head, staring at the divorce papers lying on my lap.
The terms were crystal clear. The property split was just one downtown apartment and 2 million in cash. For a man who ruled the Sinclair Medical Group empire, that was pocket change, an insult even a beggar would feel.
I let out a barely-there, mocking laugh.
Emily frowned slightly. "Helen?"
I finally lifted my gaze to meet hers. My stare was cold and hollow, and it made her flinch back.
"Emily," I said, my voice hoarse. "You know, three years ago, when Victor married me, he gave me this clumsy, handmade clay mug. Ugly as sin."
Emily froze for a moment, clearly not understanding why I'd suddenly brought this up.
I forced a bitter smile. "He told me it was the first thing he'd ever made. Hideous, but he said it was special.
"I was so touched that I thought it was the most precious gift in the world. I put it in the most prominent position in the study and wiped it every day."
A flicker of recognition crossed Emily's eyes.
"Then one day, I stopped by your place," I continued, locking eyes with her and dragging out the words. "And in your kitchen cabinet, I saw an identical mug, just as ugly as mine."
Emily's face instantly drained of color, and her fingers started nervously twisting the strap of her bag.
"I was so naive back then. I actually asked you, 'Hey Emily, doesn't your mug look just like the one Victor gave me? Where did you get it?'"
I paused, and then mimicked her saccharine tone perfectly. "'Oh, this old thing? I just picked it up from some street stall. It's so ugly. No way it could compare to your treasured mug.'"
The room went dead silent.