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Last time around, my husband’s secret kid got hit with acute leukemia.
Bone marrow transplant time, and he sneaks her off for the op. Her heart craps out mid–surgery.
Dead on the table at four years old. I get to the hospital, and it’s my little girl’s ice–cold body I’m looking at. My husband just rolls his eyes at my tears.
“She wasn’t going to last anyway. If her marrow helps someone, good for her. Karma, right? Maybe she’ll get a better life next.”
I wanted to rip his face off. He shoves me away, kicks me.
“It’s your fault, you useless mom! Can’t even give her a healthy body. You’re both cursed!”
I’d had enough. I grabbed him, and we went out the window, sixteen stories down. I wake up, back on my engagement day. I call my dad, right then and there.
“Dad, I’m not marrying Scott. Switch the business deal to his brother, please.”
Let’s see how Scott and that tramp handle things without me.