A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 142

“Starla, can we just try to make this work?” he murmured, his voice gentle in the quiet of the mountainside. “It was all my fault before, okay?”

This was his old tactic. Whenever she was truly furious, he would soften his voice and coax her back, and it had always worked.

But not this time.

“Not a chance,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

He sighed. Had he really wronged her that much?

“Well, you have to,” he insisted. “I’ve already made arrangements regarding Brinley. It’s handled.” The implication was clear: he wouldn’t be running to Brinley’s side again.

But no sooner had the words left his mouth than his phone rang. It was Brinley.

His expression soured, and he immediately declined the call.

“Are you sure you don’t want to answer?” Starla taunted, pulling away from him. “With all her antics, her stitches probably haven’t healed. Another scene and she might just bleed out for real this time.”

Brinley certainly knew how to cause trouble. But she probably never imagined that while she was busy trying to steal Fairfax, Starla was just as busy destroying her reputation. In the end, Brinley had failed to win the man, while Starla had succeeded spectacularly in ruining her. Now, both her name and her mother’s were mud.

As if on cue, the phone rang again. This time it was Xenia.

Annoyance flickered across Fairfax’s face.

“Go on, answer it,” Starla urged. “Brinley nearly died yesterday. If you ignore them now, she might not make it this time. Remember,” she added, perfectly mimicking the tone of the Yelchin elders, “your older brother is gone. You have to take care of her and her children.”

“I-I don’t know,” Brinley stammered between sobs. “She was brought in by an ambulance.”

“I’m on my way,” Fairfax said, then hung up.

He looked at Starla. She just clicked her tongue. “So they’ve changed their strategy,” she remarked with a chilling smile. “They know you won’t come for Brinley, so now they’re using your mother.”

The sarcasm in her voice made his head throb. His first instinct was to rush to the hospital, but he couldn’t leave her. He knew if he left, she would disappear again, and he couldn’t risk losing her. She was too clever, too unpredictable.

“You’re coming with me,” he declared.

They had just gotten out of the car, and now he was pushing her back inside. Starla resisted, but his grip was iron, his decision absolute.