Chapter 14
Sydney did not spare a thought for how that so–called happy family was spending their
Christmas Eve.
After dinner, she squatted in the courtyard, carefully sculpting a Santa Claus out of snow. Her fingers turned red from the cold before she finally went inside for a hot bath.
Perhaps because Nancy had turned up the heat due to the snow, the room felt uncomfortably warm. Sydney lacked the energy to dry her hair. She leaned against the headboard, opened a book, and before long, curled up and fell asleep.
Sydney was jolted awake the next morning by a loud crash. It was unclear whether it came from downstairs or just outside her door, but the sound was sharp and unmistakable.
Timothy was likely tearing through the house again.
She pushed aside her sleepiness, freshened up, and headed downstairs for breakfast. She
had barely stepped onto the stairs when Timothy suddenly appeared, his hands on his hips and eyes blazing. “You wicked woman! Go die!”
Sydney frowned, about to speak, but the boy charged at her. She dodged quickly, but something yanked hard at her lower back. She lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs.
Her entire body took the brunt of the fall. Her temple slammed into the stone steps, and
blood streamed down her face.
Lying in a twisted heap, Sydney gritted her teeth and slowly lifted her head, only to see
Penelope standing at the top of the stairs with a calm, almost amused smile.
“I’m not moving out,” Penelope said softly. “So stop dreaming.”
It was Penelope who had pulled her.
Nancy rushed in at the sound, petrified by the sight.
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Chapter 14
Sydney, barely conscious, forced out, “Call an ambulance.”
“Yes, okay!” Nancy fumbled for the phone, dialing 911 in a panic.
By the time she reported the address, Sydney had already passed out.
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Pain was the only thing Sydney felt when she came to. It was so deep it felt like her whole body had shattered.
A cold liquid dripped into her veins through an IV. The room was empty except for the sounds of an argument on the balcony outside.
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She pushed open the balcony door. Both turned at the noise, startled. Leaning against the frame to steady herself, Sydney locked eyes with Caleb.
“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “I won’t call the police.”
Caleb’s heart clenched at the sight of her wincing in pain, but what he said was, “What do you want? I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”
He was her husband, yet all he offered was compensation—no protection, no defense, just
money.
Sydney’s eyes were clear as glass. Her voice trembled with weakness. “Anything I want?”
“Of course.”
“Then I want an eye for an eye.”
Before Caleb could react, she hurled the IV pole straight at Penelope.
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