His touch made her flinch, shivering with discomfort.
She struggled, desperately, but his grip was unyielding. An icy numbness crept through her chest, as if the cold had seeped into her very soul.
He whispered in her ear, cajoling, “Blanche, everything I do is for you.”
He pushed her dress aside, eyes hungrily taking in her pale skin. With manic delight, he exclaimed, “Blanche, he never touched you.”
She was delicate–her skin flushed at the slightest touch.
Eddy released her wrists, only to clutch her tighter, as if to press her into his very bones. “Blanche, I know your marriage was a sham. I know you never cared about him. Deep down, you still have feelings for me.”
His hands slid beneath her skirt.
Blanche seized the vase from the console by the door and smashed it over Eddy’s head.
He staggered back, stars bursting in his vision as blood trickled down his brow.
Released, Blanche collapsed to the floor, shards of ceramic falling from her trembling hands.
“I started dating you at sixteen. By eighteen, I gave you everything. We’ve been together ten years, Eddy, and you cheated on me for five of them! And you did it with the woman whose mother destroyed my family. You kept her under my nose, sleeping with her in every corner of our home, and now you expect my son to call your mistress ‘Mom‘?”
“Mom?” Blanche let out a bitter laugh. “Where do you get the nerve to ask for my forgiveness?”
“Blanche-” Eddy panicked, reaching out, desperate to explain.
But Blanche recoiled from him as if he were a wild animal.
Her back pressed to the door, one hand clutching a jagged shard, her entire body shaking, fury burning in her eyes. “Don’t you dare call me your wife again!”
“You have no right!
“You even stole my mother’s inheritance!”
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“My mother treated you like her own son. She entrusted you with everythin your hand as she died and asked you to take care of me. Was this your idea of taking care of me?”
Blanche’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she would never cry for him again.
She forced the tears back, her voice trembling with hatred. “You even took my child from me!”
“Eddy, you ordered them to take my baby!”
“Not just once!”
She stared at him, eyes bloodshot and blazing with hate.
Eddy slumped to the floor beside her, a look of horror and confusion twisting his face. “Blanche, I didn’t-”
“I begged you in the operating room to save our daughter. I heard you tell Dr. Smith to get rid of her!” Blanche’s eyes were hollow with pain, her gaze filled with nothing but disgust and regret. “I wish I’d never loved you. I regret every moment with you.”
“You let your cruelty reach my child!”
“Get out! I never want to see you again!” Blood dripped from her hand, where the porcelain cut into her skin.
He was frantic. “Blanche, don’t hurt yourself. I’ll keep my distance, okay?”
“Don’t scare me.”
“Let me go!” Blanche struggled to her feet.
Eddy backed away, afraid she’d harm herself. “Okay, okay. I’ll let you go.”
He stepped aside.
Blanche scrambled to gather herself, but as she reached to open the door, a sharp pain shot through the back of her neck.
The world went dark. She collapsed into Eddy’s arms.
When she woke, everything was white.
She was in the hospital, her wounded hand already bandaged.
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Eddy sat at her side, a medical report clutched in his fist, veins bulging along his tense, pale hand–his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and anguish.
He grabbed her shoulders, voice shaking with disbelief:
“You had a child two years ago?”
“Whose child is it?”
