Chapter 4He Wore My Robe For Her

I let my knees hit the hard wood of the hallway floor. Thud.

The sound of my pride breaking was deafening in my own ears. Humiliation washed over me like freezing water.

Satisfied, Lydia chirped a little laugh and tossed her car keys. They struck me in the face, the metal leaving a sharp sting on my cheek before clattering to the floor.

As I reached for them, she playfully kicked them further down the hall.

“Oops. My hand slipped. You’ll have to fetch them, sweetie.”

Then, she wrapped her arms around Parker’s neck and planted a lingering, possessive kiss on his cheek. “Parker’s staying here. Good luck at the hospital.”

She slammed the door.

I didn't waste a second. I grabbed the keys, ignored the sob trapped in my throat, and ran for the stairs.

But when I got into the Mercedes and pressed the ignition, the dashboard glowed red. The tank was bone-dry. Empty.

The car wouldn't even make it out of the parking garage, let alone thirty miles to the city hospital.

“You bitch!”

I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, the sound of my own breakdown muffled by the luxury interior. She had planned this. Every second of it.

I pulled out my phone to scream at Parker, but my finger slipped and opened my Instagram feed instead.

Parker had just posted.

It was a video of me. Me, on my knees in the hallway. Me, looking broken and pathetic.

The caption: When the 'Ice Queen' finally learns her place. Some guys just have that touch.

He’d filmed it. While I was debasing myself to save my mother’s life, he was thinking about how many likes he could get from his "bros."

I scrolled through the comments, my face burning as if I’d been slapped a thousand times.

“Holy shit, Parker! You actually got her to bow? Absolute legend.”

“I always knew Diana was a closet sub. Nice work, man.”

“Lydia for the win! Taking back what’s hers.”

My stomach turned. But I couldn't afford revenge yet. Not yet.

I wiped my eyes, gritted my teeth until I tasted blood, and forced myself to think. I opened the neighborhood's private community group on Facebook.

HELP. Emergency. Mother having a heart attack. Need a ride to Mercy General immediately. Will pay anything.

Most of the residents were asleep or out, but a few seconds later, a reply popped up.

“I’m in 12C. I’ve got a car in the driveway. Come up.”

Fifteen minutes later, I burst through the hospital doors. The fluorescent lights were blinding, the hallway smelling of antiseptic and death.

My father was sitting on a plastic chair, looking as though he had aged ten years in a single night. When he saw me, his eyes filled with tears.

“Diana... you’re here... your mother...”

Before he could finish, a doctor in blue scrubs emerged from the double doors.

“Doctor? How is she? Can I see her?”

The doctor took a long, heavy breath and slowly shook his head.

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.”