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After His Mistress Tried to Kill Me Novel Cover

After His Mistress Tried to Kill Me

I sat alone at a small, candlelit table in a West Village restaurant. It was my twenty-eighth birthday. Rain lashed against the large glass windows, blurring the city lights into streaks of yellow and red. The waiter had lit a single candle on my table twenty minutes ago. It was already melting down into a sad puddle of wax. I looked at my phone. The screen lit up with a new message. It was from Colby. *Can't make it, Evie. Thalia called crying.
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Chapter 5

My phone vibrated against the plastic bedside table. The rain was still hitting the window. The room smelled like stale bleach. The screen flashed with Jasmine’s name. I picked it up.

"We have it," Jasmine said immediately. Her voice was tight and fast.

I sat up a little. "All of it?"

"Every single piece," she replied. "Sean’s contacts worked fast. We have the medical files. Her kidney function is perfectly stable. There is no transplant list. We have the sworn testimony from the London clinic about her affair with the coworker. And Nurse Osei filed the official incident report about the wheelchair stunt."

I let out a slow breath. "Okay."

Jasmine paused. The line was quiet for a second. "Evie, there's one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Sean pulled a favor with a judge. He got the city traffic camera footage from the intersection." Jasmine’s voice dropped. It sounded cold and heavy. "The light was red, Evie. You were already in the crosswalk. She didn’t hit the brakes."

My hand gripped the phone. My knuckles turned white.

"She accelerated," Jasmine whispered. "She hit the gas. It wasn’t an accident. She tried to kill you."

A freezing chill washed over my chest. The steady beep of the heart monitor seemed to slow down. I looked down at the dark purple bruises covering my arms. I remembered the blinding glare of the headlights. I remembered the roar of the engine speeding up. She wanted me dead. She wanted me erased so she could slide right back into my life. And Colby was holding her hand while she did it.

The last tiny piece of my broken heart turned into a rock. The girl who loved Colby Matthews died on that wet asphalt.

"Evie?" Jasmine asked. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," I said. My voice was completely steady. "Come to the hospital. Set up the meeting."

An hour later, I pressed the call button. A young nurse came in. I told her I was discharging myself. She frowned and argued.

"Your doctor hasn't cleared you," she warned.

I didn't listen. I made her take the IV out of my hand. A small drop of blood welled up on my skin. I pressed a cotton ball to it and threw off the thin hospital blanket.

I put on my own clothes. A black cashmere sweater and dark jeans. Pulling the fabric over my bruised ribs sent sharp spikes of pain through my side. I didn't care. I wanted to feel the pain. It was real. It kept me awake. It kept me focused. The hospital gown felt like a victim's uniform. My clothes felt like armor.

Jasmine arrived ten minutes later. She stood by the window. The gray city light hit her face, making her look pale but fierce. She held a black tablet tightly against her chest. She watched me with dark, protective eyes. We didn't need to speak. We were ready.

The door handle clicked.

Colby walked in. He wore a tailored gray suit. His tie was perfectly straight. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at me. He saw my clothes. He saw the empty IV stand. A relieved, easy smile spread across his face.

He thought I was giving in. He thought I was getting dressed to go home with him. He thought I was finally ready to sign my body over to his first love.

"Evie," he said softly. His voice was warm and smooth. It was the voice he used to close big deals. "You look so much better. I'm glad you've had time to think. Are we ready to be reasonable now?"

He took a step toward me. He reached out his hand, expecting me to take it.

"Colby," I said. I didn't move. I kept my hands at my sides.

A tiny crease appeared between his brows. His hand dropped a few inches. Before he could speak again, soft footsteps shuffled in the hallway. A shadow fell across the open doorway. The faint, sweet smell of vanilla perfume drifted into the room.

Thalia stood there. She wore a pale pink cardigan over her hospital gown. She gripped the doorframe with one hand. She breathed heavily, playing the part of the fragile, dying girl perfectly. She must have tracked his phone. She couldn't stand the idea of him being alone with me. She had to control the narrative.

"Colby?" she whispered. Her voice trembled just the right amount. She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just... I woke up and you were gone. I felt so frightened."

Colby immediately turned his back to me. He rushed to the door. He wrapped his arm around Thalia's shoulders to support her weight.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Thalia," he scolded gently. "You're too weak."

"I just wanted to make sure Evie wasn't upset with you," she murmured. She buried her face in his suit jacket. She peeked at me from behind his lapel. Her eyes were sharp and victorious. She was marking her territory.

I watched them hold each other. I didn't cry. My chest didn't ache. I just felt a deep, profound disgust. It was like watching two strangers in a bad play.

I sat down on the edge of the mattress. I crossed my arms and looked straight at Thalia.

"Close the door," I said calmly.

Colby frowned. "Evie, she needs to rest. This isn't the time—"

"I said, close the door," I repeated. My voice cut through the room like a cold knife. "We're going to talk."

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