She sneered. “I’m not worse than you, so why did you get lucky? I was so jealous that I joined your family as a doctor. I didn’t expect your relationship with Zayn to be so weak. A few words from me and you two fell apart.”
I stayed silent.
From the very beginning, my marriage with Zayn had been an accident—something I forced myself to believe in.
Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie noticed the urn. She stepped forward and kicked it over.
I rushed to protect the ashes, gathering the dirt and pieces in my hands. I didn’t notice that Natalie suddenly clutched her chest and dropped to the floor.
When Zayn arrived, she immediately started moaning in pain.
“Natalie, what’s wrong?” he asked, panicked, rushing to hold her.
Natalie leaned weakly against him, voice trembling just enough to sound pitiful. “I just came to tell her to rest for a few days… not to rush the medicine tests. But I found out she was stabbing my little doll—it was right behind the door.”
Zayn’s eyes snapped toward me, cold and sharp.
“I didn’t! It’s not me…” I tried to explain.