Footsteps rushed over, and Tristan appeared. Hillary immediately flung herself into his arms, her face suddenly went pale. "Tristan, hurry—take Meredith to the hospital! She came back, and when saw me, she flew into a rage and smashed things; she must have fallen..."
Only then did Tristan look at me properly. But there was no trace of concern in his eyes—only a coldness edged with disgust.
"Meredith! Hillary is already carrying my child. She'll be staying here from now on. No matter how you scream or put on a show, my mind won't change!"
"In your eyes, am I that kind of person?" My voice trembled.
"Hillary is gentle and kind—she would never do something like this. Who else could it be but you?" He said it with absolute conviction, then softened his gaze on Hillary. "This room's no good. Let's go somewhere else."
His attitude started changing a year ago. Whatever I'd been through, he no longer asked—he judged me without hesitation. The cracks had been there a long time; I'd just been blind to them until now.