His face changed for a heartbeat; then he answered coolly, as if everything had been planned: "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Hillary is just a sister I need to take care of."
I bit back a laugh. "A sister you take care of in bed?"
"Meredith!" His voice shot up. "When I was at my lowest, it was Hillary who stayed with me. She's only doing what you couldn't do—what you should've done. Why speak about her like that?"
Before I could answer, he slammed the door and left.
My legs went weak. Only a week ago he'd been the attentive husband I'd loved. Now, after I moved to sue Hillary, his disguise had come off.
"Meredith, my condolences~" Hillary's syrupy voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She leaned lazily against the doorway like a woman enjoying an excellent performance.
"Tristan has been running around for you. If you say things that hurt him, aren't you afraid he'll give up on you?" she purred.
"I'm not like you—my life isn't just revolving around some man," I snapped.
She chuckled softly. "Pitiful, isn't it? I killed your mother, yet Tristan still shields me without hesitation. Does that make you seethe, Sister?"