“A child,” she said sweetly. “A real heir. One he wants. Not like your broken body. I mean... after all those miscarriages, those chemical pregnancies—what’s even left in there?” She laughed, cruel and loud. “Your uterus is basically a haunted house, isn’t it?”
I lurched forward, but the bars stopped me.
She smirked. “Touched a nerve? I’m sorry. I forgot you’re a little sensitive about being barren. But see, I’m everything you couldn’t be. He doesn't even flinch when he touches me.” Her fingers brushed her collarbone. “He groans. You? You were just a placeholder. The tech girl he had to tolerate until he found someone who could give him more than brainy tantrums and spreadsheets.”
She crouched, voice dripping with venom.
“You know what the real joke is?” she whispered. “I used to envy you. I hated how everyone compared us, even when my family had more money. More everything. But still—‘Why can’t you be more like Danica?’ ‘Why can’t you be smarter, Dulcie?’” Her lip curled. “All I ever heard. And now? Look at you. Alone. Filthy. Forgotten.”
She stood, brushing invisible dust from my robe.