After Rejection Divorced Luna Becomes A Famous Doctor (Hailey and Dominic) novel Chapter 162

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CHAPTER HUNDRED-THIRTYFOUR

TRICIA

I parked the car and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I had to act normal. I had

to pretend like nothing was wrong.

I walked into the house, the briefcase clutched tightly in my hand. My mother was in the living room, a glass of blood wine in her hand. She looked up as I entered, her eyes narrowing.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice cold.

“Out,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I needed some air.”

“Don’t lie to me, Tricia,” she said, taking a sip of her blood wine. “I know you were in my room. I know you took my things.”

My blood ran cold. How did she know? I was so careful. I didn’t leave any evidence.

“What are you talking about?” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

“My safe,” she said, her eyes locked on mine.

I clenched my jaw tightly, clutching the briefcase with a white knuckled grip. The money inside felt both like a victory and a death sentence. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t possibly know. I had been so careful, leaving no trace, wiping away any potential fingerprints. But then again, this was my mother. She had eyes everywhere, a sixth sense for betrayal honed by years of practice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeated, but the words lacked conviction. They sounded thin and brittle even to my own ears. I tried to hold her gaze, to project an air of innocence, but her stare was like a physical force, stripping away my defenses.

She set her wine glass down on the antique coffee table, the soft click echoing in the tense silence. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Tricia. You get that from your father. All passion and desperation, no subtlety.” She rose slowly from the velvet couch, her movements fluid and predatory. “My wedding ring. The blood diamond. Where is it?”

A cold sweat broke out on my brow. That ring. Of all the things I took, it had to be that one. It wasn’t just valuable; it was a symbol, a relic of a past she preferred to keep buried. Or perhaps, a past she treasured more than she let on. I hadn’t counted on that. I had assumed it was just another piece of her collection, something to be hoarded and forgotten.

“I don’t have it,” I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

She was in front of me in a flash, her vampire speed a blur of motion. Her hand shot out, gripping

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my chin, her nails digging into my skin. “Don’t you dare lie to me,” she snarled, her face inches from mine, her breath cold and smelled of expensive wine blood and malice. “You stole from me. Your

own mother. You are just as worthless as he was. A common thief.”

A surge of fury rose in me, hot and sharp. I ripped my face from her grasp. “If he was such a common thief, you wouldn’t have whored your way into his life for money. You wouldn’t have used me to trap him. Don’t you dare stand there and act like you were the victim in all of this. You got everything you wanted. A life of luxury, a life free from any real responsibility. And what did I get? A childhood of neglect. A lifetime of feeling unloved and unwanted. So forgive me if I don’t feel guilty for taking back a small piece of what you stole from me.”

A painful resounding slap echoed through the room, the impact so hard that my head whipped to the side. A metallic taste filled my mouth. I slowly turned my head back to her, my vision swimming with anger and tears I refused to shed. Her eyes were blazing, her composure finally

cracking. I had hit a nerve.

“You think you’re so clever,” she hissed, her chest heaving. “Running your mouth like you know anything about my life. You know nothing. You are a mistake. A parasite I’ve been forced to

endure.”

“Then get rid of me,” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “Go ahead. Do what you’ve always wanted to do. Or is it more fun to keep me around just to torture me?”

“Guards!” She screamed, her voice echoing through the large house.

Two hulking figures appeared at the entrance to the living room, their faces impassive, their eyes trained on my mother. They were the security she kept on the payroll, vampires loyal only to her for the blood money and power she provided.

“Take her,” she commanded, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Take her to the cellar. And don’t let her out until I say so. Until she’s ready to beg for my forgiveness.”

Before they could grab me, I acted on pure instinct. I kicked the coffee table, sending it skidding across the marble floor and into their path. It gave me a precious second. I turned and ran, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone as I bolted for the front door.

I didn’t make it.

One of them was on me in a flash, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me back. I screamed, a raw, desperate sound, as they dragged me toward the basement door, their grips like iron. The briefcase of money slipped from my hand, spilling its contents across the floor. Hundred dollar bills scattered like fallen leaves, a mocking testament to my failed escape.

They threw me into the cellar, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind me, the lock clicking

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into place with an ominous finality. I was plunged into near total darkness, the only light a faint sliver from under the door. The air was damp and heavy with the smell of mildew and earth, a scent that brought back a tidal wave of memories I had fought to bury. Lockups, starvation, the raw scrape of hunger in my throat. This was where she used to leave me. Where she had tried to

break me.

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