Her fifth daughter died, so she deleted his bloodline. novel Chapter 33

Chapter 1

The whole town of Ashland had a bet going right before Christmas.

Everyone was placing wagers on whether I’d finally get picked in the draw whether Jonathan Hartwell would finally take me home for the holidays.

See, the Hartwells had this rule: a new wife wasn’t really family until she’d sat through Christmas dinner with all of them.

Five years of marriage, and I’d never been picked once. I was the punchline of the entire

city.

This year’s winner was some club dancer. She was straddling Jon’s lap when she tossed

the red lotto stick at my feet like a challenge.

The whole room held their breath, waiting for me to lose it, same as the last four years, same as always. Waiting for me to go for her throat.

But I didn’t scream. Didn’t fight.

Just said, quiet and calm, “Congratulations.”

Jon leaned in, breath hot against my ear, that smug smile in his voice. “See, Evelyn? You’re finally learning. You’re almost ready to be a real wife.”

I dropped my gaze, snapped the lotto stick in half without changing my expression.

He didn’t know. About the deal I’d made with my brother five years ago.

The deal that was up now.

My brother was coming to take me home.

***

The crowd ate it up when Jon slid that stunning emerald bracelet onto the dancer’s wrist, Tiffany Brooks, that was her name.

Same bracelet he’d won for me at auction not long ago. “For your birthday, Evie,” he’d said, all smiles and promises.

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And now some random girl was wearing it.

Something sharp dug into my chest.

Jon must’ve noticed my face. He pulled out a necklace, all casual about it. “Not your luck, babe. That’s what the winner gets.”

“But hey, you played nice tonight. That deserves a reward.”

The necklace was emerald too, a cheap one, though. The edges weren’t even polished right. It bit into my skin when he put it on me, and I blinked back tears from the sting.

Tiffany came over with a wine glass, all tiny steps toward Jon.

Then her heel caught, and the whole glass of red went right in

my

face.

Dead silence.

Every woman who’d ever won the draw had pulled some stunt like this. And every time, I’d lost it. Screaming, fighting, once even ended up in the ER.

Tiffany dropped to her knees at Jon’s feet, dress slipping, eyes all wet and pitiful. “Mrs. Hartwell, I swear, it was an accident! Throw a drink in my face if you want, a hundred drinks, I don’t care, just please don’t be mad at me!”

Jon’s throat moved. He shifted, half-covering her without thinking, like he was bracing

for me to attack.

I just stood there for a second. Then I took a napkin and calmly wiped my face.

“Get up. I’m not mad.”

“Those heels are ridiculous. No wonder you tripped. I’ll have my assistant grab you

some flats.”

Jon froze. One eyebrow went up.

The shoes came. I bent down and put them on Tiffany’s feet myself.

Then I noticed her bare neck. Took off the necklace he’d just given me and fastened it

around hers.

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“Here, this’ll look way better on you. Wear it to Christmas dinner with Jon’s grandma, gives you a little something extra.”

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