Her fifth daughter died, so she deleted his bloodline. novel Chapter 40

Chapter 8

Every day, Jon showed up outside my hospital room.

Crutches. Bandages. Pitiful eyes.

Every day, the guards threw him out in under a minute.

I didn’t feel bad.

My hands and feet were permanently damaged. No more piano. No more ballet.

Alex was furious. “He still won’t sign the papers. After what he did to you, he has the nerve to keep showing up?”

I ate my food. Real food. Home food. I’d missed it.

“There are other ways to divorce.”

Late one night, Jon slipped past the guards.

“Evie. Evie.”

I woke up with a start.

He was next to me, holding my hand.

“Evie. Forgive me. Please.”

His eyes were sincere. His words poured out.

“I was trying to teach you a lesson. I thought you’d come home. I sent people to look, I

swear.”

“I sent Tiffany away. No more women. Just you. I’ll be good.”

I stared at him. No expression.

“Why did I need a lesson, Jon?”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Chapter 8

15.33%

The mall’s big screen was playing headlines about Jon and Tiffany. He’d dropped a fortune on fireworks, the whole city lit up, just for her. Midnight, they’d set them all off.

Someone handed me a cold sandwich. I choked it down, mumbling thanks between bites. Security still kicked me out. Didn’t matter that I was in a corner, out of the way.

Night fell. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Three. Two. One.

Fireworks exploded across the sky.

And right as my vision started to fade, a black Escalade pulled up in front of me.

Chapter 5

14.18%

Chapter 9

The next day, his grandmother came.

First time I’d ever seen her. Hartwell rules: you had to have Christmas dinner with the family before meeting the grandmother.

Five

years. Countless women had met her.

The actual wife? Never.

She sat down, all kind face. Pulled out an emerald pendant, her welcome gift.

“Evie. There you are. You’re even prettier in person.”

She held out an emerald pendant. “This was mine. Consider it an apology. From the whole family.”

I smiled, fake, polite. “I can’t accept this, Mrs Hartwell.”

She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Look. I talk to Jon every single year. He’s stubborn as

hell. Your brother gave him a wake-up call. I gave him another one. I think he finally

gets it.”

A beat. “Just… think about it. Give him one more chance. Every marriage has its rough patches. And you two? You actually love each other. Don’t throw that away over something fixable.”

She paused. “And if he messes up again? I’ll deal with him myself.”

I stopped pretending.

“You talked to him every year. So why didn’t he ever bring me home?”

“Whether I’m family or not, that was your call too, wasn’t it?”

She blinked. Lost some composure, “I talked. He didn’t listen.”

I smiled. Cold. “If he doesn’t listen to you, how can you promise to handle him later?”

Her face cycled through about fifty different shades. She had nothing.