Chapter 2

Jillian Chapman POV:

Ida' s small hand felt impossibly delicate in mine, almost translucent. Her skin was cool, even in the stuffy hospital waiting room. The congenital heart condition she' d inherited from Grayson, the one we' d kept secret, was a constant, terrifying presence. It was a ticking clock.

"Mommy, can we get ice cream after?" she whispered, her voice reedy.

I squeezed her hand. "If you' re brave for the doctors, sweetie."

Just then, a familiar, deep voice cut through the sterile quiet. "Adam, stop running!"

My head snapped up. Grayson. And Kiera. They emerged from a consultation room down the hall, Adam skipping ahead of them, a bright red toy car clutched in his hand. My past, my present, and all my pain, neatly packaged in one horrifying tableau.

Grayson' s eyes met mine across the expanse of polished linoleum. He faltered, his step faltering. He looked... uncomfortable. Guilty, perhaps? A fleeting thought, quickly dismissed. Grayson Malone felt no true guilt. Only inconvenience.

"Jillian," he said, his voice low, as he approached. Kiera, ever the attentive partner, slid her arm through his, her manicured nails digging subtly into his bicep. "What are you doing here?"

I simply held Ida' s hand tighter, her tiny fingers almost disappearing in my grasp. I didn' t answer. I just began to walk past them, my gaze fixed straight ahead, as if they were invisible.

Kiera, however, wouldn' t be ignored. She tightened her grip on Grayson, pulling him closer, then plastered a wide, insincere smile on her face. "Well, well, if it isn' t Jillian Chapman!" Her voice was cloyingly sweet, a poison wrapped in sugar. "Fancy meeting you here, of all places."

I kept walking, pulling Ida along.

"Still running away, I see," Kiera purred, her voice carrying. "Just like you ran from your responsibilities. And just like your poor father ran from the truth."

My steps faltered. The words were a physical blow. The old wound, festering for six years, ripped open. My father, Dr. Hartley Miles, a man whose integrity was his very breath. They had dragged his name through the mud, smeared him with lies of academic fraud and sexual harassment. All to destroy him, and me.

Kiera giggled, a brittle, unpleasant sound. "Oh, forgive me. I forgot you don' t like to talk about dear old Dad. Or your rather... unconventional relationship with Grayson, your former student. Such a scandal, wasn' t it? Nearly ruined Columbia' s reputation, that whole sordid affair." She feigned a sympathetic sigh. "Though, in hindsight, I suppose it was for the best. Your father exposed for the monster he was, and you... well, you found your true calling, didn' t you? Manipulating men from humble beginnings."

My blood ran cold. The buzzing in my ears grew louder. I remembered Kiera's smug face at the wedding, the projector screen flashing the fabricated evidence, the whispers, the jeers. I remembered the way Grayson had stood there, impassive, while my world imploded.

I remembered trying to explain, trying to make him see the truth. But he had just stared at me, his eyes full of a chilling conviction. "You' re sick, Jillian. Twisted. Just like your father."

A small, fierce voice broke through my haze of pain. "My grandpa wasn' t a monster!" Ida cried, her tiny fists balled. Her face was flushed, her chest heaving. "He was kind! You' re the monster!"

Kiera' s sugary smile vanished. Her eyes flashed with pure venom. "Watch your tone, you little brat!" She lunged forward, her hand shooting out. I moved, but not fast enough. She shoved Ida.

My daughter tumbled backward, hitting Adam, who was running past us at that exact moment. Adam, caught off guard, stumbled, then regained his footing. He didn' t like being touched, especially not by Ida. He reacted instinctively, fueled by Kiera' s hatred. He pushed Ida with both hands. Harder.

Ida cried out, a guttural sound of pure agony, as her small head hit the corner of a metal chair. Her eyes rolled back. A thin trickle of crimson bloomed on her temple, stark against her pale skin. Her breath hitched, then stopped.

Panic. Raw, primal, suffocating panic clawed its way up my throat. "Ida!" My voice was a strangled shriek. I dropped to my knees, cradling her limp body. The blood was spreading. Her lips were turning blue. She wasn' t breathing.

My vision tunneled. I saw Kiera' s triumphant smirk, Adam' s wide, terrified eyes. I saw Grayson, frozen, his face a mask of horror. All the years of abuse, the lies, the pain, the betrayal, culminated in this single, devastating moment.

Something snapped inside me. My hand shot out, fueled by a rage so profound it felt like a separate entity. My palm connected with Kiera' s cheek with a sickening crack. The force of it sent her stumbling backward, her designer handbag flying.

"You... you evil bitch!" I screamed, my voice raw, unrecognizable. "You did this! You always do this! You took everything! My family! My life! And now my daughter? You' re a monster, Kiera! A parasitic, hateful monster!"

Kiera clutched her stinging cheek, her eyes wide with shock and fury. "Grayson! Did you see that? She' s insane! Just like they said!"

A crowd had gathered, a sea of whispering faces, all staring at me. Their judgment, their thinly veiled distaste, felt like stones pelting my already broken spirit. Crazy. Unhinged. Dangerous. They had called me worse. They had locked me away for it.

Adam, still standing over Ida' s prone form, started to tremble. His eyes, fixed on his little sister, welled with tears. "She... she' s broken," he whispered, his small voice cracking.

Grayson finally moved. He scooped Ida into his arms, his face white as a sheet, the dark stain of blood on her temple a stark contrast to his pristine shirt. "Ida! Baby, wake up!" he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion. He turned to his assistant, who had materialized seemingly out of nowhere. "Get a doctor! Now! Emergency! And get Kiera out of my sight!" His voice boomed, raw with a desperate fear I hadn't heard from him in years.

Doctors swarmed, their words a frantic blur. "Head trauma... cardiac arrest... we need to stabilize her heartbeat... prep for surgery."

Grayson, holding Ida tightly, followed them into the emergency room. "Transplant list! She needs a heart! I' ll pay anything! Do whatever it takes!"

I watched him go, a strange mix of satisfaction and terror churning in my gut. He clutched his daughter, thinking she was a stranger.

Ida, barely conscious, her eyes fluttering open, reached a weak hand towards Grayson. "Daddy..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Grayson froze, his eyes widening. He looked at Ida, then at me, a dawning horror spreading across his face. His carefully constructed world, his meticulously crafted lies, were starting to unravel. He looked like a man who' d just stared into the abyss and seen his own reflection.

"Daddy?" he repeated, his voice choked. He looked down at Ida, then buried his face in her hair. His shoulders shook. He was crying. For Ida. For our daughter.

"Get me a match! Find a donor! I don' t care what it costs!" he yelled, his voice thick with tears. He hugged Ida tightly as the doctors wheeled her away, towards the operating room. "Find a match!"

Kiera, her face red and swollen from the slap, had been hustled away by Grayson' s assistant. She was crying, her sobs echoing down the hall. But her tears were for herself, for her bruised ego, not for Ida.

The door to the operating room swung shut, leaving me alone in the silent, sterile corridor. My legs gave out. I sank to the floor, my hands trembling. The rage was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.

He' s finally feeling it. The pain. The fear. The desperation. The helplessness. This was just the first payment. There would be more.

My phone, clutched in my hand, vibrated. It was a text from an unfamiliar number. Your appointment has been confirmed. Dr. Miles Foundation. Assistant position.

A ghost of a smile touched my lips. My revenge was just beginning. It was not just for Ida, but for my father. For everything they took.