Chapter 3

I whipped around to look at him.

So he hadn't forgotten. Not for a second.

From the very start, he'd come here to get revenge for Hildegarde.

I stared at that cold face of his and let out a bitter little laugh at myself.

"Fine. Twenty-five minutes, right? I'll go in with her."

Charles looked away.

"Suit yourself. Just don't come out crying about the cold and playing the victim with me."

The door of the cold-storage unit slid open a crack behind me, and I helped my mother step out into the corridor.

Around the corner, Hildegarde's voice suddenly reached me.

Kept low, but pitched just right to slide into my ears.

"Mr. Gilbert, that's four rounds in a row she's lost. Isn't it getting too obvious? What if she figures out the wheel's been rigged?"

Charles laughed, careless.

"So what if she does? That specialist nonsense was a lie to begin with."

"You nearly baked to death in that car the other day. Until I settle that score, I won't feel right. Letting her mother freeze a while is getting off light."

"Besides, her whole family lives off me. Even if she knows I rigged it, do you think she'd dare say one word against me?"

Hildegarde gave a soft little hum, then softened her voice into that pitiful act again.

"Honestly, you didn't have to go to all this trouble... Just knowing you care about me is enough."

Charles's voice warmed with a smile.

"Silly girl. Anyone who dares make you suffer, I'll make sure they pay. Every last one."

I stood in the corridor, cold all through.

The chill climbed up from the soles of my feet and crawled through my veins until my teeth were chattering.

So there was no specialist at all.

No traffic jam, no killing time.

The whole day had been a setup from the very first minute.

To settle a score for Hildegarde, he'd been willing to gamble with my mother's life.

My nails dug deep into my flesh, and the pain nearly took my legs out from under me.

My mother tugged at my hand and asked in a small voice,

"Nunu, aren't we going back in?"

I drew a deep breath, pressed down the sting in my throat, and slowly turned around.

Charles had just walked up. Seeing me standing at the door without going in, he frowned.

"Why aren't you inside yet? What are you dawdling for?"

I lifted my head and looked at him.

That sharp-featured face still pulled at me the way it always had.

Five years ago, at our wedding, he'd gone down on one knee.

He'd said that from then on he was my sky, that he'd shield me from every storm.

But now, every storm was one he'd brought.

I said nothing.

The smile fell from Hildegarde's face, replaced with a look of concern.

"Ethel, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I looked at her coldly and asked her, one word at a time,

"Hildegarde, you've been acting for so long. Aren't you tired?"

Her eyes reddened on the spot.

"Ethel, what do you mean? I don't understand."

I took a step closer, pressing in.

"Heatstroke, a fainting spell, and in exchange my mother pays you back with half her life. Quite the bargain, isn't it?"

"Enough!"

Charles snapped at me.

He strode forward in a single stride, planting himself in front of Hildegarde, his face iron-gray.

"What's gotten into you? Hildegarde was worried about your mother and came all this way to check on her, and this is how you talk to her?"

"She was worried?"

I laughed until my chest ached.

Tears rolled off Hildegarde's face like beads from a snapped string.

But she still forced herself to keep up the understanding act.

"Ethel, how can you say that about me? Your mother's sick, her memory's not good. I've never once blamed her."

"It's just... it's just that day I kept banging on the car door, calling out to her for so long, and she clearly turned and glanced at me, and still she didn't come help me..."

She sniffled, her voice growing more wounded.

"I know. Maybe your mother heard some gossip, thought I was getting too close to Mr. Gilbert, and it upset her, so she did it."

"I can keep my distance from Mr. Gilbert. There's no need for her to scare me like this..."