He Chose Her Over Me, So I Let Him Die - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading He Chose Her Over Me, So I Let Him Die, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of He Chose Her Over Me, So I Let Him Die.
I'd barely stepped past the Thaddeus estate's wrought-iron gates when a sleek black sedan glided to a stop beside me. The door swung open, and a woman emerged—only to drop to her knees on the pavement.
"Miss Baldridge, I beg you… save my son."
Laura Caldwell. Of the Caldwells.
Turns out the car crash that nearly killed Richard Thaddeus a year ago had also left his lifelong rival, Maximus Caldwell, in a vegetative state.
But after how my last life ended? My blood wasn't for sale anymore.
I refused.
Laura didn't grovel. Just wiped her tears with the back of her hand and left like the aristocrat she was.
A week later, an embossed invitation arrived: the Thaddeuses were throwing a banquet. Scarlett had returned triumphant with some mythical "Snow Lotus," and Diana—ever the skeptic—wanted me to verify it.
The ballroom glittered with champagne flutes and false smiles. Scarlett clung to Richard's wheelchair like a barnacle, radiating smugness. Diana cornered me near the ice sculpture, her voice fraying.
"It's not the medicine I doubt. It's the hope." Her fingers twisted her pearls. "Every failed treatment dims his eyes a little more. As his mother… God, I can't watch him break again."
Before I could respond, Scarlett steered Richard toward us, her grip possessive. "Diana, relax. This will work. I nearly froze to death retrieving that lotus."
Richard gazed up at her like she'd hung the moon. "When I walk again," he vowed, squeezing her hand, "I'll give you the wedding of the century."
Scarlett's smirk slid my way, razor-thin. "Unlike some so-called healers, I actually deliver results."
The room went still. Three gray-haired physicians spluttered into their cognac.
"Preposterous!"
"You're contradicting a dozen specialists!"
"Even Miss Baldridge's family declared his condition untreatable!"
Richard flushed but doubled down. "I believe in Scarlett."
I laughed.
Scarlett's smile turned venomous. "Jealous, Miss Baldridge? Diana did want you to marry him first." She leaned in, stage-whispering, "But face it—you're obsolete."
Richard wheeled closer, lip curled. "Let's be clear. The only woman I'll ever marry is Scarlett. You? I wouldn't spare you a glance if you begged on all fours."
Their theatrics were exhausting. "Your mother asked me to assess the lotus," I said, adjusting my gloves. "But since you've got it all figured out? By all means—prove me wrong."
"Miss Baldridge, I beg you… save my son."
Laura Caldwell. Of the Caldwells.
Turns out the car crash that nearly killed Richard Thaddeus a year ago had also left his lifelong rival, Maximus Caldwell, in a vegetative state.
But after how my last life ended? My blood wasn't for sale anymore.
I refused.
Laura didn't grovel. Just wiped her tears with the back of her hand and left like the aristocrat she was.
A week later, an embossed invitation arrived: the Thaddeuses were throwing a banquet. Scarlett had returned triumphant with some mythical "Snow Lotus," and Diana—ever the skeptic—wanted me to verify it.
The ballroom glittered with champagne flutes and false smiles. Scarlett clung to Richard's wheelchair like a barnacle, radiating smugness. Diana cornered me near the ice sculpture, her voice fraying.
"It's not the medicine I doubt. It's the hope." Her fingers twisted her pearls. "Every failed treatment dims his eyes a little more. As his mother… God, I can't watch him break again."
Before I could respond, Scarlett steered Richard toward us, her grip possessive. "Diana, relax. This will work. I nearly froze to death retrieving that lotus."
Richard gazed up at her like she'd hung the moon. "When I walk again," he vowed, squeezing her hand, "I'll give you the wedding of the century."
Scarlett's smirk slid my way, razor-thin. "Unlike some so-called healers, I actually deliver results."
The room went still. Three gray-haired physicians spluttered into their cognac.
"Preposterous!"
"You're contradicting a dozen specialists!"
"Even Miss Baldridge's family declared his condition untreatable!"
Richard flushed but doubled down. "I believe in Scarlett."
I laughed.
Scarlett's smile turned venomous. "Jealous, Miss Baldridge? Diana did want you to marry him first." She leaned in, stage-whispering, "But face it—you're obsolete."
Richard wheeled closer, lip curled. "Let's be clear. The only woman I'll ever marry is Scarlett. You? I wouldn't spare you a glance if you begged on all fours."
Their theatrics were exhausting. "Your mother asked me to assess the lotus," I said, adjusting my gloves. "But since you've got it all figured out? By all means—prove me wrong."
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