Killed Me for Your Precious Angel? Now Pray She Can Save You from Hell - Chapter 106: Chapter 106

I ignored him and asked instead: "What about Coco? What did the vet say?"
Kieran hesitated.
Then said casually: "She's fine, just needs to stay at the animal hospital for observation."
I felt some relief, but the bitterness wouldn’t go away
Coco was getting old—and now it was suffering because of me.
The next second, my eyes drifted toward the window—a clump of blood-soaked cat fur stuck to the glass!
My brain went into meltdown mode.
I bolted upright, practically begging as I grabbed Kieran's sleeve:
"Kieran, please, don't bullshit me. Where is Coco?"
The tears streaming down my face seemed to freak him out.
His warm thumb wiped away my tears and said firmly:
"Babe, Coco's okay. You know I’d never lie to you."
My throat closed up completely. I couldn't say a damn word anymore.
Because when I'd gotten my Fairfax's real heiress identity back but everyone still hated me, I'd climbed up to the roof.
Kieran had grabbed my hand and held on tight, saying seriously:
"Hey, not everyone hates you. Death never solve problems. Someone actually gives a damn about you… Me."
After he pulled me back up, I cried seeing his torn hand muscles.
He just kept saying he hadn't lied, that he never would for the rest of our lives.
I loved him, so I believed every word.
But now, trying not to shake apart, I just wanted the truth.
"Kieran, when Grandma died and you happened to be overseas on business—was that real too?"
Once again, he let me down.
Kieran nodded with the same confidence:
"Yeah, babe, sorry about that. I couldn't be there for you, but it really was just work stuff."
In that moment, it felt like a hurricane was roaring in my ears, and the light in my eyes slowly died.
I couldn't lie to myself anymore.
When Grandma passed, I cried until I nearly went blind.
But that was also when Camille got pregnant with Miles.
The business trip was fake. Coco being alive was fake.
And seven years of our love... all fake.
No wonder at my first society dinner, when the waiter called me Mrs. Howard, everyone started snickering.
"Mrs. Howard? Please. Howard won't even knock her up."
Turns out I'd been the laughingstock way longer than I thought.
I fought to control my shaking and handed Kieran the divorce papers.
"I'm dead serious, Kieran Howard. Sign it."
Kieran couldn't believe that after he'd lowered himself to comfort me, wipe me down, and take care of me, THIS WAS my response.
He lost his shit and tore up the thick stack of papers.
His lips were trembling with rage, and he didn't even notice when the sharp paper cut his hand.
The silence stretched forever.
Just as he was about to say something, a maid outside suddenly screamed:
"Fire! Oh my God, there's a fire! Someone help!"
After half an hour of chaos, Kieran furiously dragged me outside.
"Miles just moved into your old room and you tried to fucking burn him alive!"
Everything went blurry for a few seconds.
Before I could even process what was happening, I hit the cold floor hard.
My stomach took another hit.
The pain stole my breath.
But when I lifted my eyes, that physical pain was nothing compared to what I saw.
All my paintings—the ones I treasured like my life—were completely burned to ash.
Over the past few years, I'd gotten quieter and quieter.
My therapist said I was showing major signs of depression.
But Dad didn't give a shit. He just said I should be more like Camille, make friends, broaden my horizons.
Mom was even harsher—said I lived like a sewer rat and was an embarrassment to the Fairfax name.
The only two things that helped me deal with the crushing weight were Kieran and my paintings.
Then Kieran changed.
And now my blue skies, grass fields, and sunflowers—all of it on that canvas, gone in flames.
I stared at Kieran with everything I had left.
Even if he didn't love me, I just wanted him speak one word in my defense. Just one.