The Day My Daughter Chose Her Over Me - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

My head was pounding when I came to, the ornate chandelier above me swimming in my blurred vision. Another failed escape attempt. Another night surviving death's doorstep. Each passing moment meant less time with my real family back home.
The glittering crystals above seemed almost mocking. Maybe if I reached them just right...
A strong hand clamped around my wrist before I could move. "Cora, enough," Nolan's voice cut through my haze. My CEO husband in this world looked every bit the corporate titan - perfectly tailored suit, sharp jawline, but with worry lines creasing his forehead as he examined my bandage. "Thank God you're too weak to do real damage. You nearly gave the boys heart attacks."
I knew that intense gaze too well. In the original story, this man had been the heroine's most obsessive admirer - the kind who'd burn down empires just to stand in her shadow. My first act in this world? Spiking his drink to derail that toxic storyline.
The morning after our forced marriage, I'd woken to find Nolan glaring daggers at me, looking ready to strangle me with his bare hands. But as the years passed and he saw the heroine happily married elsewhere, that rage had cooled. He'd surprised me - bringing me tea during late nights, defending me at society events when rumors flew. We'd built something real.
Or so I'd thought.
The system had practically congratulated me when Nolan's favorability meter hit 90%. "Mission nearly complete!" it chirped. I could almost taste the hospital air of my real world, where this would cure my terminal illness.
Then the storm came. Literally.
Lydia had shown up at our door drenched and sobbing that night, spinning tales of unimaginable suffering. My composed, unflappable husband had wept with her. When she "revealed" how I'd supposedly sabotaged their love years ago? The betrayal in Nolan's eyes cut deeper than any knife.
Now our family dinners sat untouched. Birthday cakes I'd baked from scratch went stale while they took Lydia to five-star restaurants. The boys - my boys, who I'd rocked through colic and bandaged scraped knees - wouldn't even meet my eyes.
"Lydia doesn't like your cooking," Nolan had said dismissively last week, as if twenty years of family meals meant nothing.
So when Nolan gripped my hand today, his "You'll always be mistress of this house" speech rang hollow. I saw the telltale twitch in his jaw - the one he gets before delivering bad news.
"And Lydia?" I prompted coldly.
He had the decency to look uncomfortable. "She just needs somewhere safe. If you'd tell us where you've hidden her—"
I barked a laugh. Of course. Lydia's gone missing again, and I'm the prime suspect. The heroine couldn't resist one final act - planting her jewelry in my closet before vanishing.
"Fine," I spat. "I killed her. Jealous wife snaps - isn't that what you all think of me anyway?" I leaned into his space, daring him. "Go on. Avenge your precious Lydia."
Nolan's hands found my throat, his usually controlled voice shaking with rage. "What happened to you, Cora? After everything Lydia's endured—"
The door burst open mid-sentence. There stood our sons, supporting a perfectly unharmed Lydia between them. Her demure smile didn't reach her calculating eyes.