A Vicious Curse

"You think you haven’t done anything wrong, don't you?" Sloane sneered. The sweet, elegant demeanor she had displayed moments ago vanished, replaced by a twisted expression of malice. She took another aggressive step, trapping Tessa against the cold tiles of the hospital wall. "Do you want to know why I loathed you ever since we were children? Because I knew you had this secret crush on Desmond! He’s mine! You have no right to steal him from me!"

The words struck Tessa like a series of physical blows. Her eyes widened, her chest tightening as the air seemed to vanish from the corridor. Sloane had known? All this time, through their teenage years, Sloane had known exactly how she felt?

A flood of memories crashed through Tessa's mind. She remembered the countless times Sloane had dragged her along to dates with Desmond. She remembered the deliberate, extravagant displays of affection, the stolen kisses right in front of her face, the way Sloane would gaze at Desmond while throwing a triumphant smirk over his shoulder. If Sloane had known about her crush all along, why orchestrate those moments? A sickening realization settled in the pit of Tessa’s stomach. Sloane had flaunted her intimate relationship with Desmond on purpose. She had orchestrated those situations merely to inflict psychological pain, ensuring Tessa always knew her place.

"Even if I had feelings for him back then," Tessa managed to say, her voice steadying as she met her cousin's furious gaze. "You were his girlfriend. I never crossed a line. I never did anything to jeopardize your relationship! If you loved him so much, why did you run away overseas three years ago when he needed you most?"

"Do you think I'm anything like you?" Sloane spat, her eyes flashing with a dangerous arrogance. "Do you think all I care about is romance and playing house? I was at the peak of my musical career three years ago! I couldn't just throw everything away to marry some man and pop out kids!"

Sloane stepped closer, jabbing a manicured finger toward Tessa’s shoulder. "You are despicable, Tessa. You took advantage of my absence. You manipulated the situation to marry him just so you could elevate your social status. Look at you—a country girl playing dress-up in a world she doesn't belong in! Everything you have right now, the luxury cars, the designer clothes, the fine food you eat... that was all supposed to be mine! You should be on your knees thanking me for leaving him behind, but instead, you act like you're better than me. Don't kid yourself. Desmond will dump you. The person he truly loves is still me!"

Tessa stared at the woman before her, rendered speechless. Over the past three years, she had indeed lived a life of luxury. Desmond had constantly showered her with expensive handbags, high-end jewelry, and tailored dresses. Whenever she tried to refuse his gifts, he would casually remind her that she was Mrs. Carlisle and needed to dress the part to avoid bringing him shame in social circles. She had spent every single day meticulously curating her appearance and behavior, constantly reminding herself of her title, doing everything in her power to be a wife worthy of his name. She had thought she was building a real life with him. Now, she saw that all her efforts were nothing but ammunition for Sloane to mock her.

Sloane wasn't finished. Seeing the raw shock and hurt swirling in Tessa's eyes, her lips curled into a vicious smile. She decided to pivot her attack to the one place she knew would truly destroy Tessa's composure.

"You're just as useless as your sorry excuse of a mother, Tessa Vance!" Sloane sneered, her voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "A disgrace to the Vance family. No wonder her man abandoned her and you grew up fatherless."

"Shut your mouth!" Tessa snapped, her blood boiling in an instant. "Don't you dare bring my mother into this!"

"I'm just stating facts! Your mother dragged the Vance name through the mud. Every single uncle we have gets a migraine just hearing your names mentioned. And yet, you two leeches still hover around the household, plotting to steal the family inheritance. I don't know what Grandmama was thinking. Why did she give your mother that property from her dowry? She showed favoritism to your useless mother over mine! She should have gotten rid of you two long ago!"

"My mother and I never fought for anything!" Tessa shouted. She knew nothing about the generational conflicts or her grandmother's choices regarding the estate, but she would not stand here and listen to the woman who raised her be degraded.

"Luckily, God is fair," Sloane continued, her tone dipping into a sickeningly sweet cadence. "He didn't give your mother a healthy body. It's karma for being so shameless. Now she has to survive on pills and treatments. She has to be almost dead by now, right?"

The vile curse directed at the frail, sickly woman who had raised her single-handedly acted like a spark to dry kindling. An explosive fury blinded Tessa. The years of restraint and forced politeness she had built up snapped in a single heartbeat.

"I said shut up!" Tessa lunged forward, throwing her hands out and shoving hard against Sloane's chest.

She hadn't used all her strength, but she desperately needed Sloane away from her. Sloane, however, reacted with exaggerated theatrics. She let out a loud, piercing scream, throwing her arms up as she stumbled backward in a dramatic display. Her high heels tangled together. Her body twisted mid-air, and she crashed heavily toward the metal seating area lining the hospital corridor.

A sickening thud echoed through the hall as Sloane's forehead struck the sharp edge of a metal bench. Her right wrist twisted awkwardly beneath her weight as she hit the ground.

"Ah! It hurts!" Sloane wailed, curling into a tight ball as she clutched her head, her face twisting in agony.

At that exact moment, the sound of rapid, heavy footsteps echoed from around the corner. Tessa turned her head and saw Desmond sprinting toward them, a designer handbag clutched tightly in his grip. His face darkened with sheer panic as his gaze landed on Sloane writhing on the floor.

Desmond threw the handbag aside without a second thought and dropped to his knees, frantically gathering the crying woman into his protective arms.

"Sloane! Are you alright?" he demanded, his voice thick with anxiety.

"My head... my wrist," Sloane whimpered, burying her face against his chest, tears streaming down her flawless cheeks. "It hurts so much, Desmond."

He traced the rising bump on her forehead and the visible swelling on her wrist. Then, he snapped his head up, his eyes locking onto Tessa. The look he gave her was lethal.

"What are you doing, Tessa?!" he roared, his voice echoing fiercely down the sterile corridor.

Trembling from head to toe, Tessa took a hesitant step forward. She reached out, her fingers catching the soft fabric of his shirt. She looked into the eyes of the man she had called her husband for three years, desperately needing him to understand what had just transpired.

"She... she cursed my mother first," Tessa stammered, her voice shaking as she pleaded for him to listen. "She was saying horrible things. She said my mother had a premarital affair, that she was a disgrace to the family..."

Desmond didn't soften. He didn't offer the gentle, understanding gaze he had given her over the past three years. Instead, he slowly turned his head, his expression morphing into freezing coldness.

"Isn't that the truth?!" he snapped viciously.

Tessa’s fingers went numb. She let go of his shirt as if the fabric had burned her skin. The breath violently left her lungs.

During their marriage, he had treated Vera with so much respect. He had bought her the best medicines, hired top doctors, and visited her regularly. Vera had constantly praised him, convinced that Desmond was deeply in love with her daughter.

But the sneer on his face right now, the pure disdain ringing in his voice, shattered Tessa’s entire world. He wasn't defending her. He was validating Sloane's insults. The undeniable realization washed over her—all his past warmth was a lie. He had always looked down on her and her mother's origins. He had always seen them as exactly what Sloane described.

"Desmond..." Tessa whispered, her voice breaking. "You... you always looked down on us?"

He saw the devastation in her eyes, a flicker of something crossing his face, but a loud sob from Sloane demanded his immediate attention.

"Desmond, I think I'm going to faint," Sloane cried out, clutching her right hand to her chest. "My wrist is in agony. What if I can't play the piano anymore?"

The lethal glare returned to Desmond’s eyes as he stared back at Tessa. "Do you realize what you've done? Sloane is a professional pianist! She just recently underwent delicate wrist surgery. A new injury could be a death sentence to her entire musical career!"

"I... I didn't know that," Tessa said hollowly, staring at Sloane's limp hand.

"Enough!" he barked, dismissing her presence entirely as if she were a piece of garbage in his path. "I have to get her to a doctor right now. You can go back on your own!"

Without another glance in Tessa's direction, Desmond carefully swept his fragile childhood sweetheart up into his strong arms. He held her close to his chest and carried her away down the hall, his broad back disappearing into the distance without looking back once.

Left hollow and standing alone in the cold corridor, Tessa let out a bitter, choked laugh.

She mocked her own wishful thinking. She had actually believed she was building a happy marriage. She had thought his care and attention meant genuine love. But the moment his true love returned, she was discarded like trash. The illusion was over.

Dispirited and drained, she forced herself to move, trudging step by step toward the hospital exit. The automatic sliding doors parted, hitting her with a gust of warm air. Standing by the curb was Desmond’s stoic assistant, Gideon, waiting next to a sleek black car.

"Madam, I'm here to take you home," Gideon said respectfully.

Tessa looked at the polished vehicle, a symbol of the gilded cage she had lived in. "Gideon, I'm not going back to the mansion."

Gideon frowned slightly, though his professional demeanor remained firmly intact. "Where would you like to go?"

"Take me to visit my mother's apartment."

Gideon pulled out his phone. "I need to call Mr. Carlisle to report this."

"Go ahead. He doesn't have the time to care where I go anymore," she replied flatly.

Gideon dialed the number in silence. After a brief, quiet conversation, he lowered the phone. "Mr. Carlisle says that if you are in a bad mood, you are permitted to stay with your mother for a few days."

Tessa offered a lonesome, empty smile. A jarring, painful departure from the past. Just weeks ago, he had possessed an obsessive insistence that she must never spend a single night away from his side. If she ever suggested staying with Vera, he would veto it instantly, demanding she sleep in their marital bed.

Now, he was casually giving her permission to leave. He didn't care anymore.

"Let's go," she said, climbing into the back seat.

The drive to the cramped, familiar apartment building passed in a blur of city lights. Tessa stood outside the wooden door for a long moment, taking deep, shuddering breaths. She forced the muscles in her face to lift, pasting a bright, fake smile onto her lips before turning the handle.

Vera Vance opened the door wider, her pale, sickly face lighting up with genuine surprise. "Tessa? Why did you come all of a sudden without even a call? Where is Desmond today?"

"His work schedule suddenly got busy," Tessa lied, stepping inside and wrapping her arms around her mother. "He had back-to-back meetings and couldn't make it. But that's fine, it means we get to have some girl talk."

"That's rare," Vera murmured, leading her daughter into the small living room. "Every time you come to visit me, he always comes along."

"He's really just too busy, Mom. Don't worry about him." Tessa turned away quickly, desperate to hide the overwhelming heartbreak threatening to spill from her eyes. The tears were burning hot at the back of her throat.

"I bought some grapes and cherries," Tessa announced, her voice pitched a little too high. "I'll go wash them."

She hurried into the small kitchen, turning the faucet on full blast. The rush of water drowned out the sound of her ragged breathing. She scrubbed the fruit, trying to keep her hands busy, focusing entirely on the simple, repetitive motion to keep herself from breaking down. She needed a few more minutes to compose herself before she could sit down and face her mother.

In the small living room, Vera watched her daughter's tense back for a moment, a quiet sadness in her eyes. Slowly, she turned toward a worn box resting nearby. Vera reached inside and quietly drew out a striking red file.