Heather wiped the corner of her mouth, glancing at Jason with irritation. "What are you staring at? You think I'm pregnant or something? It's your terrible cooking that made me nauseous." Jason furrowed his brow, his gaze lingering on her. He didn't respond, but the way he looked at her was unsettling. Heather took a breath, walked over to him, and suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck. "Jason, do you want me to get pregnant? To have your child?" He pulled her arms away. "Don't. I don't want that." Heather was so frustrated she wanted to bite him. "You're heartless! You say you don't want it, but you don't even bother using protection!"Jason frowned and moved away from her, with the same disgusted expression on his face as always. He acted like he couldn't stand being around her, and that only fueled her desire to get under his skin. She clung to him tighter, and before he could pull away, she bit down on his jaw, hard enough to make him wince. His brows furrowed ev
Heather returned to the hospital and spent some time with her mother. Once her mother had fallen asleep, Heather headed home to shower and change her clothes. As she opened the door to her house, a strange smell hit her—a faint scent of smoke. Her heart skipped a beat. She looked up and saw a shadow rise from the sofa. Startled, she instinctively stepped back, but Brett quickly approached her, grabbing her arm. His voice was raspy, "Heather, it's me." He slipped something into her hand and hurriedly said, "Heather, there's been a situation. Keep this with you. If the police come looking, give it to them and say your father asked you to hold onto it for him." Heather's fingers fumbled over the object. It was a phone.Brett pulled her into a brief, tight embrace, his tone unusually soft. "Some things have happened, not good ones. But don't worry, none of this will affect you. Just hand the phone over to the police, and tell them you don't know anything beyond that. You won't b
Heather found her way to an unassuming, run-down house. She pushed open the door, and before she could take a step inside, a woman rushed toward her crazedly. The guards in the room quickly restrained Chrishell. But as soon as she laid eyes on Heather, she froze, her manic energy stilled by surprise. Heather took a slow glance around the room. It was truly dilapidated, nowhere near the standard that Chrishell's persona as an artist from a comfortable, middle-class family would suggest. Heather's gaze fell on a photo lying on the table. She picked it up. In the picture, Chrishell was dressed in garishly bright clothes, holding a child. Heather raised an eyebrow. Chrishell glared at her. "What do you want? It was you, wasn't it? You had these people lock me up here!"Heather examined her carefully. Without the mask of cultured elegance, Chrishell looked utterly ordinary—far from the ethereal artistic muse she had once pretended to be. She seemed vulgar, even plain. Heath
Heather sat in the car for a long time, trying to calm her chaotic thoughts. She eventually started driving aimlessly, only to find herself near Jason's art studio. She knew he would be there since no classes were listed on his schedule today, and whenever he wasn't teaching, he practically lived in his studio. She knew his door code by heart. Jason was rigid in certain ways, particularly when it came to his habits. His passwords had always been the same since they were kids: the digits of his birth date, reversed. Heather had spied on him before, memorized the code, and used it to log into his social media accounts, even sneaking peeks at his phone. She had come and gone from his house whenever she pleased.His life was simple. Even as a teenager, Jason had been strikingly handsome, but he remained aloof, uninterested in people. Admirers had tried to get close to him, sending him private messages, and confessing their love. But he never responded. His blacklist was full of
As Heather fled from the studio, her stomach ached with a dull, growing pain. She slid into her car, her palms slick with sweat. What did Jason mean by saying she was responsible for his mother's death? She didn't even know how his mother had died. How could any of this possibly involve her? Heather drove away, her mind in chaos. It wasn't until she arrived at the Vanders' home that she started regaining some composure. She went upstairs to find Jason's father, determined to get answers. Jason's father was already swamped with worry, frantically making phone calls to try to get Brett out of his legal troubles. Seeing Heather's dazed expression, he paused to offer some reassurance. "Don't worry, I'll do everything I can to get Brett out. I won't rest until he's safe, and your father too. You have nothing to fear."Heather, barely able to keep herself steady, sank into a chair. "Could you tell me how Jason's mother died?" His expression shifted immediately, darkening with
On the drive to pick up Brett, Heather felt a deep sense of failure. She had been with Brett for so many years, yet she didn't truly know him. He had even gotten into such deep conflict with Jason—all because of her. When she arrived at the police station, she saw Brett looking uncharacteristically disheveled. The once proud and meticulous eldest son of the Vanders now had stubble covering his face, his clothes wrinkled and unkempt. He reached for Heather's hand, relieved that she had obediently handed over her phone to the authorities. "Heather, I knew I could count on you," he said with satisfaction. "Don't worry. I won't be in too much trouble. From now on, you can rely on me."Brett had long prepared for this, having orchestrated everything so that Heather's father would take the fall. Now that the scandal had broken, he had no qualms about pushing Heather's father under the bus. Heather pulled her hand free. "You smell awful. Go home, take a shower, and change your clothe
Brett clung tightly to Heather, as if she were the only anchor keeping him from sinking. His voice trembled with genuine anguish. "Heather, please don't leave me." For a long moment, Heather remained silent. At the door, Jason stood watching them, his gaze dark and unreadable. Just then, their father stormed in from outside. The moment he saw Jason, his face contorted with fury. He charged forward and slapped Jason hard across the face. "You have the nerve to show up here!" their father roared. "Do you even realize what you've done?"Jason wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, the slap having split his lip. But despite the sting, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "I did what I should have done a long time ago, Father." Their father's anger turned to disbelief as he stared at Jason's cold expression. He realized, at last, that Jason had known the truth all along. Still, the father refused to accept his youngest son's actions. Pointing a finger at him, he barked, "You
Inside the elevator, there was no one else, but with Brett's accident, plenty of people were coming by to help or visit. If she was caught by someone she knew, she'd be the first to face the consequences. Heather slapped Jason's arm twice. "Let go." He didn't. His grip tightened, his eyes fixed on the elevator's display, watching the numbers ascend. Unable to break free, Heather's voice turned sharp, mocking. "Didn't you say you didn't want me pregnant? So why do you care whether I am or not?" Jason shot her a quick glance. "So I can deal with it as soon as possible, once we know." Furious, Heather hit him hard. She struck him several times, with enough force to bruise. He didn't even flinch.When the elevator doors slid open, he dragged her out. They stepped into a hallway full of pregnant women, most of them accompanied by their husbands or family members. Their faces glowed with happiness and anticipation. Heather was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange, crushing sense