Lilian blinked awake, feeling the cold press of a hospital bandage around her head and a dull throb from where she’d struck her head at the bottom of the stairs. Her vision was still fuzzy, and a sinking dread rose within her as she realized she wasn’t at home—she was confined to a hospital bed again. A flash of déjà vu hit her; it was almost identical to another time, another wound, another betrayal.

The room swam into focus. Chris was standing in the corner, leaning close to someone with a soft smile—a figure all too familiar. Rita. The woman’s laughter tinkled in the air, and she leaned into Chris’s embrace, whispering something he responded to with a quiet chuckle. Lilian felt an icy surge of anger watching her husband laugh with his lover right by her bedside.

Without so much as a glance in her direction, Chris murmured something to Rita. “Once she wakes up, we’ll leave. I just want to make sure she’s stable.” His words dripped with fake concern, but she recognized the thin veil of detachment.

“Am I awake enough for you?” Lilian’s voice was hoarse yet laced with steel. Chris turned, startled, but Rita’s reaction was far more satisfying—her face twisted for a fleeting second before smoothing into her usual mask of innocence.

“Oh, thank God, Lilian,” Chris exclaimed, feigning relief. In a brisk move, he came to her side, his fingers gripping her wrist. “Apologize to Rita,” he demanded, his voice hard.

“For what?” she asked, her tone low and mocking, daring him to respond. “For seeing her true colors? For seeing through the facade?” Her voice was tired but edged with a strength she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was done playing nice, done acting as if she could fit into this life she’d bought herself—a life anchored by a love that had always been one-sided.

Chris shot a glance at Rita, who performed her well-practiced look of distress. “No, Chris, please,” she said softly, her fingers brushing his arm. “I don’t need any apology from her. I… I understand.”

Lilian almost laughed at the sanctimonious tone in Rita’s voice, noting how the woman kept glancing at Chris for validation and reassurance. It was a performance, a calculated move to show herself as the forgiving, patient lover—an innocent martyr.

A bitter smile tugged at Lilian’s lips. “Your little act may work on him, but not on me.” She was barely keeping her voice steady, the rising anger clawing at her insides. “I know exactly what game you’re playing. But don’t mistake my silence for blindness. I know exactly who you are, and believe me, your sympathy act doesn’t impress me.”

Chris shot her a withering glare. “Lilian,” he snapped, “you don’t know anything about her. You’re too blinded by your own jealousy to see the person Rita really is.”

The words stung, but she met his gaze, unflinching. “You’re right. I am jealous—jealous of the way you treat her like some precious gem, while I’ve been treated like a stepping stone. Tell me, Chris, was that part of the deal?” Knowing he would have nothing to say, she didn't wait for a response.

Rita's eyes grew wide as she flawlessly portrayed the wounded victim. "Perhaps we should just leave, Chris. She is unhappy, and it is making her pain worse. I don't want to be the cause of her agony.

Unable to control her rage, Lilian angrily said, "Oh, spare me your fake sympathy. We both know you’re here because you’ve got your claws in him and because you want the world to believe you’re the wounded party. You’re here, in my hospital room, using my husband, my money, and my life, and you think I’ll just watch?”

Chris’s eyes darkened with a look of finality, and he leaned closer. “If you so much as lay a finger on Rita or even speak to her like this again, I swear, Lilian, I will divorce you. Consider this your last warning.”

Her pulse hammered in her throat. There it was—the final confirmation. She looked past him, toward the woman who had stolen everything from her. Rita stood with a smug satisfaction glinting in her eyes, though she tried to cover it with a look of mild concern. Lilian’s lip curled; it was sickening.

“Very well,” Lilian replied, her voice soft but unwavering. “I don’t need you to warn me. I don’t need you to threaten me, Chris.” A chill settled over her, steadying her in a way she hadn’t expected. “Consider this, my final warning to you.”

Chris looked confused, an instant hesitation breaking through his smug confidence. “What are you talking about?”

She took a deep breath, feeling her hands steady and her voice stronger than it had ever been. “You threatened to divorce me? Well, thank you, Chris, for the idea. I will make sure you won't have to waste your energy threatening me.

For the first time, she saw a hint of doubt in his eyes as the impact of her words spread through the room, catching her attention. Rita’s expression, however, was unreadable, though there was a spark of triumph beneath it—a smug sense of victory.

Chris’s composure faltered. “You don’t mean that, Lilian.”

“Oh, I mean every word. I may have been a fool once, but no longer.” The intensity of her words silenced the room, and for once, Chris seemed unsure of what to say.

Lilian turned her attention back to Rita, who was beginning to look a little less confident. “As for you,” Lilian continued, “enjoy this moment. Enjoy your triumph. But remember, the wheel of fate never stops turning.”

Rita scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fate? Is that all you have left, Lilian? Hollow words and empty threats?”

Lilian smiled, feeling a surge of calm wash over her. “Fate has a way of catching up with all of us. And I’d be careful if I were you.

If Chris could betray me, the woman who saved his company, just imagine what he might do to you when he tires of you.” Chris’s face tightened with a look of anger, but he didn’t interrupt. Rita, however, seemed visibly shaken, a flash of doubt crossing her expression. Lilian had struck a nerve, and she relished every second of it.

She sat up slowly, her head spinning but her resolve solidifying with each passing second. “Chris, you won’t have to tolerate me anymore. But remember,” she paused, letting her gaze settle on each of them, “what you build on betrayal and lies never lasts.”

Looking at the man she once loved and the woman who had been the wedge between them, Lilian tried to get up from the bed. She ignored Chris’s attempt to stop her, shrugging off his touch with a sense of liberation she hadn’t felt in years and the weight of a lifetime of unrequited love and false hope peeling away.

A proverb from her grandmother echoed in Lilian’s mind: “When a snake sheds its skin, it becomes a new creature—but its bite remains deadly.” For the first time in years, Lilian Drake felt that she had finally shed her skin. The bite would remain.

Steeling herself, and with a smile planted on her face, “Alright. It’s settled, then.”