SIX

JOLENE'S POV

The cab smelled like stale cigarettes and regret.

I sat with my knees pressed together, my sister's old cardigan clutched over the dress I hadn't changed out of. Every red light felt like a personal insult, every siren in the distance twisting my stomach tighter. I kept replaying it in my head, the cup shaking in my hand, Rebecca's body hitting the floor, Maya's finger pointed straight at me like I was already convicted.

By the time I got to the hospital, my hands were shaking so hard I nearly dropped my purse at the reception desk.

"Rebecca Henderson," I told the nurse, breathless. "She was brought in maybe twenty minutes ago."

The nurse checked her screen, unbothered by my panic, the way people who see tragedy every day become numb to other people's worst nights. "Family can wait in the fourth floor lounge."

Family… I almost laughed. Three years caring for Logan and one month married to his son, and I still didn't know if that word applied to me in this house.

I found the lounge easily enough, the loud voices leading me there before the signs did.

Maya was already curled into the chair beside Jake, her head on his shoulder, a tissue pressed under her eyes even though I hadn't seen a single tear fall. Hailey paced by the window, phone in hand, probably drafting a caption for whatever she planned to post about her suffering family.

Jake stood the second he saw me.

"Where were you?" he snapped, and I flinched like he'd struck me.

"You told me to take a cab," I reminded him, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. "I came as fast as I could."

"She could have died," he said, and something in his tone made it sound like an accusation aimed directly at me.

"I didn't do anything to her, Jake. I swear."

"That's not what it looked like," Maya cut in, sniffling delicately, dabbing at eyes that weren't wet. "You were standing right there with the cup—"

"Because she made it for me," I said, and I hated how desperate I sounded, how my voice cracked on the last word. "I was the one feeling sick. She was being kind to me for once and then she just collapsed."

Jake's jaw ticked. He didn't believe me. Or maybe he did and just didn't have the strength to say so in front of Maya, who had her manicured hand pressed flat against his chest like she owned some claim to comforting him.

"The doctor said it might be her blood pressure," he muttered finally, dragging a hand down his face. "They're running tests."

Relief crashed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled. Not because I cared what they thought of me. But because for one terrifying moment I had actually pictured myself the villain in a story where a woman had died believing I hurt her.

"Can I see her?" I asked.

"No," Maya answered before Jake could, like she'd been appointed spokesperson for a family that wasn't hers. "She needs rest. Not stress."

I bit my tongue and took the farthest seat in the lounge, hugging myself as the hours crawled by, the hospital clock ticking louder than it had any right to.

It was nearly midnight when the elevator dinged and a man stepped out that I had never seen before.

Tall, dark suit that looked like it cost more than the hospital wing, a face carved with the same sharp lines as Jake's, except his eyes weren't green. They were a cold, assessing grey, the kind that made you feel measured the second they landed on you.

Jake stood immediately, and something shifted in the room, a tension I didn't understand yet.

"Uncle Victor," he said, voice tight.

Victor Henderson.

I remembered the name from the will reading. The uncle who'd been in Europe for five years. The man who would inherit everything if this marriage fell apart before its time. I had built a picture of him in my head, someone circling like a vulture, but the man standing in front of me didn't move like that at all.

"I heard about Rebecca," Victor said, his gaze sweeping the room once before landing, briefly, on me. "Came as soon as I could."

Maya sprang to her feet with practiced grace, extending a hand. "You must be the infamous uncle. I'm Maya, Jake's—"

"I know who you are," Victor said, without taking her hand.

Maya's smile faltered for half a second before she recovered it, tucking the hand back against her side like it had never reached out at all.

Victor's gaze slid back to me, and I felt suddenly exposed, like I hadn't slept in days and it showed on my face.

"And you," he said, "must be Jolene."

I swallowed. "Yes."

"My brother spoke of you," he said, something unreadable passing behind his eyes. "Often."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing, just nodded and looked down at my hands, at the faint burn mark still healing from days before.

"She was accused of poisoning my mother," Hailey offered from the window, not even looking up from her phone, like it was gossip and not my life hanging in the balance.

Victor's brows lifted slightly. "Was she now."

"It's not true," I said quickly, my voice cracking before I could stop it.

"I didn't ask if it was true," Victor said, and for a second I thought he was mocking me too. Then he added, "I asked because I wanted to hear it from her, not from a phone screen."

Hailey finally looked up, offended, but said nothing.

Jake stepped between us then, like he needed to remind the room he still existed. "She's fine, Uncle. It's handled."

"Is it," Victor said, not a question really. He studied Jake for a long moment, something calculating in his expression, the kind of look that made me wonder how much he already knew before he ever walked through that door. "You look tired, Jake. All of you do."

No one answered that.

A doctor appeared then, and the whole room turned toward her at once, the way people do when they've been dreading and praying for the same piece of news.

"Mrs. Henderson is stable," she said. "Likely a blood pressure episode combined with dehydration. She'll need to stay overnight for observation, but she should make a full recovery."

The breath I'd been holding for hours finally left me in one long exhale.

Maya immediately latched onto Jake's arm, murmuring something about how relieved she was, how frightened she'd been, performing gratitude like there was still a camera on her. Jake nodded along, distracted, his eyes drifting once, briefly, to me.

I looked away first.

"I should go home," I said quietly to no one in particular, gathering my purse with hands that hadn't fully stopped shaking.

"I'll have my driver take you," Victor said, already reaching for his phone.

Jake's head turned sharply. "I can arrange that."

"You're staying with your mother," Victor said simply. "I'm not busy."

There was something in the way he said it, calm, unbothered, like he wasn't asking permission from anyone in the room, that made Jake's jaw tighten again.

"It's fine," I said quickly, not wanting to be the reason for whatever silent argument was happening between them. "I can take a cab."

"You've taken enough cabs tonight," Victor said, and it wasn't unkind. If anything, it was the first thing anyone had said to me all evening that didn't feel like an accusation.

I didn't argue this time.

As I followed him toward the elevator, I felt Jake's eyes on my back the entire way, and when I glanced over my shoulder just once, I caught him watching, Maya still attached to his arm, his expression unreadable in a way that unsettled me more than his anger ever had.

For a man who wanted a divorce in twelve months, he looked like he hated watching me leave with someone else.