Page 85 of The Devil's Torment

Elizabeth, on the other hand, is fair fucking game.

I rub circles over Victoria’s back as she trembles in my arms until she eventually gathers herself. I let her go, only to grab a handful of tissues and wipe her face, and then she’s in my arms again. The only time I’ve seen her this vulnerable was when she confessed her difficulty climaxing. Victoria has a spine of steel. To see her like this, almost broken… well, it breaks me, too. I can’t bear it.

Elizabeth will pay for what she’s done. I’ll fucking make sure of it.

How could I have ever considered marrying her when the right woman for me is the one in my arms? I must’ve had a fucking lobotomy to even consider it, let alone make a conscious choice.

“Do you want something to drink? Or to eat?”

It’s killing me to wait for her to be ready before she tells me what the fuck is going on, but I don’t want to rush her. She’s obviously wiped, the shock of finding out her sister is alive plastered all over her face.

“I’m okay.” She rubs her lips together. “Get ready to have your mind blown.” She tucks her hand inside mine and leads me to the couch, where we both sit. Taking her time, she reels off the story Elizabeth told her. My jaw falls farther open with each revelation. It’s like she’s recounting the plot from a Netflix crime drama. When she tells me the man Elizabeth ran off with is called Joel, my chin almost hits the floor.

“You’re fucking kidding?”

Blinking, she frowns. “No. Why?”

“The guy you saw in the café in Windsor? The one we followed home. His name was Joel.”

She steeples her fingers beneath her nose and blows out a heavy breath. “God. This is all such a mess.”

Fucking understatement of the century. “Who did we bury, Victoria? Who’s in that plot on De Vil land?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. All Beth said was that she was a homeless girl who seemed to be completely alone in the world.”

“I call bullshit on that. Everyone has someone, even if it’s a friend rather than family.”

“I know. I agree. But what do we do?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a stream of air. “We’ll have to have the body exhumed and examined. By someone fucking legitimate.”

“God. I’m sorry, Nicholas. This is all so… unbelievable. So horrible.”

Indeed. “Hit me with it then. What’s the reason she’s chosen now to come back?”

She avoids my gaze for a few seconds, but when she finally looks at me, my stomach swoops like a pelican diving for fish. I don’t like this. I don’t fucking like this at all. Without her uttering a word, I know I’m not going to handle this well.

“She’s dying. For real this time.”

I blink several times in succession. Christ. That’s not what I expected her to say. No wonder she’s wrecked. What a mindfuck. To find out her sister isn’t dead, to go through the shock of that, then discover she’s dying after all.

Even so, I still can’t muster up a shred of empathy for Elizabeth. It takes a special kind of person to put a family through torture and grief like she has. All my empathy is for my wife. Whatever her sister has done, she still loves her, and knowing what a conniving bitch Elizabeth turned out to be must hurt like a motherfucker.

If it were me, I’d cut her off like a gangrenous leg. But Victoria isn’t me. She’s a far more forgiving and empathetic person than I am.

“C’mere.” I hold out my arms, but she stays where she is.

“That’s not all.”

My stomach vaults again. She’s gnawing on her lip, and her eyes keep flicking to mine, then away, then back to me again. Every instinct I have tells me to brace myself. As if the story so far isn’t incredible, the real kicker is yet to come.

“Go on.”

“A few weeks ago, she caught an infection, and the antibiotics they gave her didn’t work fast enough. The infection got into her kidneys and destroyed them.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah. She’s on dialysis four times a week, but that’s not a long-term solution.” She looks me dead in the eye, then hits me with it. “Her best chance is a kidney transplant.”

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