At the mention of Rita, Tilda's thoughts darkened, her smile fading. She remembered that Rita had been poisoned, which damaged her throat and left her unable to speak.

"I wonder if she is kicking herself now," Tilda said, her voice soft but edged with satisfaction.

Corrine popped a grape into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Of course she is. And she has no one to blame but herself. That is what she gets for thinking she could swipe someone else's man."

Tilda's laughter spilled out, light and sharp. "What do you think happens to her now that Hubert has cut her loose?"

Corrine leaned back, her expression gleeful. "Well, if it were me, I would be a mess—curled up, crying my eyes out. She lost her career, her man—she is probably falling apart."

Tilda's smile turned wicked. "Well, let us see how low she sinks."

Elsewhere, Rita lay in her hospital bed, the silence pressing in as she stared at the door, waiting—-hoping-for someone to come.

Three days in this place, and Hubert had only shown his face once, on day one.

She had messaged him, her words laced with desperation, demanding to know why he hadn't come to visit her.

His reply was cold and curt, stating that he was busy with work.

Busy. Right. The word echoed in her mind, laced with betrayal.

Typical man, dodging with flimsy lies.

A wave of panic surged through Rita.

Could Hubert be pulling away from her now that her voice was ruined after being poisoned?

No. That couldn't be. He'd promised to marry her. Besides, she was poisoned because of him.

If anyone owed her loyalty, it was Hubert. He had to take responsibility. After everything that had happened, how could he not?

But deep down, doubt gnawed at her.

Could a man like Hubert-born into wealth and status—really keep a promise to someone like her? A woman with no powerful family, no backing?

The more she thought about it, the more anxious she became.

Still, she waited. But Hubert never showed. Restless, she picked up her phone and sent him a message. "Hubert, where are you?"

Thirty minutes passed. No reply.

Her chest tightened. She cleared her throat and dialed his number.

For the past couple of days, she'd been able to speak again —-barely.

But her voice wasn't the same.