Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 31

Anna’s POV:

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The place buzzed with activity. Nurses rushed past, doctors consulted charts, and visitors hurried to find their loved ones. But despite all the commotion, I felt like everyone was staring at me.

I felt naked. Exposed. Like everyone could see right through me.

“Blake,” I said. “This isn’t my fault. It was an accident. I had no idea someone would suddenly

attack.”

He didn’t acknowledge me. The muscles in his jaw tightened–the only indication he’d heard me at

all.

“I can stay and explain everything to William and Caroline,” I offered, desperate to break through his icy silence. “You were there too. You know exactly what happened.”

His blue eyes, usually so captivating, were cold as winter.

Finally, he spoke, “Be sensible, Anna. My parents are upset and don’t have time for you right now.”

“You don’t have a single scratch on you,” he said slowly. “If you had nothing to do with this, how did you react so quickly? How did you manage to get away without a mark?”

My mouth fell open. “Are you serious? You think I-”

“You’ve been acting strange for weeks,” he continued. “Always around when Claire gets hurt.”

“Blake,” I said, my voice rising with disbelief, “are you suggesting the attacker should have hurt

me instead?”

“Yes!” The word exploded from him.

“Is this about the slap?” he asked. “Are you still angry about that?”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. Before I could step back, his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you’re unhappy, Anna, come at me. Don’t go after Claire.”

With a sharp push, he released me. I stumbled backward, losing my balance and landing hard on the

floor.

“You’re so vicious,” I gasped, rubbing my throat.

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“What are you implying?” I demanded, struggling to my feet. “That I hired someone to attack Claire? You need evidence to make accusations like that, Blake.”

He laughed a cold, humorless sound. “Evidence? Claire falls from her hospital bed, and you fake a fall of your own. She needs a massage, and suddenly you have a concussion. When you realized hurting yourself wasn’t getting you attention, you started hurting others. What more evidence do I

need?”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“You did this,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at me.

“I didn’t!” I shouted, not caring who heard us now.

Blake ran a hand through his hair, looking at me with something worse than anger–disappointment.

“Everyone in the family praised you. ‘She’s smart,‘ they said. ‘She’s accomplished.‘ I’ve heard about

your achievements from friends. But marrying you was a mistake. I should never have given you that

chance. You fooled all of us.”

My chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. The unfairness of it all–the blind accusation

without a shred of proof–made me want to scream.

I’ll speak to the police,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’ll prove I don’t know that man. And

when I do, I expect an apology.”

His lips curved into a cold smile. “You know exactly what happened. I’m going to charge that man with attempted murder. I want you to watch as your schemes put someone behind bars. I’m getting justice for Claire.”

He leaned closer, “Anna, your career at EcoMarine Group has barely started. How will it feel getting a charge of intentional harm? Can you still pretend to care about protecting marine life with a clear

conscience?”

“Just wait and see,” I replied, my voice shaking with anger.

As he walked away, I sank back against the wall, the reality of my situation crushing down on me. I need to save myself. I have to see that attacker. I need to know why he suddenly came after me!

The next morning, I tracked down a staff member at the theater entrance who had witnessed everything. He told me which police station they’d taken the attacker to. I had to move quickly- they’d soon transfer him to a detention center, and my chance would be gone.

“I need to see the man brought in yesterday for attacking a woman at Infinity Theatre,” I told the officer at the front desk of the police station.

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“Not possible,” he replied without looking up from his computer. “Visiting hours are restricted to family members.”

“I’m Anna Wright,” I said, hating that I had to use my married name as leverage. “The victim is my

sister–in–law.”

That got his attention. He looked up, eyes widening slightly as he took in my appearance.

“One moment, Mrs. Wright.”

Five minutes later, I was escorted to a private office where a middle–aged man with a receding hairline and an ill–fitting suit jumped to his feet when I entered.

“Mrs. Wright! What an honor. Please forgive my officers–they didn’t recognize you. No offense intended.”

“And you are?” I asked, remaining standing.

“Brown. James Brown.” He gestured at the chair across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

“Chief Brown, my family experienced an unfortunate incident yesterday. I’d like to see the suspect.”