I Froze To Death In The Attic While He Held Her

Eight years into my marriage with Grant Hawthorne, he brought her back. Lacey Bloom. His high school sweetheart. The one that got away.
Lacey was effortless. She possessed that wide-eyed, fragile charm that disarms people before they even realize theyve been conquered. Despite drowning in debt, her "kindness" and "warmth" won over the entire Hawthorne dynasty in record time.
My husband, the stoic CEO, softened around her, rekindling a romance that felt like it belonged on a movie screen. My own children, Bella and Leo, decided within weeks that this sweet, indulgent woman was far more suited to be their mother than I ever was.
I wasnt heartbroken. Actually, I was relieved.
It meant the plot of this novel was finally concluding.
1
So, when my daughter stood before me, face twisted in bratty disdain, demanding I apologize to "Auntie Lacey," I didnt even look up. I just continued pruning the excess stems from the white hydrangeas in the vase. Snip. Snip.
"Mom! If you don't apologize, Leo and I aren't going to acknowledge you as our mother anymore!"
"Okay," I said, my voice flat. "Then don't."
I looked at the girl standing therethis child who was practically vibrating with entitlement. I felt nothing. I remembered nearly dying in labor to bring her into this world. I remembered the years I spent begging the best private tutors in Manhattan to teach her piano and French, giving her the skills to survive in this shark tank of a social circle. I remembered the nights I argued with Grant, fighting for her right to inherit company shares, not just a trust fund.
I had given her everything.
But since Lacey appeared, the narrative shifted. Lacey told them they were "just kids" and shouldn't be crushed by expectations. She encouraged Bella to skip her lessons. Suddenly, Bella wasn't practicing scales; she was shopping on Fifth Avenue with Lacey, racking up credit card bills.
If this was the path she chose, I wouldn't stop her. I was just the supporting characterthe "cold wife"in this book. My arc was over. The System had graded my performance, and soon, Id be cashing out.
Two weeks. Thats all I had left before the System extracted me back to the real world.
I set the shears down and finally glanced at her. My eyes were empty.
Bella flinched. A flicker of panic crossed her face. She wasnt used to this. For her entire life, I had been the desperate, hovering mother. I had never just... rejected her.
But the moment passed. She recovered her composure, lifting her chin to show off her new look.
"Look at this," she twirled, showing off a designer dress and a face full of makeup that was far too mature for her age. "Auntie Lacey bought me all of this. Isn't it pretty?"
"You never let me wear stuff like this," she accused. "You said I was too young, that it was 'tacky.' You made me study until I cried. You hit my hands when I played the wrong notes. You treated me like a trophy, Mom. You never gave me any dignity!"
I almost laughed. Dignity.
Those were Lacey's words, parroted by a child. I was afraid Bella would be eaten alive by this family if she wasn't sharp, if she wasn't impressive. So I taught her how to walk, how to talk, how to wield power. And in return, two gifts from Lacey were enough to erase eight years of maternal sacrifice.
Did she have any idea what I had poured into her?
Seeing my silence, Bella stomped her foot. "You don't actually love me!"
"Auntie Lacey is the one who loves me. She doesn't wake me up at 6:00 AM for vocabulary drills. She buys me clothes, reads me stories, takes me to Six Flags! She's a thousand times better than you!"
She grabbed a vase from the console table and smashed it on the floor.
"Daddy already said he's going to marry Lacey! Hes going to divorce you soon!"
She stormed out, leaving me alone in the shattering silence.
Even though I had one foot out the door, her words left a bitter aftertaste. Is the Protagonist Halo really that blinding? Does it rewrite history? Does it make all my discipline look like abuse and all her negligence look like love?
Or is it just because Im the villainess? Is everything I do inherently wrong?
When Grant first brought Lacey home, I didnt care. Then the affair started. I realized that for eight years, I was just a placeholder. A shadow of the Golden Girl.
The Hawthorne family, notoriously cold, melted for her. My children, exhausted by my high standards, flocked to her easy, sugar-coated parenting.
Grant used to respect me. But the moment Lacey moved in, chaos followed. She got "food poisoning." She "accidentally" fell into the pool. She had allergic reactions. Every single time, the evidence pointed to me.
Grant tore my room apart, threatening divorce if I didnt beg for her forgiveness.
I snapped and called her a homewrecker.
Grant slapped me. Hard. I fell into the shards of a broken vase. The glass sliced through my legs. Blood soaked the carpet. Even after bandaging it, the throbbing pain kept me awake all night.
This morning, I had dragged myself out of bed just to arrange some flowers, seeking a moment of peace. Then Bella stormed in. Now, the pain in my legs was excruciating.
The System was offline. The medical kit I bought from the System Store had been used up on Grant and the kids over the years. The housekeeper who raised me was fired by Grant last week. He had forbidden anyone from driving me to the hospital.
The only person allowed in my room was Amber, Laceys personal maid. The "medicine" she brought looked suspicious, so I didn't touch it.
I felt like a ghost haunting my own house. It was past noon, and no one had brought me food.
I dug through a drawer and found a cheap, tarnished ring. I sighed, turning it over in my fingers.
Finally, lunch arrived. It was meager, but I wasn't picky. I took one bite and immediately spat it out.
Nutmeg.
The entire staff knew I was deathly allergic to nutmeg. Lacey knew.
As I was about to tell the maid to take it away, the door burst open. Grant stormed in, looking like a vengeful god in a bespoke suit. He kicked the side table over, sending the tray crashing.
"You tried to kill Lacey," he seethed, his jaw tight. "I told you to apologize, and instead, you sit here in your high tower, throwing away the food she asked the kitchen to make for you? Is there no end to your malice, Vivian?"
I lay back on the pillows, looking at him with absolute exhaustion.
Grant lunged, his hand closing around my throat. "Why is it so hard for you to just listen?"
Eight years. I played my role perfectly. I was the devoted wife, the strict but loving mother. If they had accepted me, I could have stayed. I wanted to stay. Before the heroine arrived, I really tried.
But now... I shook my head, a sad smile touching my lips. I looked at the man who used to hold me while I slept.
"Grant," I whispered. "I've told you. I didn't hurt her. Its a performance. Shes staging it all."
His grip loosened slightly, his eyes wavering.
"You have cameras everywhere," I rasped. "If you wanted the truth, youd check the footage. But you don't want the truth. You're just bored of me."
"Since youve already decided Im guilty, what difference does an apology make?"
He stared at me, stunned. For a second, the anger vanished, replaced by something that looked like pain. He let go of my neck.
Then, the narrative took hold again. He hardened. "I thought you loved me. I thought you were different. But youre just jealous. Youre toxic."
"Lacey is an angel. How could you hurt her?"
He stood up, straightening his cuffs. "From now on, no one gives Mrs. Hawthorne any medication. And she doesn't leave this room until she crawls to Lacey and begs for forgiveness."
He waited for me to cry, to beg. I just stared at the ceiling.
He left. The air in the room felt heavy.
Amber, Lacey's maid, started cleaning up the spilled porridge. "Oh, Madam, why did you spit it out? You need to eat to heal."
She smirked, her voice dripping with faux concern. "You probably don't know, since you're stuck in here... but yesterday, little Leo called Miss Lacey 'Mommy' in the garden."
"It's a shame. You worked so hard, and now your kids hate you. You really failed as a mother, didn't you?"
She glanced at my bandaged knees. "I heard the bone might be infected. Without antibiotics... you might never walk again."
I laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "I am Mrs. Grant Hawthorne. I am the daughter of the Ross dynasty. Who are you? Youre just the help, Amber. Don't speak above your station."
I ignored the hate in her eyes and adjusted my legs, wincing.
Amber glared at me and stormed out.
I lay there, wondering if I would survive until the System returned. If I died of sepsis or starvation before the transfer, would I still get to go home?
A week passed. The food became sporadicsometimes stale bread, sometimes nothing. I didn't dare eat it. I managed to bribe a young maid, Sarah, whom I had helped years ago, to sneak me packaged crackers and bottled water.
Days later, just as the System was initiating the countdown, Lacey burst in, interrupting the sequence.
She had an entourage of staff. She looked down at me, her face glowing with triumph.
"Vivian, darling. I wish I could help you, but my leg still hurts," she pouted. Then she wrinkled her nose. "God, it smells in here. How are the maids cleaning this place? If Grant knew..."
She giggled. "But then again, Grant won't even let you go to the hospital. Why would he care if your room stinks? Right, Vivian?"
Behind her, I saw Bella and Leo.
They were clinging to Laceys dress, looking at me with a mixture of disgust and confusion. Bella stepped forward.
"Mom, Auntie Lacey just wants a sincere apology. Why are you being so stubborn? Who are you performing for? You hurt her!"
Leo, his face rounder than I remembered, scowled. "Yeah. You're evil, Mom."
Evil. I almost laughed.
Leo had impulse control issues. I spent a fortune on behavioral therapists to teach him boundaries. I watched his diet because of his health risks. Now? Lacey was stuffing him with cupcakes and letting him run wild. He looked like a balloon about to pop.
"You came here to brag?" I asked, my voice weak but steady.
"I didn't expect you to be so heartless," Lacey sighed. "Your own children reject you, and you don't even cry."
I looked at my kids. "I gave you the best of everything from the moment you were born. But if you don't want it, I won't force it. You want Lacey to be your mother? Fine. I won't fight for custody. She's yours."
Bella and Leo froze. They stared at me, eyes wide. They never expected me to let go.
Bellas lip trembled. Lacey signaled the maid.
"Don't worry, kids," the maid whispered loudly. "She's just manipulating you. She's playing mind games. She'll be begging for your love in a few days. Do you want to go back to piano lessons and homework?"
Leo snorted. "She's faking it. Dad was right. You're just pretending to be nice. I hope you never talk to us again!"
He stuck his tongue out and dragged Bella away.
"Happy now?" I asked Lacey.
Lacey sat on the edge of my bed, leaning in close. "Happy?" she whispered. "This isn't enough. I want you out on the street."
Before she finished the sentence, she screamed and threw herself backward, landing perfectly in the arms of Grant, who had just walked in.
Oscar-worthy.
Grant didn't think. He raised his hand to strike me. I flinched, shielding my head. He froze, looking at my cowering form, then at his own hand.
"She... she pushed me!" Lacey sobbed.
Grants face hardened. "Lock her on the terrace. The unheated one. One day and one night. On her knees. No food. Anyone who helps her gets fired."
He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. "Vivian... if you apologize to Lacey, I might..."
"I accept," I cut him off. "I'll go to the terrace."
The System would be back in 24 hours. I didn't need to play the game anymore.
"Don't regret this," Grant growled, his face pale.
"I won't."
He carried Lacey out. Amber laughed as she followed. "It's freezing tonight, Madam. I hope you survive the wind."
I put on my down jacket, grabbed the tarnished ring from the nightstand, and walked to the terrace.
It was colder than I imagined. The wind off the Atlantic cut through the glass. My knees were on fire, then they went numb.
Hours later, I heard whispering at the service door.
"Madam? Can you hear us?"
It was Sarah and her sister, Lily.
"Stop crying," I managed to say, my teeth chattering. "I'm not dead yet. Go, before Lacey sees you."
"We brought bread and hot water," Sarah sobbed, sliding it through the crack.
I ate ravenously. "Don't come back. Take the gold bracelets in my nightstand drawer. Split them between you."
"But Madam..."
"I have a plan," I lied. "I'm leaving Grant. I'll be fine."
They left, weeping.
I started to drift. The cold wasn't painful anymore; it was like a heavy blanket.
Finally, the voice in my head returned.
"Payment secured! Host, click confirm to..." The System paused. "Holy sht. Host, you're dying."*
"Took you long enough," I thought, my consciousness fading.
"Hold on! Extracting you from the narrative now. 5... 4... 3..."
BAM.
The terrace door was kicked open.

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