Pretending You're Mine

Chapter Two

"You are talking rubbish." Fear gripped Mercedes' throat, her whisper cracking. "You are not going to die. You shall be just fine."

"Please, Mercy. Promise me you will do this."

Sadness shot through her heart, and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. What had that man done to her once vibrant sister? "I promise."

Kat fell back on the bed in a heap. Mental withdrawal clearly engulfed her, and her blank stare riveted on the dreary wall. Mercedes' chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. She couldn't take any more of this. If she didn't leave this place soon, she'd be in a fit of tears herself. No wonder Kat was so distraught. This God-forsaken place was to blame.

As she stood, she studied her sister's sick form. Once again, anger welled within her chest. This wasn't fair. Kat hadn't deserved this fate. Mercedes vowed she'd make William Braxton pay for he had taken a once beautiful, vivacious woman and turned her into this pathetic creature. He had hurt her sister, which was unforgivable.

Mercedes picked up the lantern, turned, and knocked on the cell door. It opened, and Dr. McClain peered inside. "Is everything all right, Lady Maxwell?"

"I am ready to leave if you please."

He closed the door behind her, locked it, and then led her to the front of the building. The hall echoed with cries from other patients. She cringed, wanting to cover her ears and run far away. Instead, she remained strong, if only in appearance.

"Pardon me, sir, but is there any hope for my sister's recovery?"

His lips pursed. "I have seen many in her condition. A few have survived, but most have not. Unfortunately, many take their own lives."

She covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head.

"I am not saying the same fate will befall your sister," he continued. "But I believe you should prepare for the worst."

Irritation swept through her again, and she lifted a defiant chin. "I most certainly will not prepare myself for the worst, Dr. McClain. My sister does not deserve to be in this place. Lucifer himself wouldn't abide by these conditions. I want Kat moved immediately."

The older man shook his head. "That is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, sir. My husband had connections before he died, and if I have to find one of his associates, I will. Mark my words, Dr. McClain, within a fortnight, my sister will be moved to a more stable facility."

Marching past him and into the cold night air, she wrapped her heavy cloak around her, thwarting the chill, though her blood ran hot with volcanic anger. Straight ahead, her coach waited. The only servant left in her employ climbed down from the carriage and opened the door.

"'Ow is yer sister farin', m'lady?"

"She is not well, Timothy." A tear rolled down her already damp cheek, and she wiped away the moisture. "And that...place is only making her condition worse."

"I must say, tis a dirty place." Timothy sniffed and swiped his sleeve under his nose. "Is she...like yer father?"

"No, God rest his soul. Kat is not quite as bad...yet. I shall not let it go to that extreme. If I have to knock on every door in Preston, I will find someone who can remove my sister from this place." Determination guided her quick steps as she hastened into the coach. Timothy closed the door behind her.

One way or another, she would obtain the funds needed to move her and pay the medical bills. Her own deceased husband had gambled away all of his money before he met his maker, leaving her with very little to live on. She knew firsthand how a husband could torture his wife when not pleased, and she'd make certain Mr. Braxton didn't know about this extra expense so he wouldn't punish Kat when she returned home.