“Forget it. Marcel broke off the engagement five years ago—we were the ones who wronged her back then. What happened today… just consider it compensation. Don’t blame your sister, Pauline.”
A sharp, burning pain spread from beneath me and I broke out in a cold sweat from the agony.
“A misunderstanding? You seriously have the nerve to call this a misunderstanding? Marco, what the hell happened five years ago? Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
Panic flickered in Marco’s eyes, but he forced himself to speak.
“I’ve been investigating that case all along. I told you it had nothing to do with Amy. Why are you so determined to blame her? I’m a cop—don’t you trust me?”
“You didn’t even get the full story. What right did you have to lay a hand on Amy? Pauline, apologize to her!”
Before I could say anything, my mother-in-law stormed over and slapped me across the face.
“Bitch! Are you still trying to smear Amy’s name? My son’s a damn good investigator—everyone knows it. He said she’s innocent. Who the hell do you think you are to accuse her?”
“You’re just a parentless orphan. Do you really think you're that important?”
“If my son hadn’t saved you, you’d still be selling yourself in some cheap hotel to pay off your debt. Everyone knows businesspeople are crooks—your parents' deaths were probably karma for how ruthless they were.”
“Marc, forget her. Take Amy to the hospital. Don’t forget—she’s still pregnant.”
Marco didn’t even look back. He walked out holding Amy in his arms, leaving me behind like I meant nothing.
Five years of love vanished in an instant.
Blood slowly pooled beneath me, yet the Fishers—his parents—still kicked me out that very night. A stranger on the street ended up rushing me to the ER. But it was too late. I lost the baby.
Late that night, Marco messaged me.
[Polly, don’t overthink what happened tonight. I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Amy’s still my sister-in-law—after all, she’s married to Marcel. You hurt her and I… I just didn’t know how to explain it to him. Once she’s out of danger, I’ll apologize to you in person, okay? At your favorite restaurant.]
[Please don’t be angry. It’s not good for the baby. My parents only said those awful things because they were upset.]
So… he still remembered our child.
I forced a bitter smile, the corners of my mouth twitching with mockery.
[Sure. I’ll wait for you to come back.]
[Thank you, babe. Thank you for understanding.]
That same night, Amina posted her location at the hospital. In the photo, Marco sat slouched beside a hospital bed, worry etched all over his sleeping face—undeniable, even in rest.
***
The next morning, I signed the discharge papers.
I packed my bags and headed straight for the airport. While I was in the cab, Marco sent a pin for the restaurant.
[Babe, I’ve planned a little surprise for you. I’ll swing by the house to pick you up. Be good and wait for me.]
I opened Amina’s Moments feed. She had just posted again—two minutes ago.
In the video, he was gently feeding her plain porridge, careful not to spill a drop. There was a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before.
Silently, I gave the video a like—then deleted every contact I had for both of them. Just before boarding the plane, I sent a formal whistleblower report to the chief of police, attaching the evidence I had secretly taken from Marco’s phone.
Then I mailed him the signed divorce papers.
***
At the restaurant, Marco was busy getting everything ready with help from his colleagues—setting the scene, arranging petals across the floor.
He kept checking his phone, waiting for a reply that never came. A creeping sense of unease began to settle over him.
Just as he was about to call me, a fellow officer rushed through the doors, still in uniform, face pale as a sheet.
“Captain Fisher! You need to get back to the station right now. Someone’s reported an issue with the Vogels' case. The chief’s flipping out trying to find you—something’s happened with Ms. Vogel too!”
