A heart-wrenching scream tore through the air.
The smile on Tahlia’s face vanished, replaced by an endless, agonized cry.
She wailed, clutching herself, and Alaric’s eyes burned with rage. He stumbled forward, scooping up the bleeding girl.
“Don’t be afraid, Tahlia… you’ll be fine. I’ll take you to the hospital right now…” His voice trembled, taut with desperation.
Soren froze, horrified, his small figure rooted to the spot.
“Dad…” he whispered, dazed.
“Get out! You’re just as bad as your mother! The thing I regret most… is marrying her and having you!” Alaric screamed, veins throbbing, eyes icy with cold fury.
But he had forgotten.
I had never wanted children.
It had been him, coaxing me with sweet words: “Maris, a child is the fruit of love, a symbol of our happiness. Let’s have a baby… a complete family.”
And now, he regretted it. But it didn’t matter. He would have more regrets soon enough.
The birthday party dissolved into chaos. Guests fled in fear, no one daring to challenge me.
Soren stood frozen, tears brimming in his eyes. But he clenched his jaw, holding them back stubbornly.
I silently wiped the blood from my hands with a clean tablecloth, then walked to him.
“What’s wrong, little one? Afraid he won’t want you anymore?” I asked softly.
He glanced up, suppressing tears, then lowered his head.
“He never wanted me.”
His words cut deeper than any blade. The reason Alaric had returned home despite my threats was simple: at that time, Soren had been his only son. He may have been five, but he was sharp enough to see the truth.
After a flash of memories, I understood.
I crouched to his level. With a half-hearted, wry smile, I whispered, “Soren, remember the third lesson: how to protect your own interests.”
We got into my car. Alaric’s vehicle was not far behind.
I accelerated, closing the distance quickly. Rain and drizzle mixed with the breeze through the open window, giving me a clear view of him.
Alaric had taken the wheel himself. His body was stiff, face still etched with the fiery red marks of the whip, but he barely flinched. He soothed Tahlia in the back seat, her cries of pain slicing through the tense air.
“Tahlia… bear with it. The hospital’s almost here. Don’t fall asleep. I beg you.” His voice trembled with humility and fury at the same time. “Damn Maris… if anything happens, I’ll make her pay!”
A mocking smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
Without hesitation, I turned the wheel sharply, ramming his car.
The sudden force threw Alaric into a daze, and Tahlia, struggling in the back seat, toppled over with a shriek of pain.
Soon he regained consciousness, and through the window, he caught my smug, unrepentant smile.
Bloodshot eyes blazed with fury, his entire body trembling. He roared, “Maris! Are you fucking crazy? Don’t you know this is a main road? If anything happens, we’re all doomed!”
My smile widened, unshaken. I glanced at him and said nothing—letting the terror in his eyes speak for itself.
I turned the steering wheel again and rammed him.
Only then did Alaric realize—what I had said at the banquet hall wasn’t empty threats. I truly wanted to drag him down with me.
His pale lips pressed together. For the first time, his composure faltered. He spoke in a careful, negotiating tone:
“Maris… calm down. After I get her to the hospital, we can talk. Okay?”
Anxious flickers betrayed him, despite the practiced calm.
But I remembered the twenty-six-year-old me, speaking to him in that same tone.
“Alaric… as long as you come back to your family and treat me and our son right, I can forgive you for having a mistress.”
Back then, he had sneered, “Maris, don’t be so naive. Things will never go back to the way they were. Don’t dream of me being your dog anymore.”
Those memories, though unfamiliar, felt alive in my bones.
A playful smile curled across my lips. I flung the knife, still dripping with his blood, through the car window.
“Alaric… I’ll give you two choices to end this chase.”
“One: castrate yourself.”
“Two: go to hell with me.”
“Life or death… which will it be?”
