Through the mess of bodies and noise, I spotted the white dress I had fallen in love with lying crushed beneath people’s shoes, the once-clean fabric ground into filth. My vision swam as the beating finally stopped, humiliation burning hotter than the pain in my bones.
At some point, mall security forced their way into the chaos and began scattering the crowd.
Later, I vaguely noticed Stephen’s car slowing as he passed the scene, his eyes flicking to the destruction in the mirror. He hesitated only briefly.
“She has guards. She won’t be in danger,” he muttered to himself.
Seraphina whimpered beside him, curling inward.
“My stomach hurts so badly… maybe when I fell earlier…”
He floored the accelerator, speeding out of the mall parking lot and straight toward the hospital.
I hovered between waking and blacking out, my body soaked in pain, my heart hollowed out by how completely alone I was.
---
I returned to the apartment by myself. Every inch of me throbbed, bruises blooming under torn skin. I didn’t report anything. I didn’t seek treatment. It all felt meaningless. Before leaving the mall, I’d retrieved the ruined white dress, folding it carefully despite the stains.
For two days I lay in bed without moving, counting the hours as though my life had already ended. Stephen never came. No calls. No messages. It was as if I’d been erased.
On the third morning, something stirred faintly inside me — a fragile flicker of strength. I took the dress from the closet, put on a little makeup, and told myself this was the day I would keep my final promise. No regrets. No turning back.
As I got into the car, my phone vibrated. Stephen’s voice came through, cold and commanding.
“Come to this address now. If you don’t, I’ll send someone to fetch you.”
My chest tightened when I saw the location. But I didn’t argue. It was my last day anyway.
The driver stopped in front of a hotel swarming with cameras. Flashing lights hit me like lightning. I tried to retreat, but Stephen seized my wrist and dragged me inside.
Seraphina sat in the first row of the hall. Behind her were layers of journalists, microphones and lenses pointed at the stage. The screen above blazed with bold red words: Public Apology Conference.
Stephen pushed me forward. The microphone was forced into my hand.
“Apologize to Seraphina,” he said quietly. “In front of everyone.”
She wore a pale maternity dress, her expression gentle, victorious. The cameras adored her.
I stood straighter.
“I haven’t done anything that requires an apology.”
His eyes hardened. “Don’t push me, Addy.”
“Seraphina almost lost her children because of you,” he continued. “You humiliated her, frightened her, treated her cruelly. Do you seriously think you owe her nothing?”
I understood then — this was theater. A way to cleanse Seraphina’s name and strip me of mine.
I forced the bitterness down.
“And why are you always defending her instead of me?” I asked. “You’re my husband. Did you ever once ask me what really happened? Or are you certain those children aren’t even yours?”
His face drained of color. He grabbed my arm.
“This is your final warning. If you refuse, your surgery is over.”
I laughed quietly.
His tone turned ironclad.
“Amelia Malonzo, apologize.”
Cameras blinded me. Seraphina’s hands rested lovingly over her belly.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said evenly. “She destroyed everything. Seraphina is the murderer.”
Stephen looked ready to kill me. I pulled free from him.
“My parents were innocent. I was never a bully. The only mistake I made was letting my mother help her.”
The room exploded in noise.
Seraphina staggered toward me. “Why are you lying? You’ll ruin my babies’ lives!”
Before I could respond, she rushed me. I raised my arms — too late.
Her stomach slammed into the table edge. Blood bloomed across her skirt.
“My babies—!”
Stephen shoved me aside and carried her away.
“If anything happens to her, you’ll regret being born,” he said without looking back.
His guards seized me and hauled me after them.
In the hospital hallway, Seraphina sobbed hysterically.
Then Stephen emerged, colder than ever.
“Amelia,” he said flatly. “Go outside. Kneel. Repent to my children. That’s your punishment.”
The guards dragged me out into the cold and forced me onto the stone ground. My knees hit hard.
I didn’t fight.
