For a moment, the room was thick with accusation and tension. Hannah, ever the actress, wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “No, it’s my fault, Jaxon. I ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have touched it. Please, don't hurt my best friend.”
Jaxon softened, but only slightly, turning his concern to her.
“Even so, you have to understand the danger of pushing Hannah. You lost a lot of babies, Beatrice… and maybe this is the reason why? Because you’re not fit to become a mother when you can’t even take care of another’s baby.”
Without another word, they left me standing there—alone with the shards of my mother’s painting and the echo of Jaxon’s slap.
I could only laugh, a hollow, bitter sound that bounced off the walls. Let them go. Let them have their empty comfort and their lies.
I knelt down, gathering the broken pieces of the painting.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I tried to piece it together.
For a moment, I allowed myself to grieve, not just for the painting, but for everything I’d lost: my parents, my children, my marriage, my sense of safety.
But grief couldn’t hold me forever. I wiped my tears and stood, resolve hardening inside me.
I wouldn’t stay here any longer. This house was nothing but a cage, filled with ghosts and poison.
I packed my things quietly. As I tucked the broken frame of my mother’s painting into my suitcase, my phone buzzed—a message from Lorenzo.
He’d found it. The evidence I’d been desperate for: proof that it was Mateo who orchestrated my parents’ deaths. Documents, bank transfers, and a confession hidden in an old recording.
My parents hadn’t died in an accident as everyone believed. Mateo had paid a mechanic to tamper with their brakes, ensuring their car would crash on the mountain road that night. The recording captured Mateo’s chilling words: “They were too stubborn when they learned that Jaxon was fooling Beatrice. But no, it can't be. We need their chemical company because it would make my company stronger. If they died, Beatrice will inherit everything and marry Jaxon. The company will be ours because Beatrice was easy to fool.”
I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of truth pressing on my chest.
Tears pricked my eyes as I whispered an apology to my parents, my voice trembling in the empty room.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But I promise—I’ll finish this. I’ll make them pay.”
By nightfall, I was gone, checking into a quiet hotel under a different name, clutching the evidence and my grief close. I was done being a prisoner in my own life. This time, I would be ready.
The next morning, my phone buzzed. Jaxon’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated, then answered.
“Where are you?” He demanded. “Are you mad at me because of what happened? I'm sorry, I was just scared the baby would die. You know my trauma because we lost a lot of babies already. Where are your things? Come home, and I have something for you.”
“I just needed some time to clear my mind about everything,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "I was just hurt and missing my parents."
He was silent for a moment, then his frustration bled through. “What about the vaccine formula? The launch is on your birthday, remember? You need to be there! And you need to give it to me as promise, right?”
I almost laughed at his priorities. “Don’t worry, Jaxon. I’ll be there.”
He hung up, not bothering with goodbyes.
I stared at the phone, feeling the weight of the day ahead. My birthday.
The yacht glittered under the morning sun, decorated with banners and flowers, the air thick with expensive perfume and false smiles.
Guests mingled, glasses clinking, laughter rising above the gentle slap of waves. I stepped aboard, dressed in white, my face serene.
Jaxon greeted me with a wide, triumphant smile, his arm around Hannah, who glowed with carefully curated innocence. “Happy birthday, Beatrice,” he said, kissing my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice steady. “You can have it, Jaxon. Claim it as your own. After all, you are my husband. I’m also giving you our company. Everything’s finalized now. You can now present it to them.”
His eyes sparkled with greed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, gathering the crowd, “I present to you the vaccine formula—our greatest achievement, and the future of medical science!”
He launched into his speech, soaking in the glory, promising miracles and breakthroughs. I watched him, knowing every word was built on a lie.
The formula he held was a fake—an elegant, useless imitation. The real one was safe, far from his reach.
The board members nodded, impressed, eager to invest. Jaxon’s smile grew wider, his confidence swelling as he basked in their admiration.
When the presentation ended, he turned to me, eyes shining. “Thank you, Beatrice. This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
I smiled, letting him believe in his victory. “I’m glad you’re happy, Jaxon.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “I have a gift for you, my love. Something unforgettable.”
I saw it then—the glint in his eye, the tightening of his grip on my arm. Just as I had expected, he led me to the edge of the deck, the water below dark and endless.
The guests were distracted, music playing, laughter echoing. No one saw as Jaxon’s hand pressed against my back, his words soft and venomous. “Goodbye, Beatrice. Thank you for your service.”
He pushed me.
For a moment, I felt nothing but air—the cold rush, the dizzying drop, the world spinning out of control. I closed my eyes, surrendering to gravity, to fate, to everything that had brought me here.
But I wasn’t afraid. Lorenzo was out there, waiting, watching. I trusted him. I knew I would be saved.
As the water closed over my head, I let go of everything—pain, betrayal, fear. I was free. Free from Jaxon, from Hannah, from the cage they’d built around me.
I drifted, the world silent and dark, knowing that when I opened my eyes again, everything would be different.
