Back in the private room, I gathered my things quietly, preparing to slip out without another word.
Damian rose and stepped in front of me.
“Wait a moment,” he murmured, his tone low. “I’ll drive you home later.”
Before I could answer, Aurora appeared from the hallway, breathless and wide-eyed, perfectly timed to steal the room’s attention.
“What’s wrong?” Damian asked immediately, his eyes flicking from me to her.
Aurora rifled through her purse, then patted her coat pockets frantically, her panic growing by the second.
“My bracelet! The custom one you gave me—it’s gone!”
The moment she gasped, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Chairs scraped back, eyes widened, and the energy became electric, rehearsed almost.
“It was a birthday gift from Damian!” Aurora cried, clutching her chest for dramatic effect. “Ten million dollars, custom-made, irreplaceable!”
She began pacing the room, checking under napkins, handbags, around the floor, every movement exaggerated and deliberate.
I didn’t need to think twice. This was a setup. Another spectacle. Another opportunity for her to humiliate me.
I quietly lifted my purse and moved toward the door, intent on escaping the poisoned room.
But she intercepted me.
Aurora stepped in front, her heels clicking on the floor, faux concern plastered across her face.
“Cassandra, would you mind if I checked your bag? Just to be sure. Otherwise, you know how people gossip.”
I looked her dead in the eyes.
“I didn’t take your bracelet. I’m too exhausted to deal with your theater, Ms. Blake.”
I stepped forward, but she grabbed my bag. The strap snapped in the struggle, and the contents spilled across the floor—lip balm, coins, tissues… and the unmistakable glittering bracelet.
Silence fell.
The room’s air thickened, heavy with accusation. I stared at the bracelet as though it were a ghost.
I hadn’t touched it. I hadn’t even been near her things.
Yet Aurora gave me that smug, deliberate look.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
She clutched her chest as if I had personally betrayed her.
“Oh, Cassandra… I trusted you. I thought maybe prison would change you. But clearly, it hasn’t!”
My breath hitched as I scanned the room. All eyes were on me—judgmental, uncomfortable, suspicious.
And then I looked at Damian. His expression gutted me. Disgust. Disbelief. A cold twist of the lips.
“I didn’t take it,” I said, my voice trembling. “Damian, you know I didn’t.”
He didn’t blink.
Aurora sniffled, holding the bracelet to her chest like a sacred relic.
“This means so much to me,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t believe someone would stoop this low. I… I can’t keep working in the same building as her.”
The senior partner stood abruptly.
“That’s it, Mr. Alonzo. This ends here. I won’t be involved with theft and scandal.”
He and his team stormed out.
Nate’s voice followed—sharp, loud, precise, meant to wound.
“Unbelievable. First you kill someone, now you steal?” He shook his head with contempt. “This is why I never wanted you back. You’re a stain, Mom. I’m ashamed to share your last name.”
His words cut deeper than the slap that followed.
Because when I turned to Damian—hoping, praying, for a flicker of disbelief—he struck me.
Across my cheek. A sting, humiliation, a ringing in my ears.
His voice was low, cold, steady.
“I brought you here hoping you’d at least pretend to have some decency left.”
Nate continued mercilessly.
“Aurora warned me you’d drag us down again. Aria doesn’t need a grandmother like you. I don’t need a mother like you. Honestly? I wish you’d stayed in prison.”
I looked at him—the child I had raised, the boy I had believed in.
And in that instant, he was a stranger.
“Have you forgotten why I went to prison?” I asked quietly, glancing at Damian.
“Forgotten that I took those years for you?”
He turned away, like my words were static.
“I should’ve known you’d embarrass me again,” he muttered.
My hands shook as I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out my phone, and held it toward him.
“Then call the police.”
Damian stared at it as though it were venom. But he didn’t take it. Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, he scoffed, turning to Aurora. He clipped the bracelet back on her wrist with tender care, murmuring something reassuring. Then, hand on her lower back, he guided her toward the exit—as if I’d never existed.
I was left alone in the private room. Silence, shame, and the remnants of a life I’d already released surrounded me.
I gathered my scattered belongings, shoved them into my coat, and walked out. I didn’t go home. I went straight to the airport.
---
By midnight at the terminal, I sat by the gate, coat wrapped tight, fingers hovering over my phone. I was halfway through drafting my resignation when a notification lit the screen:
Damian Alonzo — Termination Notice
“Don’t return to the company. Stay home and reflect on what you’ve done.”
I laughed, dry and bitter, startling the woman next to me.
Scrolling through my gallery, I found the photo of his signature on our divorce papers and sent it to him. Then I typed:
“Damian, I sincerely wish you and Aurora a long, happy, public marriage. But let’s finalize the divorce soon. Otherwise, I’ll pursue legal action for bigamy.”
Within seconds, my phone erupted—ten, fifteen, twenty calls, all from him.
Too late.
I was done.
