Lilith's POV
“You home-wrecking bitch! You killed my child! I wish you a miserable death!”
I didn’t respond right away. I just watched her crying and screaming, her grief pouring out like blood.
And for a moment, it felt like I was looking at myself back then, the me who had lost my mother and uncles.
But there was a difference. Aurora knew exactly who to blame. She knew who to cry at, who to curse.
That day by the river, I had only been able to kneel beside a dozen corpses, drowning in silence, not even knowing where to pour my hatred or who to demand justice from.
Ten years.
In those ten years, I lost a leg for Sebastian, I carved the birthmark from my skin, my body was nothing but scars, and I’ve long forgotten what tears even taste like.
But Aurora provoked me, lost a child, and yet, she had someone to fight her battles, someone to comfort her.
“Sebastian.” I tore the divorce papers in my hand into shreds and laughed. “I’ve changed my mind. You're right. Between you and me, there will only ever be death, not divorce.”
After I said that, I turned to leave.
“Bitch! Come back here!” Aurora shrieked behind me.
From that moment on, I never mentioned divorce to Sebastian again.
But Aurora couldn’t let it go.
She barged into my office one day and swept all my confidential files off my desk. Afterward, she pointed a dagger straight at me.
“Are you divorcing him or not? If not, I’ll kill you right here!”
But the dagger slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
Seizing that chance, I pressed my prosthetic against her face, towering over her.
“What, Sebastian never taught you properly? Even with one prosthetic, I can put you down. And you had the guts to come at me alone?”
“Lilith.” A voice came from behind me.
Instantly, Aurora straightened, spine stiffening. “Let me go, bitch! Or else my Sebastian—”
My hand cracked across her face.
But before her tears could even fall, another slap landed, and this time, across mine.
I froze in shock, and right then, a sharp kick struck my prosthetic, causing my left knee to give out and me to collapse in front of Aurora.
He stood over me, holding her in his arms.
I tilted my head back, my eyes burning red at the corners. “You raised a hand against me?”
For a moment, he stayed silent.
When he finally spoke, his voice was weary. “Since it has come to this, let’s divorce.”
But I only laughed.
So much for together in life and death, so much for our vow to share one grave, and all it took was Aurora’s tears to erase it.
Gripping the desk, I forced myself to stand.
Our gazes met, cold and sharp as blades.
“It's impossible,” I replied.
He handed Aurora off to his men, then leaned down to me. “Lilith, you know me more than anyone. I’m best at making the impossible possible.”
Yes, like how he found the ones who had wiped out my family, like how he survived after losing a leg, like how he fought through fire to carry me out alive when I lost my leg for him.
And now, he wanted to make our divorce possible.
I bit down, forcing a smile. “And if I refuse no matter what?”
“Then we fight,” he said, his voice stripped of warmth. His eyes were hard, unyielding. “Lilith, I’ll hunt you for the rest of my life.”
The office fell into dead silence, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
But I broke it with a soft laugh. “Fine. Then I’ll give you what you want.”
Surprise flickered across his face.
I only ever give people three chances. And I had already broken that rule.
With nothing else to reply, he simply said, “Thank you.”
As such, he wrapped an arm around Aurora’s waist and walked her toward the door.
But when the door opened, a black muzzle was already aimed at his forehead.
I leaned back in my chair, my voice calm, almost bored. “You didn’t actually take me seriously, did you?”
He turned his head slowly.
I tilted my chin up, eyes cold. “Mr. Crowe, in our marriage, there is no divorce, only death.”
The office door clicked shut, but even with the best soundproofing, nothing could hide what was happening inside.
Sebastian pressed a gun to my temple. Strangely, I wasn’t afraid of the weapon. What unsettled me was the gold necklace in his hand. It was what my mother left me, the one I fished out of that river of blood. He knew I treasured it more than my own life.
“Divorce or this?” he asked, holding the pendant out the window.
Taking a deep breath, I answered, “Fine. I'll divorce you.”
That was enough for Aurora. She smiled at last and glided toward the door. Just before leaving, she slipped a folded scrap of paper into my palm. Leaning close, she whispered, almost playfully, “I know what you’re desperate to find out. I’ll be generous and tell you who I am. Read it after I’m gone.”
The door then shut behind her.
As I unfolded the note, my fingers shook, then the words cut into me like glass.
