When I opened my eyes, I was in my bed at the estate. For a moment, confusion clouded me.
The last thing I remembered was the rain pouring on me, my body weak and shivering, the ground cold beneath me as Victor’s car disappeared into the night.
“Madam, you should rest,” the maid said softly, adjusting the blanket over me.
I pushed myself up despite the heaviness in my chest. “How did I get here?” My voice trembled. “Who brought me home?”
For a foolish second, I thought maybe it had been Victor. Maybe guilt had finally gnawed at him enough to make him come back for me.
But the maid shook her head gently. “It wasn’t the master. A man—he said he was a stranger—he brought you here and left this number.”
She handed me a folded piece of paper. My fingers shook as I opened it and stared at the digits scrawled there.
A stranger. I dialed before I could think. The line clicked, and a familiar male voice answered, low and steady.
“Hello?”
“Who is this?” I asked, my throat dry. “Why did you help me?”
There was a pause. Then a voice I hadn’t heard in years. “Katie… it’s Nick.”
I froze, the breath sucked out of me. Nick. My childhood friend. My first safe place before everything in my life turned to ruin. And now—Victor’s rival.
Memories flooded in unbidden: summer afternoons, laughter under the trees, his hand always extended toward me whenever I stumbled. And then the bitter years that followed, when Victor entered my life, and everything between Nick and me fractured.
“Nick…” I whispered.
“I heard about what happened,” he said simply. His tone was steady, almost too calm, but I could hear the undercurrent of anger. Not at me, never at me but at Victor. “So tell me, Katie. What do you say about marrying me?”
If this had been any other day, I would have laughed, stammered, told him not to joke about such things. But today when my body ached, my soul was shattered, and my heart was nothing but ashes—his words didn’t feel like a joke. They felt like salvation.
“Fine,” I said, surprising even myself with the sharpness of my voice. “Pick me up after five days.”
And I hung up.
The silence of the room pressed against me. My hands curled into fists.
Five days. That was all I needed. Five days to bury the last of this wretched marriage.
I started packing my things that very night. The clothes, the books, the little pieces of myself I had hidden in corners of the estate.
With each fold, each bag sealed, it felt like I was reclaiming pieces of me Victor had stolen.
Then came the memories. Photographs. Gifts. The wedding album. His letters. I gathered them all and one by one, I fed them to the fire. I watched his smile curl into ashes, his promises turn to smoke.
When I picked up my wedding ring, my hands shook. It was the last chain. I clenched it so tightly it dug into my palm before I finally walked toward the trash bin.
The door burst open. Victor.
“What’s happening here?” His eyes darted to the half-packed luggage, to the faint smoke curling from the fireplace. Then his gaze fell on the ring in my hand.
“Nothing,” I said coldly. “I just want to throw it away.”
His face twisted. “Are you insane? That’s our wedding ring. Why would you throw it away?”
“Because I don’t want it anymore,” I snapped. “Let’s divorce, Victor.”
His eyes widened. “Divorce me? Are you insane? What—do you think I’d agree? Where would you go if you left me, huh? What about your mother? Your kidney transplant? You can’t leave without me. You’re bankrupt!”
“And whose fault is that?” I shot back, my voice breaking with rage. “Felicia! You promised me that you would help me find her but what’s happening now?!”
His jaw tightened, but he reached for me desperately. “I’m sorry, okay? Is this about me not going to the hospital? About missing our anniversary? Don’t—don’t be like this, Katie.” He softened his tone, his eyes pleading. “Come on. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Promises,” I whispered bitterly. “You’ve always been good at those.”
We were cut off by another voice.
“Are you fighting… because of me?”
Victor stiffened. My head turned sharply toward the door.
Felicia.
She stood there, her hands trembling, her face pale. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is wrong. I should have—”
I laughed bitterly, the sound cold even to my own ears. “You dare bring her here?” I looked at Victor, disgust rolling through me. “You dare bring your mistress into my house?”
Victor reached out helplessly. “Katie, she’s not my mistress. Like I said, I’d find her for you. She’s here to apologize, Katie—”
But I didn’t wait for her excuses. Rage boiled through me, spilling past the grief that had been rotting inside me for years. My hands shook as I lunged forward, slamming Felicia back with all the fury I had held in.
“You!” My voice cracked like thunder. “You ruined everything! My father killed himself because of you! My mother wasted away because of what you did! And now you stand here—begging? Crying?!”
Felicia stumbled, her back hitting the dresser. My hand swung before I could stop it, the slap ringing out sharp.
She gasped, stumbling further until her knee struck the corner of the bed. She crumpled down, clutching her side.
A sharp cry escaped her lips. “Victor!” Her hands trembled as she held her stomach, and when she pulled them away, I saw it—red smearing across her palms.
My breath froze.
Victor’s roar shook the walls. “Katie!” He rushed forward, catching Felicia as she collapsed into his arms, her sobs echoing. “She’s bleeding!”
He turned to me then, his eyes blazing with fury I’d never seen before. His hand shot out, shoving me backward so hard I stumbled into the polished floor with a painful crack.
“You dare harm a pregnant woman?!” His voice was venom. “Are you insane?! She’s carrying a child—and you’d attack her?!”
