So, this was it. He was using me to make up for the regret of missing out on Melina all those years ago.
A violent wave of nausea surged up from my stomach, nearly spilling out of my throat.
Seeing my face turn deathly pale, Melina looked satisfied. “Be smart and get lost. I’ve seen plenty of gold-digging women like you. Do you really not understand why Cedric silently allowed me to abort your child? Because a lowly woman like you was never worthy of carrying his child.”
Yvonne's POV
“Oh, right! You should thank me, too,” Melina added casually. “When you were kidnapped, Cedric was actually prepared to let you die in there. If I hadn’t been afraid someone would end up dead and told Cedric to call the police, you’d still be locked up and tortured right now.”
That last sentence burned away the last of my restraint.
Hatred surged through me like a wildfire, devouring every trace of reason.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. The pain brought me a moment of clarity.
“I’ll give you what you want,” I said calmly. “But that child was innocent. Melina, you picked the wrong person to mess with.”
I stood up and walked toward her slowly, gripping her chin between my fingers.
“Since this mouth of yours talks so well,” I said softly, “let’s sew it shut.”
For the first time, panic flashed across Melina’s face.
She struggled violently. “You wouldn’t dare! You’re nothing but an orphan. Cedric won’t let you get away with this!”
I laughed. “Right. I’m an orphan. But does that mean I’m supposed to let you bully me?”
After my father’s affair, I had convinced myself that my only family was my mother.
So, when she passed away, I considered myself an orphan.
My father was a terrible husband, but at least he was still somewhat of a father.
When I was with Cedric, he had secretly called me and told me I could use his influence so that Cedric's grandfather wouldn’t oppose our relationship.
But I had refused.
I never expected that, in the end, I would still have to rely on his power.
Not wanting to waste any more words on her, I stepped aside. The two doctors my father had sent moved forward, needle and thread in hand, and began stitching Melina’s mouth shut.
Blood soaked into her white dress.
Her heart-wrenching screams slowly faded into muffled whimpers.
I had her locked inside the operating room.
“You spent four hours operating on me,” I said coldly. “So, I’ll pay you back double.”