His tone was calm, even a bit gentle. “I can’t watch you keep making mistakes. Thankfully, Lynzee’s fine, but you still owe her an apology.”
A chill swept over me, settling deep into my bones. The next second, my belly twisted painfully.
“Let me go!” I shouted. “The child in her belly is yours. Even if she loses it, it’s no loss—it’s a cursed child! I will never, ever apologize!”
His eyes turned to ice. Without warning, his hand lashed out across my face.
“If you won’t apologize, then you’ll kneel in the villa until Lynzee is willing to forgive you.”
He shoved me toward the bodyguards behind him, and then he walked away without looking back.
I was pinned in place, my voice raw as I shouted after him.
“Ridley! I will never forgive you!”
He paused for a heartbeat—just long enough for me to think he might turn around.
But in the end, he kept walking, disappearing from sight.
Agnes’s POV
I was escorted back to the villa and forced to kneel for an entire day.
It wasn’t until the next morning that they finally let me go.
Four days remained before the time I had agreed to meet my brother. Still, I already began quietly packing my things.
Over the next two days, Ridley didn’t come home. He didn’t send a single message either.
But Lynzee? She was suddenly everywhere on my phone.
[You’ve never seen this side of him before, have you? Oh, by the way, because of what happened, he’s decided we’ll get our marriage license in three days. I’ll be sure to send you the invitation. Don’t forget to come!]
Attached was a photo of Ridley cooking for her.
After reading the messages, my expression didn’t change.
I simply gathered the recipe collections and soup formulas I had spent the past ten years compiling for him. I burned them all to ash.
While Ridley took Lynzee out on a yacht.
I shattered the clay figurines we had once made together.
Ridley bought Lynzee an aerial garden.
I dug up the rose garden he had planted for me, roots and all, and burned it to the ground.
Ridley posed for a family portrait with Lynzee and their son.
I took the ten photo albums Ridley had once saved for us, cut them to pieces, burned them, and buried the ashes—along with our wedding portrait—beneath the garden soil.
In just a few short days, I had erased every trace of the past ten years.
Even the villa’s interior felt hollow and empty.