“Call the doctor!” he shouted. “Hurry up!”
I stood there, numb, as he paced outside the emergency treatment room, wringing his hands.
Suddenly, he turned on me.
“Why did you push her?!”
I blinked, stunned.
“She’s over a month pregnant! Did you know that and still choose to hurt her?!”
I looked at him, then at Arianne lying inside the room.
Her brows were barely furrowed. She looked more bored than in pain.
But her wails were loud and piercing, echoing off the walls.
She turned her face slightly and shot me a warning glance.
And I—
I smiled.
“Yes,” I said, calmly. “So what if I did?”
Alaric’s expression collapsed.
He stared at me, like he no longer recognized the woman in front of him.
“Do you even know what you’re saying?”
I looked him dead in the eyes.
“I do.”
“Don’t you plan to explain yourself?” Alaric asked coldly.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I replied.
“If you admit it, I’ll charge you with intentional injury.”
I froze, staring at him in disbelief.
He met my gaze without flinching.
“Or…” he continued, his voice tightening, “tell me the truth about my sister’s death, and I’ll drop everything.”
I turned slightly to glance at Arianne.
Then I took a deep breath. “You’ll find out eventually.”
A flicker of hope lit his eyes.
“But not now.”
My shoulders stiffened. His face darkened, eyes burning red.
“What’s your relationship with that murderer? You’d rather go to prison than turn him in?”
“I’ve told you already, Alaric. I have nothing to do with him.”
He was trembling with rage now, so furious he could barely form words.
He ground his teeth and nodded slowly.
“You really think I won’t sue you?”
I didn’t reply.
He shoved me aside and stormed out.
Three days later, I received a court summons.
When I pleaded guilty, Arianne arched a brow, clearly unsurprised—like she’d known it would end this way all along.
Only Alaric’s face was pale and terrifyingly grim.
He had hired one of the city’s top attorneys. The lawyer dissected every moment of the incident, stretched the legal jargon to its limits, and twisted my silence into malice.
In the end, they raised the sentence to eight years.
Alaric visited me in custody.
“If you testify for Seraphine,” he said, voice low, “I’ll find a way to get you out.”
I smiled faintly. “Alaric, take care.”
His breath hitched.
For a second, he looked like a broken man.