“Who is Caleb Dalton to you, anyway?” Alaric’s voice cracked slightly. Caleb—the man who killed Seraphine. I’d said it so many times before, but I repeated it calmly. “I have nothing to do with him.”
His bloodshot eyes burned into mine. “You expect me to believe that? You’d protect Seraphine’s murderer for someone you don’t even care about?”
I met his gaze. “Alaric, you’ll understand everything the day the child is born.”
“I can’t wait another day!” He shot to his feet, hands shaking. “If you don’t explain yourself clearly today, Elysia, I’ll end all ties with you.”
My heart clenched. He meant it. There was no hesitation in his eyes. I drew in a breath, then nodded. “Alright.”
We’d been through enough. I was done.
His hand trembled where it gripped my shoulder. “Say it again.”
“It’s okay if we break up,” I said.
He laughed bitterly, like he couldn’t believe it. “You think I’m joking?”
I said nothing.
He turned and slammed the door behind him. That night, the divorce agreement landed in front of me.
I picked up the pen to sign, but his hand caught my wrist. “Think it over before you sign.”
“I already have.”
I signed slowly, and though his grip remained firm, he too began writing. When it was done, he snatched the agreement like he couldn’t bear to see it. “I misjudged you.”
I closed my eyes.
That day, I was thrown out of the manor. With no savings, I rented a small, thirty-square-meter apartment and waited quietly for my trial. In my mind, I kept imagining Caleb being brought to justice on the day I died. My hands trembled with the thought. Only then, I thought, could I finally go see Seraphine in peace.
But that moment never came.
Before I could even prepare, Alaric’s bodyguards dragged me back. The first thing I saw was Arianne lying on the bed, soaked in blood. Her stomach, once swollen, had gone flat. Alaric looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
The moment he saw me, he slapped me across the face. “Didn’t you say it didn’t matter if the child was aborted? That it was acceptable either way? Then why did you send someone to beat her into a miscarriage?”
I was stunned.
Arianne sobbed, clutching the sheets. “Ely… if you didn’t want me to have the baby, I could’ve aborted it. But why torture my child like this?”
Her clothes were disheveled, the bed stained in blood. I understood what had likely caused the miscarriage.