My birth mother wanted me dead.
My birth father never even knew I existed.
My siblings saw me as nothing more than a stain on their name.
But I never thought even the child I raised would come to hate me this much.
A shadow fell over me.
Carlos stood there, his gaze settling on my torn hands, the frozen blood crusting over my fingers. His voice was eerily calm.
“Get up. I hope this finally teaches you a lesson.”
“I’ve already sent a private doctor to your room. Go get your injuries treated.”
I swayed unsteadily as I pushed myself to my feet. Without hesitation, I pulled out the divorce papers once more, pressing my bloodstained fingerprint onto them.
“Since I can leave now, sign them, Mr. Davis.”
He stiffened. A flicker of anger flashed through his eyes before his lips curled into a sneer.
“You’re jealous of Evie and pulled such a cruel stunt, yet I chose to let it go. And you still won’t stop?”
“Fine. I’ll grant your wish. I want to see if you truly have the guts to give up the life of a rich wife.”
His hand moved immediately, scrawling his name across the page before he flung the papers at my feet.
“Dahlia, if you step one foot out of this house today, don’t ever think about coming back.”
I carefully picked up the papers, my gaze lingering on the bold, flowing strokes of his signature. A quiet smile curved my lips.
I was finally free.
Dragging my suitcase behind me, I limped out of the old mansion, each step lighter than the last. No more threats. No more walking on eggshells. From today onward, I will live on my own terms.
I hailed a rental car. The driver asked me where I was headed. I thought for a moment.
“First, the funeral home. Then, the airport.”
