“She’s clearly unstable.”
“No wonder he never loved her.”
“I heard their child isn’t even his. She’s unfaithful.”
Marina’s sobbing made her appear delicate, innocent, adored. And there I was—the monster. Always the villain.
Tears blurred my vision, but I forced words past my lips. “Then divorce me! I’m done with this sham of a marriage. I don’t want to be your wife anymore!”
Dominic’s laugh was cold, venomous. “You’re pathetic, desperate, insane. First, you stage a fake kidnapping for attention, and now this pitiful display? You should win awards, Vivienne, for acting.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out papers, flinging them at my feet like garbage. “Here. Isn’t this what you’ve been begging for?”
I bent, trembling, to gather them. But before my hands could close around the sheets, he swooped down and snatched them away, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
“You really thought I’d make it that easy?” he spat. “You will serve me another week before I sign this. Until then, you’re mine.”
He waved the papers like a leash, and then turned, sliding an arm around Marina’s shoulders. Together they walked away, and the world seemed to confirm it: she was the cherished wife, I was nothing beneath his feet.
The crowd’s eyes never left me—disgusted, condemning. My hands shook as I forced myself upright, legs weak, heart crushed.
I dragged myself down the hall until I reached my son’s room. The door closed behind me. My forehead pressed against the wood as sobs wracked me, chest aching from the force of it.
“Well then, Dominic,” I whispered through tears and trembling lips, a promise coated in blood and fire. “By this week, I will no longer be yours.”
---
Three days later, I finally brought Ethan home. He was still pale, fragile, weakened by trauma—but alive. If I could, I would have never set foot in that house again. But I had no choice. I needed my mother’s heirlooms, a few of Ethan’s things, and some personal belongings I couldn’t leave behind.
The door swung open, and my breath caught. Marina stood in the center of the living room, regal, untouchable. Asher sprawled across the couch, laughter spilling from him like he owned the world.
Ethan’s small voice quivered beside me. “Mama… why is Asher here?”
Before I could answer, Asher’s smug grin stretched across his face. “Because this is my house now. I’m the true son. You’re… just a bastard.”