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.