I didn’t scream. I couldn’t. The pain in my throat was raw from earlier cries that had gone unanswered. My body had reached a state beyond exhaustion.
But something in my heart cracked open.
He didn’t know the truth.
It was me who had saved him once, not her. Me who had stood by him when everyone else disappeared. And now he was willing to kill me for a lie.
He had chosen his past.
And I was just the disposable present.
But this wasn't the end. Not for me.
The tight bindings around my wrists were finally undone. My arms dropped lifelessly to my sides, numb and burning from the prolonged strain. As soon as the ropes released their cruel grip, my knees gave out and I crumpled onto the icy marble floor, unable to hold myself up.
It wasn’t kindness that freed me—just the butler’s conscience or maybe his pity that finally won out after endless pleading. Still, the damage was done. My strength was gone, my voice hoarse from sobs that had long since gone dry. I curled inward, instinctively cradling my swollen belly with what little energy I had left. My baby was alive. That was all that mattered.