His bodyguards moved in swiftly, dragging me away without a second glance, their grip tight and unyielding. No mercy. No room for dignity. I struggled uselessly, but they shoved me back home, paint still dripping from my body as if the world had forgotten my humanity.
Cohen’s voice echoed in my ears, the final blow. “You need to be punished. To reflect on your actions.”
The bodyguards shoved me onto the doorstep, pressing me to the ground with unyielding force. Cohen’s voice rang out, cold and commanding.
“Make her kneel here. Let her think about what she’s done. If she’s unwell or the baby can’t handle it, have the doctor watch her. She stays down until she understands her mistake.”
I didn’t fight back. I knelt, my spine stiff as if made of steel, my body anchored at the threshold of the house.
The housekeeper, who had watched me grow up, couldn’t bear the sight of me like this. She approached, her voice soft and concerned. “Don’t be so stubborn, just apologize to Cohen, it’s not worth this.”
She didn’t understand. This wasn’t about being stubborn with Cohen. It was about holding on to the last shred of dignity I had left.