It all made sense now. The memories, the unanswered questions, the closed doors—all the pieces fit together in a way I never wanted to imagine.

I remembered the night my parents died as if it were etched into my bones. The police had called it a tragic accident, a closed case before I even had time to grieve. I had begged for an investigation, pleaded for someone to look deeper, but every door slammed shut.

Grandpa Mateo had been there for me, always. He would hold my trembling hands and whisper, “Let it go, Beatrice. Some things are better left in the past.”

I had never questioned him. How could I? He had been part of our family for as long as I could remember, always saying I was meant for Jaxon, that our families were destined to unite.

But now—after what I overheard—I saw it all for what it was. Not fate, not destiny. Just manipulation, secrets, and lies.

I needed answers. I needed proof. But in this city, Mateo’s influence was everywhere. The police, the press, even the courts—he owned them all. If I wanted to expose the truth, I needed help from someone outside his reach. Someone with power. Someone with a grudge.

My thoughts spiraled, racing ahead of me, until I was snapped back to reality by the sound of the door opening. Jaxon and Hannah stepped inside, faces painted with concern so perfect it could win awards.

Jaxon’s eyes flickered with a cold calculation, while Hannah’s lips trembled in a performance of worry.

“Beatrice, are you alright?” Hannah asked, her voice sweet and sharp at the edges.

Jaxon stepped closer, his hand hovering near my shoulder. “You look pale. What’s wrong?”

I forced a weak smile, masking the storm inside me. “It’s nothing. I’m just… not feeling well. Probably just exhausted. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Jaxon’s gaze lingered on me, searching for cracks in my composure. “Well, you need to rest. Take a week off, or more, if you need it. Actually, why don’t you give us the formula for the vaccine? Hannah and I can continue the work while you recover. We need to finish by next week or the Blackwell Corporation will beat us. You know how important this is.”

His words hit me like ice water. Blackwell. The name sent a jolt through me. The head of Blackwell was Lorenzo. Jaxon despised him, called him a vulture, a thief. But Lorenzo was also the man who, years ago, offered me a way out—a chance to choose him instead of Jaxon.

I never took it, never even considered it. But now, with my world crumbling around me, maybe Lorenzo was exactly what I needed. Someone outside Mateo’s reach. Someone with a reason to take Jaxon down.

I steadied my voice. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I can go back to work by tomorrow.”

Jaxon’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Alright. If you’re sure. Hannah and I have some business to attend to tonight, so we’ll head out. You rest.”

I nodded, watching them leave, the facade of concern slipping away as soon as the door closed behind them. I waited until the silence settled, then called for my trusted butler, Samuel. He had been with my family for years, loyal beyond measure. If anyone could help me, it was him.

“Samuel,” I whispered, urgency in my voice. “Follow them. Discreetly. I need to know where they go and what they do. Record everything.”

He bowed, understanding without question, and disappeared into the night.

Hours crawled by, each minute heavier than the last. When Samuel returned, he handed me a phone with trembling fingers. Images flickered on the screen—Jaxon and Hannah, arm in arm, entering a hotel.

The next video was worse: grainy footage of them together, lost in each other, no secrets left between them. My heart ached, but my resolve hardened. I would not be their victim anymore.

I started gathering everything—photos, videos, documents. Every lie, every betrayal, every piece of evidence. I called my lawyer, voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.

“I want a divorce,” I said, the words tasting like freedom. “As soon as possible. I’ll be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. Set up the papers.”

He agreed, promising discretion. I knew Jaxon would fight, would try to twist the story, but I had proof now. And I had a plan.

The next morning, I discharged myself, dressing carefully, masking the exhaustion with determination. I drove straight to Lorenzo’s office, heart pounding with every step.

He greeted me with a sly smile, eyes sharp, always calculating. “Beatrice. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Do you still want to marry me?”

His eyebrows lifted, surprise flickering across his face. “Are you serious? You’re still married to Jaxon.”

“I’m divorcing him,” I said, my voice shaking but determined. “I’ve learned he’s been killing my children. He was just using me to get my family’s company. I have proof to bring him down. So, how about you help me?”

Lorenzo’s eyes darkened, a mix of anger and admiration flashing across his face. “If that’s what you want, Beatrice, I’ll help you. See you in two days. Let’s have our wedding.”

I nodded, relief and resolve mingling in my chest. I turned to leave, feeling the first real hope I’d had in years.

When I arrived home, the house was filled with the warm, inviting aroma of dinner. I paused in the doorway, my heart thudding as I saw Jaxon and Hannah in the kitchen, laughter spilling between them.

Jaxon was gently feeding Hannah a bite of something from a spoon, their intimacy on full display.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to sound casual. “What’s happening here?”

Hannah turned to me with a bright, practiced smile. “Oh, he’s letting me taste the food we made for you. Come here, Beatrice… let’s eat, we prepared this for you.”

“I’m actually full,” I said softly, hoping to avoid a scene.

Jaxon’s voice cut through. “Come on, babe, are you really going to do that? Hannah did this for you. Don’t tell me you’re mad at her again for no reason...”

"Jaxon, don't be mad at my best friend. She's just moody at times," Hannah said.

I forced a smile, not wanting to fight, not tonight. I sat down at the table, picking up my fork as Hannah beamed at me, her eyes glittering with something I couldn’t quite name.

The first bite tasted fine, but as I swallowed, a wave of nausea rolled over me. I tried to ignore it, pushing through another mouthful, but my stomach twisted violently.

I dropped my fork, clutching my abdomen as the room spun.

“Beatrice?” Hannah’s voice was syrupy sweet, but I could hear the edge beneath it.

I tried to speak, but bile rose in my throat. I stumbled from the table, rushing to the sink, but it was too late. I vomited, my body wracked with pain. The edges of my vision blurred, darkness creeping in.

Jaxon was suddenly at my side, his hand on my back, concern painted across his face. “Are you alright? Beatrice, what’s wrong?”

But I couldn’t answer. My knees buckled, and the world went black as I fainted, the last thing I heard was Hannah’s voice, low and urgent—

“She’s not supposed to react this fast… but good thing, the baby will die again.”

I woke up to the sterile light of the hospital, the scent of antiseptic sharp in my nose and the weight of loss pressing down on my chest.

The first thing I saw was Jaxon, slumped over the edge of my bed, his shoulders shaking with what looked like honest grief.

For a moment, I almost believed it—almost let myself hope that beneath all the lies, there was a part of him that cared.

He looked up as I stirred, his eyes red and puffy. “Beatrice… Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant again?” His voice cracked, and he reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “They just told me—the doctors said the baby died. Why didn’t you say anything?”

I stared at him, searching his face for any flicker of truth. But I saw only the performance, the rehearsed sorrow.

I knew, deep inside, that he and Hannah were the reason I kept losing my babies. I knew the food last night wasn’t just a coincidence. But I couldn’t let him see that I knew. I couldn't let them know I didn't care anymore. After all, I planned for abortion. They helped me make it easy.

“I was supposed to make it a surprise but it's too late now,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Jaxon wiped his eyes, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, too. For not taking care of you… for everything. Maybe it was the food, maybe I did something wrong. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “This isn’t the first time... and the doctor said I'm really sensitive.”

Hannah appeared in the doorway, her face arranged in a mask of concern. She hurried to my side, patting my arm gently. “Don’t worry, Beatrice… Everything will be okay. You’re strong. Surely, you’ll have a child again.”

Jaxon nodded, glancing at Hannah with a strange glint in his eye. “Actually, Hannah is pregnant. Maybe we can… adopt her baby? That way, we can have a family.”

I felt my stomach churn, rage and disgust swirling inside me.

I turned to Jaxon, my voice icy. “Why would we adopt? What about the father? Are you the father, Jaxon?”

He recoiled, shaking his head emphatically. “No, of course not! Hannah used a sperm donor. It’s all above board.”

Hannah chimed in quickly, her smile brittle. “Yes, just a donor. Nothing more… and you know how I always wanted to have a baby and when they told me I had cured my infertility issues, I decided to have one... Even with not father. I mean, you're there for me, right? And Jaxon...”

I nodded, pretending to accept their story. “Yeah… okay. Congratulations. You both can do whatever you want to do.”

Jaxon brightened instantly, his mood shifting like the flick of a switch. “That’s great news, Beatrice. We can be a happy family together.”

I forced a smile, exhaustion weighing me down. “Let me rest for a while.”

They left me alone. I stared at the ceiling, replaying every word, every lie, every moment that had brought me here.

My body ached with loss, but my mind was sharper than ever. I would not let them destroy me. Not now.

My phone buzzed on the side table. I reached for it, hands trembling, and saw a message from my lawyer: Divorce finalized.

A wave of relief crashed over me, mingled with fear and hope. I was free from Jaxon—at least on paper. But I knew he wouldn’t let me go so easily. Not with the company, not with the secrets I carried.

Later that day, I left the hospital. I went straight to the church, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread. Lorenzo was waiting for me, dressed in a simple suit, his eyes alive with determination.

He took my hands in his, his touch gentle but firm. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, my voice steady. “Yes. I need you, Lorenzo. Not just for me, but for justice. For all the things they’ve done. Help me bring them down and you can demand anything fro me.”

The ceremony was brief, almost surreal. I barely registered the words, the vows, the ring on my finger.

All I could think about was survival, about the fight ahead.

When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, I felt something shift inside me—a new beginning, a new chance.

Afterwards, we sat together in the quiet of the church, the stained glass casting colored shadows across our faces.

I looked at Lorenzo, my new husband, and spoke the words I’d been holding deep inside.

“They’re planning to kill me on my birthday,” I said, my voice trembling but clear. “Jaxon and Hannah—they want to take me out on the yacht. I’m terrified of water. They want to push me overboard and make it look like an accident. I overheard everything. I would still come though because I’m not yet done with them, so save me.”

Lorenzo’s hand tightened around mine. “I’ll be there. I promise. We’ll be ready.”

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of dread and defiance. Then I went home, bracing myself for whatever performance Jaxon and Hannah had prepared.

The moment I stepped into the house, I found Hannah in the hallway, dragging suitcases and boxes. Jaxon stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Oh, Beatrice,” Jaxon said, not bothering to hide the coldness in his voice, “Hannah will use our room now. She likes the view and the sunlight. She’ll be here so we can take care of her and her baby. Just use the guest room for now.”

I forced a smile, swallowing the bitterness. “Okay.”

Hannah flashed me a bright, insincere grin. “Oh, thank you, my best friend. You’re really the best!”

I just smiled, holding back everything I wanted to say.

Later, as Hannah continued unpacking, I heard a crash from the bedroom. I rushed in to find her standing over a shattered painting—the one my mother had given me, the last gift before she died. The frame splintered, glass everywhere, the canvas torn.

Hannah looked up, feigning surprise. “Oops! I’m so sorry, Beatrice. I guess I’m just clumsy today.”

But I saw the satisfaction flicker across her face, the deliberate malice in her eyes. Rage surged through me, hot and uncontrollable. She knew how important it was to me!

I stepped forward and shoved her, harder than I meant to, the years of betrayal boiling over.

Hannah stumbled back, but before anything else could happen, Jaxon stormed in, his face twisted with fury.

He didn’t hesitate—his hand shot out, and he slapped me across the face, the crack echoing through the room.

“Are you insane?” he shouted, eyes blazing. “Are you trying to kill her baby because you can’t have one? God, I knew it! You were always jealous of Hannah!”

For a moment, the room was thick with accusation and tension. Hannah, ever the actress, wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “No, it’s my fault, Jaxon. I ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have touched it. Please, don't hurt my best friend.”

Jaxon softened, but only slightly, turning his concern to her.

“Even so, you have to understand the danger of pushing Hannah. You lost a lot of babies, Beatrice… and maybe this is the reason why? Because you’re not fit to become a mother when you can’t even take care of another’s baby.”

Without another word, they left me standing there—alone with the shards of my mother’s painting and the echo of Jaxon’s slap.

I could only laugh, a hollow, bitter sound that bounced off the walls. Let them go. Let them have their empty comfort and their lies.

I knelt down, gathering the broken pieces of the painting.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I tried to piece it together.

For a moment, I allowed myself to grieve, not just for the painting, but for everything I’d lost: my parents, my children, my marriage, my sense of safety.

But grief couldn’t hold me forever. I wiped my tears and stood, resolve hardening inside me.

I wouldn’t stay here any longer. This house was nothing but a cage, filled with ghosts and poison.

I packed my things quietly. As I tucked the broken frame of my mother’s painting into my suitcase, my phone buzzed—a message from Lorenzo.

He’d found it. The evidence I’d been desperate for: proof that it was Mateo who orchestrated my parents’ deaths. Documents, bank transfers, and a confession hidden in an old recording.

My parents hadn’t died in an accident as everyone believed. Mateo had paid a mechanic to tamper with their brakes, ensuring their car would crash on the mountain road that night. The recording captured Mateo’s chilling words: “They were too stubborn when they learned that Jaxon was fooling Beatrice. But no, it can't be. We need their chemical company because it would make my company stronger. If they died, Beatrice will inherit everything and marry Jaxon. The company will be ours because Beatrice was easy to fool.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of truth pressing on my chest.

Tears pricked my eyes as I whispered an apology to my parents, my voice trembling in the empty room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. But I promise—I’ll finish this. I’ll make them pay.”

By nightfall, I was gone, checking into a quiet hotel under a different name, clutching the evidence and my grief close. I was done being a prisoner in my own life. This time, I would be ready.

The next morning, my phone buzzed. Jaxon’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated, then answered.

“Where are you?” He demanded. “Are you mad at me because of what happened? I'm sorry, I was just scared the baby would die. You know my trauma because we lost a lot of babies already. Where are your things? Come home, and I have something for you.”

“I just needed some time to clear my mind about everything,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "I was just hurt and missing my parents."

He was silent for a moment, then his frustration bled through. “What about the vaccine formula? The launch is on your birthday, remember? You need to be there! And you need to give it to me as promise, right?”

I almost laughed at his priorities. “Don’t worry, Jaxon. I’ll be there.”

He hung up, not bothering with goodbyes.

I stared at the phone, feeling the weight of the day ahead. My birthday.

The yacht glittered under the morning sun, decorated with banners and flowers, the air thick with expensive perfume and false smiles.

Guests mingled, glasses clinking, laughter rising above the gentle slap of waves. I stepped aboard, dressed in white, my face serene.

Jaxon greeted me with a wide, triumphant smile, his arm around Hannah, who glowed with carefully curated innocence. “Happy birthday, Beatrice,” he said, kissing my cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my voice steady. “You can have it, Jaxon. Claim it as your own. After all, you are my husband. I’m also giving you our company. Everything’s finalized now. You can now present it to them.”

His eyes sparkled with greed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, gathering the crowd, “I present to you the vaccine formula—our greatest achievement, and the future of medical science!”

He launched into his speech, soaking in the glory, promising miracles and breakthroughs. I watched him, knowing every word was built on a lie.

The formula he held was a fake—an elegant, useless imitation. The real one was safe, far from his reach.

The board members nodded, impressed, eager to invest. Jaxon’s smile grew wider, his confidence swelling as he basked in their admiration.

When the presentation ended, he turned to me, eyes shining. “Thank you, Beatrice. This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

I smiled, letting him believe in his victory. “I’m glad you’re happy, Jaxon.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “I have a gift for you, my love. Something unforgettable.”

I saw it then—the glint in his eye, the tightening of his grip on my arm. Just as I had expected, he led me to the edge of the deck, the water below dark and endless.

The guests were distracted, music playing, laughter echoing. No one saw as Jaxon’s hand pressed against my back, his words soft and venomous. “Goodbye, Beatrice. Thank you for your service.”

He pushed me.

For a moment, I felt nothing but air—the cold rush, the dizzying drop, the world spinning out of control. I closed my eyes, surrendering to gravity, to fate, to everything that had brought me here.

But I wasn’t afraid. Lorenzo was out there, waiting, watching. I trusted him. I knew I would be saved.

As the water closed over my head, I let go of everything—pain, betrayal, fear. I was free. Free from Jaxon, from Hannah, from the cage they’d built around me.

I drifted, the world silent and dark, knowing that when I opened my eyes again, everything would be different.