Chapter 7 Close to Freedom

Christine's P.O.V.

"While you were out celebrating your newfound fatherhood with Yvette, your own father's condition worsened," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. Empty. Broken. Corrupted. The way Elliot's gaze darkened told me he had noticed the change in me too. "I wasn't surprised that you abandoned me for Yvette—I've long since grown used to that. But turning your back on your own father for her? I never thought you could be that selfish. After all, he was always good to you. Unlike you, he actually had a heart."

His jaw tightened. He swallowed his rage, just as he always did, keeping himself in check. He never wanted me to have a piece of him—not his love, not even his anger.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Yvette and I—"

"You don't?" I scoffed, scrolling through my phone. "That's surprising. Your little outing was all over the news."

I held up my phone, swiping through the images of his betrayal.

"Let me find the video of you discovering you're a father. That was my favorite part," I sneered. "Although I'd rather not watch it in front of the kids. I wouldn't want them to remember how their father couldn't even be bothered to visit them at the hospital when they were born. But I'm sure you were thrilled about your bastard son."

"Christine!" he growled through clenched teeth, his fists tightening. "Don't talk to me like that."

I didn't care. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to see him drown in misery, to regret every terrible choice he'd ever made. I wanted to see the great, feared Elliot Manning—the ruthless businessman—reduced to nothing. He would never forget me. He would never forget my words.

"You know what? It's not even his fault," I continued, my tone sharp as a blade. "His mother is a gold-digging whore, and his father is a complete idiot who can't see when he's being manipulated. Let's hope little Martin takes after his mother—God forbid he inherits your stupidity."

The way his teeth ground together sent a thrill through me. I smiled.

"Sign the divorce papers. I know you want to. You can't move forward with Yvette as long as you're still married to me," I taunted. "Were you holding off because of your father's health? Well, that excuse is gone now. You chose to break his heart in an entirely different way. Honestly, I think this betrayal has hurt him more than a divorce ever could. If he collapsed again, it was because of you. Congratulations, Elliot."

I had never been this cruel before. If I had the strength, I would have hit him. But that wouldn't have been enough—I wanted to watch him fall.

For a long moment, we stared at each other in silence. Then, Jemma placed the document and a pen in my outstretched hand.

"Mrs. Manning?"

A doctor's voice interrupted the standoff as he approached cautiously.

"Not for much longer," I muttered, tearing my gaze away from Elliot's.

"Are you Mr. Manning?"

"Yes. How is my father?" Elliot asked, turning his back on me.

The doctor's silence made my stomach sink. When I looked at him, I saw the slight shake of his head and the downcast gaze. My heart shattered before he even said the words.

"I'm sorry. He just passed away."

The world froze.

I hadn't thought it would actually happen. I knew he was sick. I knew he was getting worse. But some part of me had refused to accept that he could die—as if that possibility had never been real until now.

I turned to Elliot. His shoulders had dropped, his face pale. I had blamed him for his father's decline, and though I hadn't spoken a single lie, I couldn't begin to imagine the weight of that guilt pressing down on him now.

The doctor mumbled his condolences before stepping away, giving us space.

I lifted my hand, hesitating. Should I rest it on Elliot's shoulder? Offer him some kind of comfort? But before I could decide, Jemma cleared her throat, drawing my attention toward the entrance.

There she was.

Yvette. Dressed in an elegant, short dress, her long legs on full display as she searched for her man.

I let my hand fall.

Instead, I reached for the divorce papers, holding them out to Elliot.

"Let's end this," I said quietly. "You're not obligated to keep up this farce anymore."

Finally, he took the documents. He flipped through them numbly, his mind still reeling.

"In the annex, I've stated that I don't want anything from you," I continued, my voice steady. "No money. No child support. Nothing. I only want my children. That's all. Now, you can finally have the family you always wanted. You don't have to worry about the triplets you never loved. Just like I put three nails in your coffin, I'm pulling them out and giving you back your life."

His eyes darkened, the guilt slowly eating away at him.

I had once wanted to be there when karma came for him. But now? I didn't care.

Robert Manning had been a good man. He hadn't deserved a son like Elliot.

"Just sign it," I whispered, holding the pen out to him.

Elliot took it.

Our eyes met one last time. My heart pounded, but not because of his nearness or his gaze, but because I was so close to freedom.