I didn’t go home immediately, although I should have. But after the scene at the Grand Royale—after Derrick’s cold dismissal and the cameras that caught every shred of my humiliation—I stumbled into the first outlet I saw.
It was dim, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey. I slid into a corner booth, my prison-issued gown still clinging to me, and ordered the strongest drink they had. The bartender eyed me as if I was diseased, but he brought the glass anyway. The liquid burned down my throat like liquid fire, but the pain was good. It drowned out the echo of Derrick’s voice in the hall when he shouted for them to drag me out. It numbed me and made me relax. But the sudden mumblings around me makes my chest swell. “She’s the one, isn’t she? The ex-con who barged into the wedding?” Someone whispered. “Yeah, that’s her. Derrick Williams’ first mistake. Can you believe she still calls herself his wife?” someone else replied. “She should’ve stayed locked up. No shame. She actually thought he’d wait for her? Oh please! Derrick should better divorce her already.” “Divorce or not? She stands no chance against Florida. If she dares to fight Florida, then she’s up for a fight against us! Shameless thing.” Their sneers, scorns, and laughter was low and cruel. My fingers grip tight to my glass and I wish to the heavens, it’s their throat. My chest burn… excruciatingly. I wanted to stand and scream that they didn’t know me, that I wasn’t the thief they thought I was. But what good would it do? The world had already judged me and I was found guilty. Still, their mumbles festered inside me until I couldn’t bear it for another second. I stood up and slammed the empty glass on the table. Then I tossed a crumpled note toward the bartender, and stormed out. The evening air was sharp and heavy with the scent of rain. I have always loved rain and this was supposed to calm me down. But instead, my chest rose and fell as I tried to breathe past the rage clawing in my chest. Standing by the roadside, trying to fight the anger and the tears in my eyes, I decided to go back to my mansion. It had been five years since I’d seen it. And even though the thought of going back made my skin crawl, another part of me—the part that still bled from his betrayal—needed to. So I hailed another cab, ignoring the driver’s wary glance at my clothes, and gave him the address that I knew too well. When the gates finally came into view, my heart clenched. The mansion is as pristine as ever. Its white stone walls gleamed beneath the evening sun, and its iron gates sparkled like gold. The guards at the entrance stiffened when they saw me, but I flashed them the same look I used to give years ago—the look that told them I belonged here. Whether or not it was true anymore, I didn’t care. But they let me in. And when I finally entered the living room, my eyes took it all in as nostalgia threatened to make me cry. The velvet couches were still in place, the grand chandelier still glittered above, and the family portraits still lined the walls. But my eyes went straight to one thing: the long, beige couch near the window and I froze. I remembered sitting there, trembling, when Derrick dropped to his knees before me. His hands had clutched mine, his eyes wet with desperation. “Natasha,” he had whispered. “Please. I need you to do this for me.” He had confessed that the embezzlement was his doing. That he had siphoned money from his father’s company, thinking he could return it before anyone noticed. But his father had found out. And Derrick, perfect golden boy Derrick, couldn’t bear the thought of being disowned. He couldn’t lose his birthright, his throne, and his father’s empire. So he begged me to take the fall. “Just for a little while,” he promised. “You won’t go to prison. I’ll fix it before it gets that far. I swear, Natasha. I swear on my life.” I remembered the way his lips trembled as he said it, the way his tears stained my dress. I remembered believing him, because I loved him more than I loved myself. And I remembered how he didn't keep his promise. I remembered the courtroom, and the moment the judge sentenced me to prison. Derek visited in prison, pleading, “I'm so sorry, Natasha. You know how powerful my father is. I couldn't go against him.” And I believed him, because I knew how much his father hated me. And now, it's been five long years. My heart twisted as I stared at that couch. That was where everything started. I turned away, my throat tight as I forced myself not to cry, and that’s when I heard footsteps echoing against the marble. I turned around and my breath caught. “Diamond?” Derrick’s younger sister stood in the doorway, a pale sweater around her slim frame, and she stared at me with wide eyes. She was older now, more refined, but I would’ve known her anywhere. “Natasha?” I nodded slowly, unsure of how she would react. Diamond had always been fond of me before I went to prison. But five years was a long time. Allegiances could change. “Why aren’t you at the wedding?” I drawl out carefully, giving her a skeptic stare. Diamond blinked, then scoff. “Because I can’t stand being a part of my brother’s betrayal!” Her word doesn’t just stun me, but It feels like every wounded part of me just got healed up by what she said. Then she sniffed, “Also, someone had to watch my niece. She’s been sick for a while now.” My knees nearly buckled. Her niece… My daughter. Rose. I hadn’t let myself think of her in prison. It would’ve broken me. The memory of her tiny fingers curled around mine, her baby-soft scent, the way her eyes mirrored Derrick’s—it was too much to carry behind bars. So I buried it, locked it away, told myself I would see her again when freedom came. And now freedom was here. “Take me to her," My voice comes out hoarse and Diamond nodded. “Give me a minute to grab some things. She's at the hospital." My legs couldn't hold me up anymore, so I staggered onto the couch as Diamond went upstairs. Five years were stolen from me. Five years of her first words, her first steps, and her laughter were gone. All because of Derrick!The first thing I noticed was the ceiling.It wasn’t the hospital’s ceiling, or the painted one of Derrick’s mansion, or the cracked plaster of the prison I had spent five years staring at. It was white, clean, with faint patterns in the corners that looked expensive.My head throbbed and my throat burned. For a long moment, I couldn’t move. I didn’t even know where I was. The last memory I had was a bar. So where was I?I sat up too fast, my head spinning as the door opened.A man stepped in with a tray that had toast, eggs and a glass of juice on it. As he set it in my lap, my eyes went to his face and I froze.No. It couldn’t be.“Spencer?” My voice was barely a whisper.He smiled faintly—that same crooked smile I had once loved.But it was impossible. Spencer had died in an open fire years ago. I had mourned him and buried my love for him.I stood up fast as my hands trembled. “No. This isn’t real. You’re dead.”“I’m not,” he said calmly, setting the tray on the table. “Eat first.
After a long annoying silence, Derrick finally breaks it with the groveling of his throat. “Natasha—”“No!” I cut him off, suppressed rage biting my stomach. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Just get straight to the point. Tell me, why did you ruin my life? Why did you’ve to turn the whole world against me and betray me? What did I do to deserve your cruelty?!” “Nothing.” Is Derrick’s cold response, his hand dig in his pocket looking so carefree. “I… I had to protect myself. “ “Protect yourself?” I lash out. “You destroyed me. You made me carry your sins while you walked free. You made me an ex-convict when you’re the real criminal!”At that word—ex-convict—something flickered in his gaze. And then he scoff. “That’s exactly it, Natasha. You are an ex-convict. Do you have any idea what the world would have done to me if I’d stayed married to you?” He scoffed. “The pressure was suffocating. From the moment you were sentenced, the world demanded that I cut ties with you. I
I had rehearsed this reunion a hundred times in my head—the way Rose’s little hands would reach for me, and the way she would smile.But reality came in when Diamond said, “Ma’am, she’s awake.”I rushed to my daughter's side before Diamond could finish.“Rose?” My voice is extremely soft as I watch her pale face. The older version of the fragile infant I left behind. Her lashes fluttered. “How are you, baby? How are you doing?”Her eyes opened and found mine, but she squinted at me like I was a stranger.“Who are you?” I freeze. That one single question made my chest explode. My mouth went dry and I couldn't say anything.“She’s your mother,” Diamond replied for me, and I was grateful because I couldn't even speak.Rose's frown hardened… more confusion clamoring her. “No she’s not,” she rebukes immediately. “Daddy told me my mother is dead. Aunt Florida is my mommy now.”My vision blurred and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.Derrick had told her I was dead?! I had expected cruelty
I didn’t go home immediately, although I should have. But after the scene at the Grand Royale—after Derrick’s cold dismissal and the cameras that caught every shred of my humiliation—I stumbled into the first outlet I saw. It was dim, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey. I slid into a corner booth, my prison-issued gown still clinging to me, and ordered the strongest drink they had. The bartender eyed me as if I was diseased, but he brought the glass anyway. The liquid burned down my throat like liquid fire, but the pain was good. It drowned out the echo of Derrick’s voice in the hall when he shouted for them to drag me out. It numbed me and made me relax. But the sudden mumblings around me makes my chest swell. “She’s the one, isn’t she? The ex-con who barged into the wedding?” Someone whispered. “Yeah, that’s her. Derrick Williams’ first mistake. Can you believe she still calls herself his wife?” someone else replied. “She should’ve stayed locked up. No
I had imagined freedom differently, not like this.Throughout the years I spent behind prison bars, I counted down to this day when I would come home and feel Derrick’s arms around me again.But fate is wicked. Instead of joy, it gave me a television screen in a diner by the roadside, showing my husband promising forever to another woman.I stood there frozen, my heart constricting in my throat as I heard:“Live from the Grand Royale Hall, the union between business tycoon Derrick Williams and actress Florida Cole…”I choked on air. My throat burned as I whispered his name. “Derrick…”It couldn’t be real. I blinked and leaned forward. Maybe there was a mistake somewhere.But no matter how many times I cleaned my eyes and squinted at the TV, I still saw my husband wearing a tuxedo that fit him like it was custom made for him as he slid a ring onto another woman’s finger.The cameras zoomed in on his smile, the same smile that used to undo me now belonged to her.I don’t remember leavi