Part 5

A few days passed, and what Eva had said—about Dominic divorcing me—still hadn’t happened.

Maybe he was stalling.

Or maybe… he had changed his mind.

I didn’t know.

I spent my days trying to heal. Resting. Eating whatever Eva prepared for me. Sometimes, I slipped out through the back door for a quiet walk in the park. And in the evenings, when my daughters were home, I spent time with them—playing, laughing, holding onto those small moments that still felt like mine.

Then the weekend came.

And so did the commotion.

“That’s mine!”

Chelsea’s voice rang out, loud and sharp. It was close—too close to the back kitchen. That meant she was nearby.

I rose to my feet, exchanging a glance with Eva, who was peeling fruit, before we both stepped toward the connecting door.

There, Chelsea was struggling over a book with Diana’s younger son.

I had since learned his name was Oliver—he was the same age as Chelsea. In fact, Dominic was even trying to get him enrolled in the same school Chelsea attended.

“What’s going on? Why are you fighting here?”

Rowena’s voice.

I stayed by the doorway, only peeking through, wanting to see what she would do to my daughter.

“He wants my book,” Chelsea said, trying to pull it back, but Oliver tugged just as hard. He was bigger than her, heavier—but Chelsea wasn’t any weaker.

“What’s wrong with letting Oliver borrow it? He wants to read it too.” Rowena didn’t sound like she was asking.

She sounded like she was forcing it.

“I don’t want to lend it to him. He’ll ruin it. He’s already broken some of my things.” Chelsea’s voice wavered—hurt and anger mixing together.

I wanted to step in.

I wanted to go to her.

But I held myself back again.

“I won’t ruin it, Granny, I promise.”

I almost scoffed under my breath.

How close was that boy to Rowena, to call her Granny like that?

“You heard him. He said he won’t ruin it. Now give it to him,” Rowena pressed again.

But Chelsea lifted her chin, looking straight at her grandmother—and answered, her voice firm.

“Mine is mine. If I don’t want to lend it, that’s my right.”

“What a rude child. Who taught you to speak to me like that?” Rowena snapped, snatching the book out of Chelsea’s hands and passing it straight to Oliver.

The sight stung—because she chose to defend someone else’s child over her own granddaughter.

Chelsea burst into tears.

And that hurt me more than anything.

I couldn’t stay back any longer.

I stepped forward, walked up to them, and took the book right out of Oliver’s chubby hands.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rowena demanded angrily.

I met her gaze, my eyes cold.

“I’m defending my daughter. And I’m the one who taught her to speak like that. What belongs to her is her right—to give or to lend to anyone she chooses.”

My voice was firm, unwavering.

“You insolent girl. You should remember who you are before raising your child like that,” she shot back.

I pulled Chelsea behind me, shielding her from Rowena’s contemptuous stare.

“And what exactly is wrong with how I raised her?” I challenged. “You’re an adult—you should know that what he did was wrong. He’s a guest. If he wants to borrow something from the host, he should ask politely. Not force it.”

My gaze hardened.

“Or is that how his mother raised him? To take what belongs to others, whether they’re allowed to or not?”

“What’s going on here?”

Dominic’s voice cut in as he stepped into the house.

I turned toward him—and for a moment, I was caught off guard.

Not because he looked handsome or anything like that—those feelings had long since faded—but because his suit jacket was already off… and in Diana’s hands.

What was this?

Was Diana acting like a servant attending to her master?

Or like a wife welcoming her husband home?

“Mommy…” The little boy ran straight into her arms, burying his face against her skirt.

I watched in silence.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” she asked gently.

“I just wanted to borrow Chelsea’s book, but she wouldn’t let me,” the boy said, clinging to Diana.

“He only wanted to borrow your book. Why wouldn’t you give it to him?” Dominic’s gaze turned sharp as it landed on our daughter. He looked exhausted—and irritated—and it was clear where that frustration was about to go.

“He’s already ruined some of my books before,” Chelsea protested.

“It’s just a book. If it’s damaged, you can buy another one.”

I stared at him.

Only now did I truly see it—Dominic had changed.

Completely.

He used to value everything, even the smallest things. But now? To please someone else’s child, he didn’t even care about his own daughter’s tears.

“What’s going on here?”

Amelia walked in, shopping bags hanging from both hands. She shot me a look full of disdain, as if she had already decided I was the problem.

“What now? What trouble has she caused this time? Haven’t we had enough problems in this house because of her?” she sneered.

My brows furrowed.

What was she talking about? Since when had I been the source of trouble in this family?

“Oliver wanted to borrow Chelsea’s book, but she wouldn’t give it to him,” Rowena explained.

“And that’s it?” Amelia said, as if the whole thing was trivial.

“My daughter is simply protecting what belongs to her,” I replied coldly. “If you can afford to buy that child a new book, then do it yourself. Don’t take what belongs to my daughter.”

Dominic, Rowena—even Diana—looked at me differently.

Amelia stepped closer. “What book is it that Oliver wants to borrow?” she asked Chelsea in a falsely gentle tone.

Chelsea held it up.

But Amelia snatched it right out of her small hands.

“Aunt Amel—” Chelsea tried to grab it back, but Amelia lifted the book high above her reach, making it impossible for her to take it.

Something inside me snapped.

I lunged forward and yanked the book from Amelia’s grasp—so forcefully that my nails scraped across the inside of her arm.

“Ow!” Amelia cried out. “Dom, she scratched me,” she whined, turning to her brother.

And then—

A sharp slap landed across my face.

Rowena.

“How dare you scratch her?” she hissed furiously.

My head spun for a few seconds before the sting bloomed across my left cheek, heat spreading where her hand had struck me.

I stared at Rowena in disbelief.

In six years of being Dominic’s wife, this was the first time she had ever laid a hand on me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dominic snapped, his eyes accusing—as if I were the one in the wrong.

If any of them had even a shred of reason left, they would have known it wasn’t intentional. I hadn’t meant to scratch Amelia. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t provoked me first—if she hadn’t taken Chelsea’s book.

“Useless woman. Sickly. Barren. And now violent too.”

Amelia’s voice cut through the room, every word laced with deliberate cruelty.

Sickly?

Barren?

I shot her a sharp look, but she immediately hid behind her mother, as if I might lunge at her at any second.

“Mom, look—she’s glaring at me,” she mocked.

“You have no right to speak to madam like that.”

Eva.

She had been silent all this time, but now she stepped forward, unable to hold back any longer.

“Madam?” Amelia scoffed. “What ‘madam’? Mrs. Pierce? Do you really think my brother would still keep her around after seeing how she behaves?”

“What do you mean?” I hissed.

“Dom, didn’t you tell me you were going to divorce her? Then hurry up and do it before she completely loses her mind,” Amelia said loudly, her words ringing through the room.

I stared at her.

So it wasn’t just Rowena and Dominic.

Amelia knew too.

Everyone knew.

Everyone… wanted me gone.

Or worse—

Were they all just waiting for me to die from this illness?

“Enough,” Dominic snapped at his sister.

I looked at him, my gaze cold.

This was it.

The moment I needed answers.

“Take Chelsea away,” I said quietly to Eva.

She hesitated at first—probably worried about me—but in the end, she nodded and led Chelsea toward the back, through the connecting door where Elena was playing in the room.

The moment they were gone, the air felt heavier.

“So,” I said, my voice steady despite everything, “you’re planning to divorce me?”

“Not if you die first from your illness.”

Amelia’s whisper was soft—but loud enough for me to hear.

“Why?” I asked again, needing to hear it. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to stay still—to listen.

“What is there left to hold onto in this marriage?” Rowena answered this time. “You’re sick. Whether it’s tomorrow or the day after, who knows if you’ll even still be alive. And even if you are… you’re no longer of any use. You can’t give my son a male heir.”

“Is that really the only reason?” I asked, my curiosity edged with something colder.

My gaze shifted to Diana.

She immediately shrank behind Dominic’s back, as if trying to disappear—only confirming what I already suspected.

“What else could it be?” Rowena scoffed. “Your husband is a normal man. How do you expect him to live celibate for a year like this?”

For a moment, it felt like something inside my head snapped to attention.

“Celibate? What do you mean?” I looked at her, searching for an answer.

But she turned her face away, refusing to meet my eyes.

“I’m going to marry Diana.”

Dominic’s words struck like lightning.

“And I have to divorce you before we can register the marriage legally,” he continued, his face flushed. “Diana… she—”

“She’s pregnant with Dominic’s child,” Rowena cut in smoothly. “And I can assure you—it’s a boy.”