Novel & Cerita His Regret, Her Name, My Freedom

She grabbed my arm and said, “Emily, Nathan and I only ran into each other by chance.” Her fingers landed right on the cut from earlier. A sharp sting shot through my arm, and I could not help frowning. I took a deep breath and said nothing. I only gave a cold nod. All at once, Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Emily,” she said in a wounded voice. “I know you don’t like me. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I never appear in front of you again.” Nathan looked at Chloe with pity, then turned on me with fury.

Tomorrow, I would walk into a room filled with cameras, whispers, and ghosts. Tomorrow, I would see the man who once broke me. But this time, he wouldn’t see the woman who fell. He’d see the woman who rose. I turned off the light and whispered into the dark, “This isn’t revenge. This is freedom.”

I want this, but now that she gives it to me so easily—too easily—I wonder if I have made the right choice at all. When she rejects me, I stumble to the floor and clutch my aching chest tightly, while she walks away, head high and shoulders straight like a woman who has just regained her freedom. Isolde crouches low, her hands gripping my arms as she helps me to stand. I stare at the divorce papers on the table over and over again, and I still can't believe that we are really over. Seconds later, a maid storms in. “The Luna… she collapsed in the corridor.”

“Whatever debt of gratitude she owed you, people went null the moment you threw her and our biological mother in jail. You’re no longer welcome in our midst, so leave this room. Now!” He walked to the door and opened it for them. Henry was already speaking, but I tuned him out as a memory flashed. Unshed tears burned at the back of my eyes as I remembered the day I was wrongfully imprisoned. I remembered it all. The pain, the torment, the betrayal, and the embarrassment.

Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her voice rising each time, as if years of pent-up frustration had finally reached their breaking point. “Do you really want to go through this? Maybe we can—” “No!” Her voice was firm and final. “I want to be free from you as soon as possible. You remind me of everything I have lost.” Something inside me twisted painfully, but I couldn’t name it. I grabbed the papers and looked at them. It felt weird, as if I was ending something I shouldn’t. Would I regret it if I went through with it? What if it was a mistake from the beginning?

Anger. Pride. And a vow that one day, Rafael would regret every word he said today. “All right, Rafael,” she whispered, her voice trembling but sharp. “You want me free? Then I’ll be free. But don’t forget…” — she paused, eyes burning with resolve — “my freedom will become your nightmare.”

All the things she'd fought all her life for All the things she'd tried to prove— Meant nothing anymore. She'd lost Fraser. She'd lost revenge. And now she'd lost the only thing she'd ever had to herself. Her father never wanted her. And later? Later no one else did either. Her fists encircle her arms as she strained a hard, hollow laugh. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. So when the pills rested before her When freedom literally hung in the balance— She didn't do it.

What was the point of having all this money if she couldn't use her voice to speak the truth, to defend herself, to honor the memory of Phoenix? She knew she had made a terrible mistake. She had traded her freedom for security, her voice for money. And as she sat there, alone in her new apartment, she vowed to find a way to break free from the chains of silence, to reclaim her voice, to honor the memory of the man she loved. It would be a long, difficult journey. But she was determined to do it, no matter the cost.

She could feel his steady, watchful presence without needing him to speak it. Outside, the street was hot and bright. Scott opened the car door and waited. Freeda slid into the seat, folder on her lap. For a long second, she only looked down at the top page, the name she had refused to compromise, the name she had fought to keep, the name that now belonged fully to her. Scott started the car. “You expected that.” “Yes.” “And?” Freeda leaned back, letting sunlight strike her face. “And I’m tired of people saying ‘wife’ when they mean erased.”

and I nodded because it was, it wasn’t armor, it wasn’t a statement, it was just a dress that felt like breathing, soft and honest and mine. “You gonna call it something?” he asked, and I thought about it for a long time, about all the names I’d been called and all the names I’d survived, and then I said “Freedom, I’m calling it Freedom, because that’s what it is, that’s what I am now,” and he smiled like he’d been waiting for me to name it out loud.