Chapter3

I planned to hand Alaric the divorce papers when he returned.

Instead, I woke up the next morning to a vicious slap across my face.

Odessa stood by my bed, her eyes rimmed red. "Where is my diamond brooch? It's my mother's only heirloom. Where did you hide it?"

Alaric stood right behind her, his expression like carved ice.

She had found out I was in her parlor yesterday and was clearly trying to frame me.

Her tactic was pathetically cheap.

She raised her hand to slap me again, but I caught her wrist in a tight grip.

"I was there yesterday, yes. But only to drop off the divorce papers."

Alaric’s brow furrowed sharply.

I lifted my chin. "Check the hallway security cameras if you don't believe me."

All the color instantly drained from Odessa's face.

She was used to pulling these stunts. In the past, I had always swallowed the insults just to keep the peace, purely for a chance to see Jude.

But I had no intention of letting her off the hook this time.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "If the cameras prove I stole it, I'll turn myself in and go right back to jail. But if you hid it yourself... that's a felony."

Odessa panicked. She bit her lip, swaying slightly.

"She stole it!"

A sharp, childish voice cut through the room.

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Four-year-old Jude stepped out from behind Alaric's legs. He didn't just point at me. He looked at me with unfiltered disgust.

"I saw her! The dirty prison lady snuck into Mommy Odessa's room and took the shiny pin!"

I looked at my own flesh and blood in absolute shock. "Jude... what are you saying? Mommy didn't—"

"Don't call yourself my mommy!" Jude screamed.

He ran forward and kicked my leg hard. "You're a thief! You stole it because you're poor and bad!"

Every single word was a serrated knife carving out my heart. I reached out to him, trembling. "Jude..."

"Ew! Don't touch me!" He spat, shrinking back into Odessa's arms.

Odessa hugged him and kissed his cheek loudly. "Oh, my brave baby. Thank God you saw the truth. Mommy is so proud of you."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Alaric cut me off. "He’s just a child. He's your own son. Why would he ever frame you?"

He looked down at me with ultimate cruelty. "That brooch was worth ten million dollars. You either pay for it, or my lawyers will make sure you rot in a cell for another ten years."

Ten million. The exact amount of money I had locked away in a trust fund for Jude's future heart surgeries.

"I don't have the money," I whispered.

"I know." Alaric smiled coldly. "But you still have me as your husband. You can work off your debt."

He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the massive, custom master bathroom.

Then, he turned on the water and stepped into the giant soaking tub with Odessa, right in front of me.

He looked down at my shivering body.

"You will kneel right here," Alaric ordered. "Whenever we need something, you crawl over and bring it. One million per delivery."

The heavy glass door slid shut.

A second later, Odessa's breathless laugh echoed through the glass.

My fingernails dug deeply into the grout between the tiles.

For ten hours, I knelt on the rough, wet floor.

I delivered fifteen times. Ice water. Massage oils. Towels. Condoms.

The rough tiles tore the skin off my knees.

Maids walked past the open hallway, giggling behind their hands.

"Delivering condoms for her husband's mistress. She really has no shame left."

"Her own son called her a dirty thief today. I'd kill myself if I were her."

"She's totally used to the humiliation."

The only exception was the old housekeeper who used to volunteer at my orphanage.

She stopped, looking at my bleeding knees with teary eyes. "Madam... please stop kneeling..."

"I'm fine," I said. My voice was completely dead.

Ten years ago, Alaric knelt on broken glass to beg my stepfather to spare me from abuse.

Nineteen-year-old Romy never thought the boy who would die for her would one day make her kneel in her own blood outside his bathtub.

But that nineteen-year-old Romy had died ten years ago.

I closed my eyes. "It really is time to grow up."

After the fifteenth delivery, I gripped the marble vanity and pulled myself up.

Factoring in the ten-million-dollar debt, I even had a five-million-dollar surplus.

Amidst the sickening splashing sounds from the tub, I pulled out the crumpled divorce papers.

I stacked them neatly on the silver tray outside the door.

I placed my black credit card right on top of the signature line.

I turned around.

Jude was standing at the end of the hallway, holding his teddy bear.

He stared at my bleeding knees, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

For a second, a flash of actual panic and confusion crossed his big eyes.

"Mom..." he whispered, his voice trembling for the first time.

I stopped.

I could hardly believe my ears. He had finally called me Mom. For four years, I would have given anything just to hear that single word.

But it was completely worthless now. My heart felt entirely hollow. I felt no pain, and I no longer cared.

I didn't say a word.

I just walked right past him, treating him as if he were nothing but air.

"Mom!" Jude cried out behind me.

But I never looked back.