Chapter 1

Lydia

In. Out. In. Out.

I forced myself to take breathing exercises, gripping the mop handle tightly as I worked. I stared at my feet, trying to get a hold of myself. The work out boots I was putting on came into view, a harsh reminder of the life I was currently living. I shut my eyes tightly, wanting to block out the harsh reminder of where I was. I opened them almost immediately when the darkness only caused my nausea to heighten. I tried to resume my breathing exercise.

In. Out. In. Out.

It was of no use. The bleach-slick tiles blurred as my knees buckled, and the mop handle slipped from my fingers, clattering loudly against the cold floor. A sickly hum filled my ears, drowning out the prison guards’ muffled orders to get it together. I felt my body lowering and lowering until my head finally hit the ground, my vision a mix of orange and white and black. I had one second to try and steady myself. One second only.

And then there was nothing.

When I came to, the sterile tang of disinfectant bit at my nostrils, my head throbbing like I’d slammed it against a concrete wall. My body felt heavy, anchored to a thin mattress that squeaked beneath me as I stirred. I blinked against the harsh light until a face came into view - a nurse with warm brown eyes and a face lined by years of concern. A nurse I knew all too well from all the gossip in my cell block about her ridiculous kindness.

Gloria.

"Easy now," she said, her voice low and calm. "You're in the prison hospital. You fainted during your shift." I blinked against the bright lighting, fragments of memories piecing themselves together in my head. The prison part of her statement wasn't a surprise. I'd already come to terms with my new life as an inmate long ago. The hospital part however... it snapped me out of my daze a little bit. I had never visited the prison hospital in the three months I'd been here. I did my best to clean up my own mess as much as possible.

Did she say I fainted? I hadn’t eaten much during lunch - what they served barely qualified as food - but I’d felt fine. Well, fine enough for a place like Westgate. My lips parted to respond, but she silenced me with a look. "You need to listen carefully, Lydia," she said, leaning closer. Her voice dropped, conspiratorial. My eyebrows furrowed at the concerned expression on her face, but that was all the reaction I was willing to give. "I ran some tests to figure out why you collapsed."

Ran some tests?

My own suspicions came back in spades and I immediately tensed. Something in her tone set my pulse racing. I gripped the edge of the mattress like it might steady the whirlpool forming in my chest. "You’re three months pregnant." The room stilled. It took a few minutes for me to register her words, and then a few more for me to register it was me she was speaking to. Her announcement hit me like a freight train. Pregnant. Three months. I swallowed hard.

How could I be pregnant?

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling. I shook my head, refusing to accept the results she'd given me of the tests she'd conducted. There was no way I was actually pregnant. I knew I'd been feeling a lot dizzy lately and I'd equally noticed I seemed to run a slight fever in the mornings, but pregnant? And already three months gone? "That… that can’t be right."

Gloria nodded solemnly. "It’s right, Lydia. I double-checked the results myself."

My hands flew to my stomach instinctively, pressing against the threadbare fabric of my uniform. There was nothing there, no sign of the life growing inside me. And yet… my chest tightened as panic clawed its way up my throat. The timing was impossible - or at least improbable - but deep down, I knew the truth. I’d been so careful to block out that night since I'd started my sentence, to suppress the memory of him. When I'd missed my period twice, it had been so easy to write it off as nothing more than a thyroid disorder.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of Gloria. "Please," I said hoarsely, my voice cracking under the weight of desperation. "You can’t tell anyone. No one can know about this." She stared at me for a moment, her face unreadable. I could have sworn my life flashed before my eyes in that moment. She would let my evil witch of a mother-in-law know, and then they would take my baby from me. A tear slipped down my cheek and I parted my lips, prepared to plead once more.

She nodded then, much to my surprise. "I won’t say a word. But you have to promise me something, Lydia." I stared at her, barely able to breathe. She took my hand in hers, rubbing them affectionately. I could easily see why the other inmates talked about her. She was indeed ridiculously kind. Any other nurse, and they definitely wouldn't have listened to my plea. "Promise me you’ll come back regularly for checkups. No skipping, no excuses." Her tone softened slightly. "You and the baby need to be monitored. Do you understand? I would like to make sure the baby is okay. you figure out what you're going to do now"

I nodded, my response catching in my throat. Gloria sighed and patted my hand gently before stepping away to inform the guards I needed rest. The journey back to my cell felt like I was stuck in some kind of nightmare. The guards flanked me on either side, but I barely registered their presence. My legs moved of their own accord, my mind choosing to remain stuck in that hospital bed, replaying Gloria’s words over and over. Three months pregnant. I didn’t even notice when we reached my cell until the metallic clink of the door shutting jolted me back to reality. I stumbled to the cot, the thin mattress sagging under my weight as I collapsed onto it.

My hands trembled as they hovered over my stomach, and I wondered how I was already three months gone. How could I be carrying a child in there. My stomach was still almost as flat as a washboard. What if my child wasn't growing like it should because I was barely living decently? Another tear slipped from the corner of my eye, tracing a path down my cheek. How could I protect a child in this place? How could I give them anything but fear, hunger, and the suffocating weight of survival?

I curled onto my side, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as though that might shield us both from the cruel world beyond these walls. For the first time in years, I prayed - silent, fervent, desperate - for a miracle. I spread out my fingers in front of me, the wedding band on my middle finger mocking me with the way it shone even in the dim light. Three months ago, my life had almost been perfect. My in-laws had never actually accepted me but it hadn't mattered because I'd still been with the love of my life. The man I'd thought I would spend forever with.

I let the darkness pull me under, the image behind my eyelids of that same man. Only this time he was staring at me with hate and disgust...

As I got dragged away by the police.

Chapter 2

Mason

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but the pain was a welcome distraction. I slammed the empty glass down on the counter, nodding for the bartender to pour me another cup. He hesitated for a moment - probably wondering if I’d had enough - but he didn’t say anything. They never do. Not here. This was the kind of place where questions stayed locked behind pursed lips, where broken men came to drown themselves in cheap liquor and dim lighting.

I was already three glasses in, but it wasn’t working. The ache in my chest hadn’t dulled, and the image of her face kept flashing in my mind. I hadn't set my eyes on her since that night three months ago. I'd tried to visit her on different occasions after she'd started her sentence but I'd ended up reversing the car and going back home each time. There hadn't been a trial because Lydia had plead guilty. How could she not? She'd murdered my stepfather in cold blood, right in front of my mother and sister.

I could never forgive her for that.

No matter how many times I swallowed the whiskey, the memory clung to me like a leech. A part of me hated her for taking matters into her own hands. We'd promised to spend the rest of our lives together, but that was no longer happening now that she was locked up. I took a swig of the alcohol the bartender had poured out, downing the entire content of the cup in one go. I debated asking him to pour me another glass but thought against it, for now.

“Hey, handsome,” a sultry voice called out, breaking through my haze. I lazily looked up, fixing my attention on the woman in front of me. She stood leaning casually against the bar, her lips painted a deep crimson. Her dress - or what little of it there was - clung to her like a second skin, glittering as she moved. Definitely a stripper. I could tell by the confidence in her stance, the way her hips swayed like she owned the room. “You look like you could use some company,” she purred, brushing a strand of her obviously fake blonde hair over her shoulder.

I laughed dryly, shaking my head. “You’re not wrong.”

She took it as an invitation, sliding onto the stool next to me. Her perfume was strong, a mix of vanilla and something sharper. It made my head spin. Or maybe that was the alcohol. “What’s got you so down?” she asked, trailing a finger along the rim of my glass. I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say? That my wife was locked away for a crime I couldn’t bring myself to fully hate her for? That I was here, drinking myself into oblivion because I didn’t know how to face the mess my life had become?

Instead, I let her keep talking. Let her lean in closer, her hand grazing my arm. Her touch was light, teasing, and for a brief moment, I let myself lean into it. Let her play her game. I glanced toward the bar’s back hallway, dimly lit and deserted. The manager wasn’t in sight - probably dealing with some other drunk fool. “Come on,” I murmured, my lips brushing her ear. “Let's hurry to the bathroom before someone notices.” Her grin widened, and she took my hand, immediately leading me away from the room. I let her pull me into the small, grimy space, the door clicking shut behind us. She pressed against me, her hands roaming, her lips finding my neck.

I groaned when she reached down and began rubbing me through my pants. I could immediately feel my dick hardening at her touch. She drew her lips away from my neck, trying to kiss me. I subtly buried my face in her neck, groaning loudly in an effort to distract her from the fact that I didn't want her lips on mine. She took my actions as an encouragement and began stroking me even faster. I pressed my lips together when she expertly unbuckled my pants, slipping her hand beneath my boxer briefs. I cursed beneath my breath as I felt the soft skin of her palm wrapping around my cock.

She gripped me harder, working my length from the base to the tip. I let my hand trail her body, squeezing her tits in my hand. Her tits were soft but nearly as soft as... Lydia's. The name of the woman I'd gotten married to was enough to snap me out of my lustful haze. I gripped the woman's wrist, pushing her hand away from my cock. "I-I can't do this," I whispered apologetically, trying to catch my breath. She stepped away from me, and I expected her to get pissed, but she was only looking at me like she was trying to figure me out.

"Hhmm," She tilted her head to the side. "I saw the wedding band," She said, gesturing towards the ring on my left middle finger. "But I figured you probably just weren't to let it go yet. It's your wife you're not willing to let go yet, isn't it?" I drew in a steadying breath, unwilling to bother coming up with a reply. I adjusted my pants, fastened my belt securely, and headed straight out of the bathroom. The bartender raised an eyebrow when I came back to the bar but didn't say a word. I signaled him to pour me a fresh cup.

I'd taken only three more when the room began spinning.

I heard the bartender curse beneath his breath. "Hey man, you might want to ask someone to come get you while you still can." I ignored him, downing the next shot. As if on cue, my phone rang in my pocket. I took it out, muttering a curse when I realized it was Luke. The bastard always seemed to know when I was losing it. I stumbled across the room and stepped outside, closing the club door behind me to answer Luke's call. I put some distance between me and the loud music before swiping my thumb across the screen.

"It's one o'clock in the morning, where the hell are you?" He demanded the second the call went through. I pulled my phone away from my ears. One? No shit, the dickhead was actually right. "I'm at that dive on 7th." He released a colorful string of curses, and I might have laughed if my head wasn't already banging. I'd left town on purpose, wanting space away from everyone. "I'll be in my car," I informed him, ending the call before he had a chance to say anything else.

I felt a pinprick of guilt at the thought that he was going to drive all the way out here to come get me. I would never have strayed this far from town if they had just given me a bit of space like I'd asked. It's been three months for goodness' sake, I was sick of how they constantly kept tabs on me. Like they didn't trust me to take care of myself. Reminding myself that this was their fault not mine, I slowly made my way to my car.

I shut the doors and locked myself in, my head swimming.

A second later, I was out like a light.

Chapter 3

Lydia

I sat on the examination table, the paper crinkling beneath me as I shifted. My fingers twisted together, my nails digging into my palms. Gloria stood a few feet away, her back to me as she prepared whatever tools she needed for the check up. “Alright,” she said, turning back to me with a clipboard in hand. “You ready to take a look?” I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was. My stomach churned with nerves as she squirted the cold gel onto my abdomen and began the ultrasound.

The machine beeped steadily, the faint whooshing sound of my heartbeat filling the room. “Wow," She muttered underneath her breath. I craned my neck, wanting to know what the matter was. She smiled softly, and I didn't think I was imagining the way her eyes glistened. “You're pregnant with twins,” She informed tracing two faint outlines on the screen.

Twins.

I wasn't carrying just one baby, but two? My hand went to my stomach. I had two tiny lives growing inside me. Two innocent souls I hadn’t planned for, hadn’t expected, and didn’t know how to protect in a place like this. Gloria must have noticed the torn expression on my face because her eyes softened. “It’s a lot to take in, I know,” she said gently. “Do you have any family on the outside who could help? Someone to take care of you?”

I thought about the people who had all turned their back on me.

I shook my head. “No. It’s just me.”

Her eyes searched mine, and not for the first time, I saw something other than detached professionalism in her gaze. There was empathy, curiosity. “What are you in here for, Lydia?” she asked quietly. I froze at her question, my breath hitching in my chest. My first instinct was to lie, to deflect, but somehow it didn't feel right. It wasn't like the crime I'd been jailed for was any secret anyway. There were only a few people who hadn't gotten wind of what was one of the hottest gossip in the country.

“It was my step father in law,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t interrupt. She simply nodded, urging me to continue.

The memory washed over me like a tidal wave, dragging me back to that night.

***

It was late, the kind of late where even the moon seemed too tired to shine. I had gone downstairs to get some snacks and I was heading back to mine and Mason's room when I heard the noise; muffled whimpers and soft grunts. Frowning, I'd traced the noise down to my step father in law's room. My hands were shaking when I reached for the doorknob, my breath hitching in my throat when I heard Zoe's muffled sob. “Stop,” she whimpered from inside the room, her tone thick with desperation. “Please, stop-”

A cold dread settled in my chest, rooting me to the spot. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. God, please no. Let the situation not be what I was thinking. When Jared’s sickening growl followed, I realized it was exactly what I was thinking. “I'm doing this for you, Zoe, so it wouldn't hurt when you want to do it with the boys at school.” he said, his voice low and menacing. “This is for your own good.” My ears rang. For her own good? He was sexually assaulting her for her own good? Something in me snapped. I pushed open the door, the force of it slamming against the wall with a deafening crack.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, my voice shaking with rage as my eyes locked on the scene before me. Jared’s hulking frame loomed over Zoe’s trembling figure, his hands gripping her arms so tightly I could see the red marks already blooming on her pale skin. Zoe’s tear-streaked face turned toward me, her eyes wide with fear. She tried to run towards me but her step father easily grabbed her, pushing her behind him. “Lydia,” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jared’s head snapped in my direction, his eyes narrowing with cold fury. “Get out,” he barked, his grip on Zoe tightening as if daring me to intervene.

“No,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I stepped further into the room, my body trembling with equal parts fear and fury. “Let her go. Now.”

Jared smirked, a cruel, twisted expression that sent chills down my spine. “And what are you going to do? You think you can stop me?”

Zoe whimpered again, and that sound - it shattered something inside me. Without thinking, I lunged at him, grabbing his arm and trying to pry him away from her. He shoved me back with ease, sending me stumbling straight into the dresser. “Stay out of this,” he sneered. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.” If anything his words only sent me into another daze of rage. No idea what I was dealing with? Everyone had accepted this bastard as a member of the family, and this was how he repayed them? He pinned me to the ground, smiling devilishly above me.

I struggled beneath him, trying to free myself. Before I could pry myself off of him, Zoe moved. Her hands darted toward the nightstand, and before I fully understood what was happening, she had Jared’s gun in her trembling grip. "Let her go!" she screamed, her voice breaking with panic as she pointed the gun at him. My eyes widened and I immediately tried to get her attention before she did something stupid. Jared laughed - a low, guttural sound that made my stomach turn.

“You don’t have the guts,” he said, getting off me and taking a step toward her.

“Stop!” I shouted, trying to gain control of the situation. “Zoe, put the gun down!”

His smile was mocking. "Do it. I dare-"

The gun fired.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The deafening cracks echoed through the room, and then there was silence.

Until Jared’s body hit the floor with a resounding thud.

***

The memory faded, and I realized my hands were clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I opened my mouth to continue, but no words came out. Gloria seemed to understand, rubbing my back soothingly as I silently cried. "It's okay. You don't need to let me know everything if it's too much for you to handle right now," She consoled. I squeezed her hand in a wordless thanks before placing my hand on my stomach, and trying to gather myself. I knew I was going to let her know everything eventually.

Just not today.

We were quiet for a moment, and then she placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, Lydia. But those babies… they’re a chance for something good. Something worth fighting for.” Her words hung in the air, and as I looked back at the ultrasound screen, at the two tiny lives flickering on the monitor, another tear slipped down my cheek. She was right. My babies were my only chance for a better life. As I went back to work, I knew no matter how broken or lost I felt, I would fight for them.

And I would fight with every ounce of blood left in my veins.

Chapter 4

Mason

Dinner with my family before Lydia and I had gotten married had always felt like a ritual - a carefully choreographed performance where we danced around emotions and narrowly avoided confrontations. The sound of clinking silverware was the only thing breaking the silence as I worked through my meal. Across from me, my mother sat poised, her back straight as ever, her every movement precise and deliberate. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin before speaking, her tone crisp enough to cut through the air.

"The papers are ready?" She asked, meeting my gaze. "And signed as well?" She pushed further. I darted a glance in Zoe's direction, already knowing what expression I would find on her face. My mother and I had kept our plans from her until now, knowing she would definitely have objected. Just as I'd guessed, her eyebrows were drawn together in confusion and I could see the unspoken question in her eyes. I set my fork down, taking a sip of water before meeting my mother's gaze.

“Yes,”I replied evenly. “€œThey're ready. I signed them yesterday.” The weight of her approval - or disapproval, since was never satisfied no matter what - hung in the air between us. Before I could narrow down the look on her face, Zoe’s voice cut through.

"What papers?" she questioned.

My mother turned her attention to her then, and I thought I could defect an unspoken challenge in her gaze but it was probably all in my head. "The divorce papers," she replied, her voice calm and detached, as though she were discussing a business deal. “€œMason will be visiting Lydia in prison soon to deliver them.” The reminder that my marriage was about to come to an end was like getting hit with a ton of bricks. I noticed the way Zoe froze, her fork suspended mid-air, the disbelief in her eyes giving way to outright shock.

I clenched my jaw, trying to focus on the food in front of me, but it was impossible to ignore the tension crackling in the room. My mother, as always, remained unbothered. She finished her meal without missing a beat, pushed her chair back, and stood with the grace of someone who had long since mastered control. "I expect her signature to be on the papers as soon as possible so that way she will be out of our life, forever." she said, smoothing the napkin over the table before setting it down, “Goodnight.”€ I gave her a subtle nod, watching as she headed upstairs.

I couldn't help the guilt that ate at me then. She had gotten like this - closed off, guarded, indifferent - all because of me. If I had never met Lydia... I couldn't blame her for wanting to get justice for his death the only way she knew how. I turned my attention back to my food. Zoe wasted no time. “You’€™re taking this too far, Mason," she said, her voice low but sharp. I sighed, forking some Mac and cheese into my mouth. She pushed further. "Mason, you're making a big-"

“Don’€™t start, Zoe.”

“No,” she snapped, her tone rising. “€œYou listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me," I cut in, feeling my anger bubbling beneath my skin. I was tired of the whole situation, tired of the back and forth. My brain and heart had been at war from the moment I'd walked into my step father's room three months ago. The second I'd come to know of Lydia's secret, come to know she wasn't at all the innocent woman she pretended to be... I let my fork drop with a clang. "Just because you never liked Jared doesn't mean we should let his killer go unpunished." I snapped.

I ignored the disbelieving look on her face at my words, meeting her gaze head-on. Did she think this was easy for me? That this was an easy decision for me to make? Both of them might have crossed a line but Lydia had made the biggest mistake when she'd taken matters into her own hands and taken his life. She'd had no right to do that. I had never pegged her for many of the things she'd ended up doing, but mostly I had never pegged her for a killer. “She killed our stepfather, Zoe. She’s a murderer. This isn't about punishment; it's about justice.”

She shook her head, disappointment flashing across her face. "Justice?”€ she echoed, her voice sounding squeaky. I darted my gaze to the stairs, wanting to make sure my mother wasn't lurking by. Knowing her own daughter was taking Lydia's side would wreck her. Zoe scoffed, bringing my attention back to her. “€œIs this really about justice? Or is this about jealousy? Because it sounds a hell of a lot like the latter. We both know neither of us really cared for Jared. He's also in the wrong here, but you're taking his side because it's her betrayal that cut the most, right? Mom told you Lydia had been cheating on you so now you-”

"Enough, Zoe!" I yelled, slamming my hands down on the table and squeezing my eyes tightly, trying to block out her words. Trying to push back the thoughts and images that has haunts me for weeks. Her words had struck a nerve, and I didn't care that she could see it. My eyes were narrowed into slits by the time I reopened them. “She’s a murderer," I repeated, my voice colder than I intended. "I don't care what might have happened or how much you liked her, you have to come to terms with the truth. It was her who pulled the trigger that night. Not him"

Zoe stared at me for a long moment, her disappointment cutting deeper than I cared to admit. “That's really all she is to you now?”€ she asked softly, “€œA murderer?”€ I huffed, shaking my head. There was no use arguing with her, she clearly wasn't willing to listen and understand the situation. If she wanted to carry on asking questions, I had no answer for her. Or maybe I did, but I couldn't say it. “You've made up your mind, haven't you? You won’t even think about who she was before all of this. Who she still is.”

Her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood, and left the room without another word. Who she was? She was my wife . The woman I'd thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Who she still was? I thought about the divorce papers still sitting on my desk in my study. The ones I'd lied to my mother that I'd already signed. Well, we were about to fix who she was, weren't we? By the end of the week, after the divorce papers had been filed, we would mean absolutely nothing to each other.

I sat there in the silence she left behind, staring at the spot where she'd been. Before I even realized what I was doing, my hand reached for the glass in front of me. In one swift motion, I hurled it blindly across the room. The sound of it shattering pierced the air. I looked down at the jagged shards scattered across the floor, my chest heaving. For a moment, I saw myself in those broken pieces - fractured, distorted, and unrecognizable. For the first time, I wondered if Zoe was right. What if...

What if I was about to make the worst mistake of my life?

Chapter 5

Mason

The morning felt off. Nothing in particular had happened, yet the new day felt so old. I ignored it, pushed it down as much as possible, and focused on my morning routines.

I started with my usual workout—push-ups, sit-ups, a run on the treadmill. Focusing all my thoughts and worries on the feel of my feet against the machine should have helped clear my mind, but it didn’t. It only made me more aware of how unsettled I felt.

By the time I finished, I was drowned in sweat as my shirt clung to my skin. I stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over me.

Even a bath couldn't soothe the ache and heaviness. I stood there longer than usual, staring at the tiles as my mind continued to run in circles.

I didn’t need to think about her. I didn’t need to think about the divorce papers I was supposed to prepare. Yet, no matter how much I tried to shove it aside, Lydia’s face crept into my thoughts.

I exhaled sharply, shutting off the water. Enough.

Stepping out, I grabbed a towel and dried off. Then I moved to my closet. As I buttoned my shirt, a soft knock came at my door. I already knew who it was before she even spoke.

My mother.

She let herself in without waiting for my answer. Dressed in an elegant cream-coloured blouse and black pants, she moved with the same composed grace she always did.

For a woman that had just lost her husband, she was surely holding it together, even though my stepfather had always been a dick.

I didn't bother facing her as I entered the closet and searched for my cufflinks. “You’re up early,” she said lightly, stepping further in.

I finished buttoning my cuff. “I always am.”

She hummed, walking toward the window. “It’s a good habit.” Her tone was casual, but I knew better. She never came to my room just to chat, especially not with all the tension around.

I pulled on my jacket, waiting for it.

“Have you made all the preparations?” she asked finally, her voice losing the lightness it held a second ago. I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “For what?”

She turned and kept her heavy gaze on me. “For the divorce, Mason.” I exhaled through my nose, adjusting my tie. “It’s being handled.”

“Good,” she said, sounding quite relieved. Mother never accepted Lydia, so it's no surprise. She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “When are you going to see her?” That question was one I was hoping she wouldn't ask.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I admitted.

“Well, let me know when you do,” she said, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll come with you.” I stilled, my fingers pausing over the knot of my tie. “That’s unnecessary.”

“She needs to understand,” my mother said, voice hardening. “She needs to see that there’s no place for her in this family anymore. That she never belonged in the first place and then sign the damn papers.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay composed. “I’ll handle it,” I replied. For a while, she stayed silent, and I prayed she'd just go away, but instead, she came closer. “Mason—”

My ringtone cut her off, saving me just in time. I didn’t hesitate to grab it from my nightstand. I picked up my phone to my view and saw it was my assistant calling.

“I have to take this,” I said, already answering the call. My mother narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t push. Instead, she turned and walked toward the door, pausing only for a second. “Don’t let this drag on. Get it done.” Then she left.

I inhaled deeply, pressing the phone to my ear. “Talk.”

“Good morning, sir,” my assistant greeted. “Your first meeting is at ten. I’ve sent you the updated reports from last night. Also, the contract for the new deal came in.”

I rubbed my temple. “Anything urgent?”

“No, but Mr. Rossi requested a private meeting. He wouldn’t say what it was about, only that it was important.” I frowned. “Set it up for this afternoon.”

“Understood. And about the divorce papers—” I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. “Are they ready?.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to deliver them?”

“No. I’ll do it myself.” A pause. Then, “Understood.”

I ended the call, tucking my phone into my pocket. I knew I should have felt relieved that everything was moving forward. Soon, this chapter would be closed.

But instead, all I felt was that same unease, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. Even after everything, I did love her, but she betrayed me.

.

.

The afternoon couldn’t come any faster.

The meeting with Mr. Rossi was dragging. I could hear every word being said, but none of it stuck. Numbers. Figures. Expansion plans. It was all just noise in the background.

I sat at the head of the long glass table; my hands clasped together as my finance team presented their reports. The room was filled with department heads, each taking turns discussing projections and market trends.

I should have been paying attention. Instead, my mind was elsewhere.

"...we estimate a 12% increase in revenue by the next quarter, assuming the expansion deal with the South American suppliers goes through."

I barely heard a word of it.

Lydia.

The name kept forcing its way into my thoughts.

"...the budget allocation for the new development project will be adjusted accordingly..."

I clenched my jaw, trying to focus. This was my business. My company. This mattered.

But no matter how much I tried to stay in the moment, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. To what was waiting for me after this meeting.

"Mr. Mason?"

I blinked, bringing my attention back to the room. My finance director, a sharp-dressed man in his forties, was looking at me expectantly.

I leaned back in my chair. "Repeat that."

He hesitated for a second before clearing his throat. "I was saying, with the current negotiations underway, we need your approval on the final contract terms before moving forward."

"Send the details to my assistant," I said, not bothering to ask him to explain again. "I'll review it later."

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t satisfied with my reply. Still, I didn’t care.

The rest of the meeting continued, but I barely contributed. By the time it finally ended, I stood without a word and walked out, heading straight to my office.

The moment I stepped inside, I let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over my face. What's wrong with me? I could feel my brain spiraling into depression at this point.

No matter how much I ignored that tiny feeling, I couldn't deny that Zoe's words from last night bothered me. I felt... guilty. For what exactly? This divorce should be easy. She betrayed me. She ruined everything about our marriage because of her infidelity. There was nothing to think about.

I moved to my desk, about to sit, when a knock came at the door. "Come in."

My assistant entered, holding a neat stack of papers. He walked over and placed them on my desk. "The documents you requested, sir."

I didn’t have to ask what they were. I already knew.

The divorce papers.

I stared at them for a while as though they were the devil's poison. My assistant adjusted his tie. "Would you like me to—"

"Leave them," I said. He gave a small nod and stepped back, waiting.

I reached forward, flipping through the pages. My name was already typed neatly on the signature line. All I had to do was sign.

Just a signature. That was it.

I picked up my pen but didn’t move. My grip tightened around it as I stared at the paper in front of me.

Three years.

I spent three years with her, thinking I knew the woman I married. Then everything fell apart.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. Lydia. Standing in the middle of that room. Her hands wrapped around the gun.

The gun she used to kill my stepfather.

I had walked in seconds after it happened. The smell of gunpowder was still in the air. His body was on the ground, in a pool of his blood. And Lydia, frozen in place.

I could still see it. The way her fingers trembled. The way her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t.

I had loved her and trusted her. And she had done this.

Slept with my stepfather. Then murdered him. I felt anger, betrayal, and jealousy burn at my throat as I pressed the pen to the paper. One signature. Then another. I flipped to the last page, signed it, and shoved the papers toward Daniel, my assistant.

"Prepare the car," I said, my voice cold. "We're going to the prison." Daniel nodded almost immediately. "Yes, sir."

He picked up the signed papers and left.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.

It was done.

I was going to see my ex-wife. And for the last time.

Chapter 6

Lydia

I woke up feeling extremely sick. My stomach turned as I felt the little I had to eat last night slowly rush up, and my head felt so heavy I feared it'd pop soon.

The air in the cell was damp; I could smell all the body heat, sweat, and heavy metal that I couldn't distinguish from the blood, too. I pressed my hand against my belly as memories flooded in.

"You have to tell Mason," Gloria’s voice said.

Tell him? And then what? Would he even believe me?

I sucked in a breath, trying to calm myself down as emotions rushed in all at once. A lump formed in my throat, and my body ached from the cold, hard mattress.

The blanket barely did anything to keep the chill away. My fingers curled tighter over my stomach as I worried for the poor little things's safety. I couldn't let anything happen to these babies.

Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of something heading for my side, and I hurriedly ducked, turning in bed, letting the kick attack my back instead. Pain shot up my spine, but I was so relieved to have protected my stomach. My back, on the other hand, hurt like hell

Mary.

She was a dark-skinned, big, mean, and empty-headed woman who was, unfortunately, one of my inmates. The kind of woman who liked to pick fights just because she could. She sneered down at me, her brown eyes filled with something close to amusement.

"Why the hell you curlin' up like that?" she muttered, tilting her head. "Acting like a damn rat in a corner."

I didn’t answer. I was too busy holding my breath, waiting for the pain to settle as her body heat smell had me on the verge of throwing up.

Mary hissed, annoyed at how I snubbed her. "Whatever. One of the guards said you got a visitor."

My head snapped up upon hearing that.

A visitor?

I scrambled to my feet so fast my legs almost gave out. I finally have a visitor, and hopefully, it's... him. I rushed to the cell gate, gripping the cold metal bars. "Who is it?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Mary rolled her eyes. "How the hell should I know? Just hurry up and get lost."

I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. As soon as the guard unlocked the gate, I stepped out, my heart pounding hard against its ribcage. My feet felt unsteady, my breath shallow as I nervously walked towards the visiting area.

I followed the guard down the narrow hallway. My fingers were twitching. My heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest.

It had to be him.

Please, please let it be him.

I stepped into the visitation room, and my heart leapt for joy when I saw,

Mason.

He stood near the table, arms crossed, his face unreadable. His dark, short hair was neatly styled, and his jaw looked tense. His dark brown eyes locked onto me but were not as warm as they used to be; they were cold and distant.

I swallowed hard upon noticing that.

For a second, hope bloomed in my chest. Maybe he finally believed me. Maybe Zoe told him the truth.

I took a shaky step forward. "Mason," I whispered.

His eyes focused on me, but his expression remained the same. He pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit.

I did. My hands clenched in my lap. "Did Zoe talk to you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mason's eyes seemed even more tense, as I mentioned Zoe first. But then his expression turned void again as he rested his arms on the table. "Why were you sleeping with my stepfather?"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "What?" My voice cracked.

He didn’t blink. "Why were you fucking him under my roof?"

My stomach twisted so hard I thought I might throw up. My fingers dug into my thighs, my breathing uneven as I tried to stop myself from crying. "Mason, that's not true." My voice shook. "I didn’t—"

"Don't lie to me." His voice was suddenly sharp, like a blade cutting through my skin. Tears welled up in the back of my eyes as I failed at controlling my emotions. I shook my head, my hands starting to tremble. "I swear, I never—"

"Then why did you kill him?"

"I didn't--" I froze.

My throat tightened, and my breath caught in my chest. The words wouldn’t come out. I couldn't expose Zoe like that; I had to protect her.

Mason exhaled, shaking his head. He leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight. "You can’t even deny it, can you?"

I wiped at my face, my vision blurring from the tears. "Mason, I—"

"Save it." His voice was cold, empty.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a stack of papers. He placed them on the table and slid them toward me. A pen followed.

With a confused expression, I stared at the papers and froze when I saw the word Divorce written in bold letters.

I stared at his signature at the bottom of the page, my heart crumbling inside me.

"I only married you to go against my mother," Mason said, "And after that, I got tired of playing the good husband; I was always going to do this."

My throat closed up. My chest felt like it was caving in.

I looked at him, searching his face for something—anything—but all I saw was the same coldness that had been there since the moment he walked in.

Tears spilled down my cheeks. My fingers hovered over the papers. "You really believe I cheated on you?" My voice broke.

He didn’t answer.

"You really think I would do that to you?" I choked out as I gripped the edge of the table. "After everything?”

Mason’s jaw ticked. He didn’t look at me.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my stomach. I wanted to tell him. Right there.

But I couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not when he looked at me like I was nothing.

I wiped my tears and picked up the pen. My fingers hovered over the paper. My eyes flicked back to Mason, hoping, praying he would say something.

Anything.

But he just watched. Silent. Waiting.

He was anticipating.

I angrily tried to force my hand to move, to sign, to end this marriage.

But I couldn’t.

The pen slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the table. My throat tightened as I shook my head. "I can’t," I whispered, my voice barely there. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked up at him. "I won’t sign it."

Mason let out a low, bitter laugh. "You won’t?" He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his lips curling into something close to amusement. "You really think you have a say in this?"

I wiped at my face, my shoulders shaking. "Mason, please, just listen to me—"

"Listen to you?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You want me to listen to you after what you did?" His eyes darkened with rage. "You fucked my goddamn stepfather, Lydia. My stepfather." His voice rose. "And of all people, you chose that total shithole."

My nails dug into my palms. "I didn’t—"

"Shut up," he snapped. His fingers curled into fists on the table. "You disgust me."

This time, I gave up and let the tears stream down my cheeks. "I never touched him," I whispered. "I swear to —"

"You think your words mean anything to me?" He let out a harsh breath, his jaw tightening. "Let me tell you something, Lydia."

Mason leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "If you think for a second that I was faithful to you, you’re dumber than I thought."

A sick feeling settled in my stomach.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Jasmin."

My heart clenched.

"You remember her, don’t you?" he continued, tilting his head. "The one you were always a little jealous of? The one you used to watch whenever she got too close?" He let out a low chuckle. "You were right to be jealous."

I shook my head. "No."

"Yes." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper like he was enjoying this. "Every business trip? That was our little getaway." His smirk widened. "And guess what? She just might be fertile, unlike you; after two years, you have never had any signs of pregnancy. But Jasmin just might be pregnant."

The words hit me like a slap to the face.

Pregnant.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my entire body frozen. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. Mason pulled back, watching me. This whole time, and he was the one cheating on me?!

I wiped my face roughly and forced my hands to stay steady. Without another word, I picked up the pen and signed my name. My fingers shook, my throat burned, but I did it.

Mason’s smirk deepened. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I set the pen down carefully as I stared at him now,

"If I ever get out of here," I said hoarsely, "I will be your worst nightmare."

He chuckled, standing up and grabbing the papers. "We’ll see about that."

Then, without another glance, he turned and walked away.