"Mabel, I warned you…"
The voice of her teenage self echoed in her mind, soft but piercing.
She stood frozen, her lips parted, yet no words came. Yes, she had failed to listen.
The memory returned like a violent wave—her teenage eyes watching her father assault her mother, leading to her death. The sound of her mother's final cry. The smell of blood in the air. The way her father's eyes had no hint of mercy.
That night, she had run and never looked back. She had changed her name, erased her past, and sworn never to fall into the same trap her mother had. She had worked herself into becoming stronger, smarter—someone who would never need saving.
Yet the past never left her. It lingered in the shadows, whispering in her ear, stealing her trust.
She had never wanted to marry. To her, all men were beasts like her father. But Fred… Fred had been different back then. During courtship, he had showered her with love, patience, and kindness. He had been the first man to make her believe that maybe—just maybe—not all men were monsters.
And for a while, even in marriage, he proved her right. Until recently.
The late nights. The secret phone calls. The sudden coldness in his touch. The signs had been clear. She suspected. And now, minutes ago, Fred had confirmed it himself.
She didn't want to feel guilty about hiring Cleopatra to test him. Her suspicions had been correct. But still… a small part of her whispered that maybe her deep-rooted insecurities had pushed him away.
She clenched her fists. No. That wasn't an excuse. He had promised to protect her, even without knowing her true story. He had promised to stand by her. And now, he had broken every word.
At that moment, Fred's voice sliced through her thoughts.
"You know what? Enough of this childishness that's been going on for weeks," he said, his tone heavy with mockery. "I was sick of the game. I couldn't wait for today so I can finally take over what's mine."
A mischievous smile curled on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Mabel's gaze hardened. "Yours?" she asked, her voice quiet but dangerous. "The company we built together? The home I made with my own sweat? Tell me, Fred, what exactly is yours here?"
He stepped closer, towering over her. "Everything, Mabel. You're acting like you carried this marriage and the business on your own. Newsflash—you didn't."
She let out a bitter laugh. "That's funny coming from a man who just admitted to being caught in bed with another woman. You talk about 'yours,' yet you couldn't even keep your vows."
Fred's smirk didn't falter. "Vows? Don't play the saint. You hired someone to test me. You spied on me. You've been plotting behind my back for months. And you think you're any better?"
Her chest rose and fell. "I did what I had to do to protect myself. Because deep down, Fred, I knew you'd show your true colors."
His eyes narrowed. "You mean the colors you painted me with from the start? You never trusted me, Mabel. Not once. You've been looking for a monster, and when you couldn't find one, you created it."
She swallowed hard, refusing to show how his words cut. "You didn't need my help to destroy us. You did that all by yourself."
Fred gave a short laugh, but there was venom in it. "Keep telling yourself that. Because when this is over, you'll be left with nothing. Not the marriage, not the house, and definitely not the company."
Mabel took a step closer, her eyes locked on his. "We'll see about that."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then Fred smiled again—slow, dangerous. "Yes… we will."
And in that smile, she saw it. The same coldness she had once seen in her father's eyes.
Only this time, she wouldn't run. She was ready to stand and fight. She wouldn't be a coward like her mother.
"I forgot to add one more thing," Fred said, his voice calm, almost casual. "You'll also be left without a life."
Before Mabel could react, something slammed hard into the back of her head.
A sharp pain exploded through her skull, and the world spun violently. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold floor. Her vision blurred, dark shapes moving around her.
Through the haze, she caught a glimpse—a tall, hefty man gripping a thick wooden stick. His face was blank, expressionless, as if he had simply done a job.
Then her gaze shifted, and she saw Fred.
He was smiling.
"Oh, my darling wife," Fred said, crouching down beside her almost lifeless body. His voice dripped with mock affection. "I knew you were smart, so I had to double my own smartness."
Her breathing was shallow, each inhale a struggle. She tried to speak, but her lips trembled instead.
Fred's eyes glinted. "I didn't want it to end this way, you know," he continued, almost like they were having a casual chat. "I never wanted to be a widower at such an early age. But then again…" He chuckled darkly. "A billionaire widower? That doesn't sound so bad."
He leaned closer, close enough for her to smell the expensive cologne she had once bought for him.
"Thank you for securing the Global Investment contract—because that was the only reason I had kept you all this long. And now that it's almost secure, with just my signature remaining, it's time I let you go," he whispered with mock gratitude. "I'll be meeting them today to sign the papers. And boom—overnight, I'll be a multibillionaire. And then you, and your smart ass, will be gone for good."
Her head pounded, and her vision dimmed at the edges.
"It was supposed to be us, if you had kept your smartness to yourself and kept your mouth shut, like most women do," Fred went on, his voice softening briefly before hardening again. "But nah… death wouldn't give you such a privilege."
He tilted his head, studying her pale face as though memorizing it. Then he leaned in even closer, his lips near her ear.
"I'll miss you," he whispered.
For a second, she thought she felt his breath brush against her cheek like a cold wind.
Her rage boiled inside, blood almost covering her eyes, and her hair was wet with it. With every ounce of strength left, she forced out the words.
"Crazy… bastard," Mabel muttered, her voice barely audible.