Amara left prison without a large amount of money, without a phone, and without anyone picking her up. She began to feel as if her life had returned to zero, a point where she had no one to hold on to.
Amara tried to borrow someone else's phone at the bus stop, attempting to contact Richard. However, there was no answer.
She called repeatedly, because Richard's number was the only one she remembered. Still, there was no answer.
"Thank you very much, sorry for the trouble." Amara finally returned the phone, feeling that her effort was completely futile.
In the end, she chose to go home by bus on her own.
---
When she arrived, Amara saw that the house was now 100% complete compared to the last time she had left it. Back then, the house had still been new. Amara did not press the doorbell when she entered, her heart racing, her pulse pounding faster.
Because of her excitement at the thought of meeting Vero. The child must have grown so much; he was already seven years old.
"Vero, Mommy's home! Vero, it's Mommy!" Amara put down her bag and hurried up the stairs.
On the second floor, there was an additional room with its door open. That had to be Vero's room. Amara could not wait to go inside.
Sure enough, her son was in the room, playing games by himself.
Amara's heartbeat grew even faster when she saw how closely her son's face resembled her own. She quickly walked over and pulled him into a hug.
"Oh, baby! You've grown so big, sweetheart. Thank God you're okay. Mommy almost went crazy missing you."
Amara sobbed as she hugged Vero, gently stroking his hair and then kissing his forehead.
Everything she had suppressed for seven years spilled out all at once. The child who had once existed only as a shadow could now be touched.
"Who are you? Why did you come into my room without permission?"
Vero's question made Amara freeze for a few seconds. Why was that the question that came out? There was no excitement, no longing. Only unfamiliar eyes looking at her.
"What do you mean, Vero? It's Mommy. You don't recognize Mommy, hmm?" Amara asked while staring at her son.
Amara still hoped that her son had simply forgotten. It was impossible that Richard had never introduced his mother to Vero. Richard must have shown her photo, right? Told him that Amara was his mother.
"Mommy?" Vero frowned. "Is Vero's Mommy's money still there?"
Those words hit Amara harder than anything else. What was happening? Why… why did Vero not recognize her?
"Vero, are you serious about not knowing Mommy? Didn't Daddy ever show you Mommy's picture?" Amara asked as she held both of Vero's shoulders.
"Are you mad at me, Auntie?" Vero whimpered softly, because Amara was gripping his shoulders a little too tightly.
That made Amara immediately loosen her hold.
"I'm sorry, Mommy just… please explain it to Mommy, Vero. Why are you acting like you don't know Mommy? Mommy realizes she wasn't always there for you during these seven years. But it's impossible that Daddy never introduced Mommy to you!"
Vero's expression began to change as he brushed Amara's hands away from his shoulders.
"I don't have a Mommy. I only have Daddy. Besides, who would want a Mommy who's this rough?" Vero said quietly, but his words cut deep.
The child stepped back and looked at Amara once more.
"I already said I don't know you. Don't you understand, Auntie? I don't know you, and I've never had a Mommy!"
"Sweetheart…" Tears fell from Amara's eyes, and Vero ran out of the room in anger.
Amara stood there, confused by the situation before her. She had thought that her first meeting with her son would be warm, just like she had imagined.
Maybe Vero was angry because Amara had never played the role of a mother? Or… did Vero truly not recognize his own mother?
Either way, it still hurt Amara deeply.
Amara left her son's room and entered the bedroom she once shared with Richard. There were not many changes, but the most striking thing was the wedding photo on the wall.
The photo was gone.
There was not a single piece of Amara's clothing in the closet, even though Richard knew she would be coming home soon.
Amara's body slid down to the floor, her mind filled with countless questions. But perhaps she should have realized this long ago, since Richard had never made an effort to secure her freedom.
"Ma'am, is that really you?" a woman greeted her.
Amara turned. "Yes, it's me," she answered the maid. "What's happening in this house, Lia? Why doesn't Vero recognize me at all? Didn't Richard ever introduce me as his mother? Did everyone in this house consider me dead?"
The woman lowered her head. "I—I'm sorry, Ma'am—"
"Answer me. Where is Richard right now?"
"Mr. Richard has gone out of town, Ma'am. I heard that he will be attending an event. He informed me and asked me to take care of Vero. Among all the long-time staff who worked in this house, only I stayed. The others chose to leave, and there are new replacements."
Amara fell silent, her clenched fists filling with an anger she could not describe. Richard chose to attend an event instead of picking her up?
Perhaps, to Richard, Amara's freedom was not that important.
"When will Richard return?" Amara asked.
"He said two days from now, Ma'am."
"Don't tell Richard that I'm home. Make Vero keep my return a secret. Do it now, Lia."
"Yes, Ma'am."
The maid left the room. Amara then walked to a small cabinet and searched for a book that contained the phone number of one of her acquaintances.
Before that, she needed to withdraw some money first to buy a new phone and clothes.
"Richard, bastard. You owe me answers."
Amara wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks, even though she knew the wound in her heart would not heal easily.
Amara realized that if she continued to stay in this house, she would be destroyed before she even had the chance to fight back.
---
Two days later.
Amara waited for someone to arrive at a restaurant. Now, she could finally be herself again.
The clothes that were once a single color and smelled of cheap soap were replaced with branded, expensive outfits. Her face looked far more resolute with reddish lipstick. Before marrying Richard, even after marriage… Amara was a woman who never hesitated to take a step forward.
However, Amara could also be deeply loyal and gentle toward those she loved.
"Ma'am…"
Amara looked up and saw the arrival of a middle-aged man in a black suit. He was Adrian Cole.
"Sit down. There are many things I need to talk about," Amara ordered in a cold tone.
The man pulled out a chair and sat down. "It's been a long time since we last met, Ma'am. Thank you for still being willing to use my services."
Adrian Cole opened the brown folder in front of him. Inside were several sheets of documents that already looked worn, as if they had been stored for a long time, never truly forgotten.
"There's one thing I've wanted to tell you from the beginning," Adrian said quietly, his tone controlled. "But I waited until you were truly ready to hear it."
Amara folded her arms across her chest. "Say it now."
Adrian took a short breath. "While you were in prison, there were several legal decisions signed in your name. Some used old powers of attorney. Some… were not entirely legitimate."
Amara stiffened.
"And all of them involve Mr. Richard's signature." Adrian placed one document on the table.
Amara stared at the document for a long time. Richard's name was printed clearly there—neat, cold, and fully aware of what he had done.
Amara's lips moved. Not a smile. More like a wound that finally split open.
"So," she said softly, her voice flat but trembling with something far more dangerous, "for seven years while I was rotting in prison… he wasn't waiting for me to come home."
Adrian did not answer.
Amara lifted her face and stared straight ahead. There were no tears left. All that remained was an eerie calm, the calm before a storm.
"Starting today, I refuse to be a victim anymore. I want custody of my child back. I want my name cleared. The one thing you need to handle right now is my divorce from Richard."
She looked at Adrian Cole with a cold, unwavering gaze.
"Are you still willing to stand on my side?"
Adrian nodded slowly. "I never truly left, Ma'am."
Amara leaned back against the chair.
"Good," she said softly. "There will be a lot of work for you going forward. I will take my power back and discard them."