Chapter 3Your Hate, My Farewell

The message had barely sent when I heard faint laughter echoing from upstairs. Rain lashed against the window, like countless tiny needles pricking my heart.

At three in the morning, I got up to pour myself some water in the kitchen. In the darkness, Scarlett suddenly appeared before me.

“Evie, still awake so late? Oh, that’s right. Your mom’s dead, your baby’s gone, and even your last shred of dignity has been trampled by Andrew. Of course you can’t sleep.”

I slammed the water glass onto the counter. “Scarlett, Andrew has so many women. Why are you so fixated on me?”

She poked my shoulder. “How could those other women compare to you, Evie? Are you angry? How about we play a little game?” The next second, she turned and walked towards the balcony. “Evie, what do you think would happen if I jumped from here?”

Before I could react, she had already climbed onto the balcony railing. “Ah! Evie, don’t push me!” My instincts took over, and I lunged, grabbing her arm.

Just then, Andrew’s furious roar erupted from behind me. Scarlett’s body leaned backward, her terrified eyes reflecting my outstretched hand. Just like all those years ago.

Andrew’s blood ran cold in that second. Memories flooded him like a tidal wave. Ten years ago, on a rainy night, he stood downstairs, watching his mother fall from the window. And in the window, my father’s silhouette flickered past. And now, I stood in the same position, my fingers almost touching Scarlett’s shoulder.

“No!”

His rage exploded like magma, incinerating his last shred of reason. How dare I? How dare I use the same method, once again, to take someone he cared about! In his vision, my face slowly overlapped with my father’s cold countenance. Of course, we shared the same blood.

The next second, a massive force sent me sprawling to the ground. Andrew seized my throat, pressing me against the wall. “You and your father, you’re both murderers!”

“No, it was her own choice.” I managed to gasp, the words raw and strained.

Scarlett cried out, throwing herself forward to clutch Andrew’s leg. “Andrew! I’m so scared! Evie suddenly said she would make me pay, that she would push me off!”

The butler, Mr. Finch, rushed in at the sound, desperately pulling at Andrew’s arm. “Sir! Sir, calm down! Miss Scarlett is unharmed!”

I clutched my throat, my voice hoarse. “The security… the security footage…”

“Enough!” Andrew bellowed. “I saw you standing behind her with my own eyes! My mother was killed by your father in the very same way!” He wouldn’t even listen to an explanation.

It was always like this. Three years ago, it was like this, and now it was like this again. He would always only believe the truth he decided upon, never giving anyone else a chance to speak. But the cruelest irony was this: If he hated me so much, why wouldn’t he let me go? My mother was dead, I had endured endless humiliation for three years, and I had even lost our child. Wasn’t all that enough? Did I have to die to repay his mother’s life?

Andrew finally calmed down after hearing Mr. Finch’s voice. He left, holding Scarlett, with a chilling “Be careful” for me. After his footsteps completely faded down the hallway, the old butler dared to step forward and help me, where I was slumped on the floor.

“Madam, please don’t blame the master. He just… he doesn’t recognize his own heart!” The butler’s voice was filled with a poignant sadness. “All these years, everyone at the estate has seen it. The master’s study drawer still holds the gifts you gave him, the jasmine scent you love is replenished precisely on time every month, and your favorite foods…”

Doesn’t recognize his own heart? I remembered Andrew’s furious eyes as he choked me. I remembered Scarlett’s triumphant smile as she wore my mother’s locket. I remembered the moans from my phone, the night our unborn child turned to blood.

Enough. Three years of enduring, of conceding, of pain—it was all enough. I pulled my arm from the butler’s grasp and walked towards the bedroom.

The next morning, I opened my eyes. My phone screen lit up, a text from Attorney Miller. I stared at it for three seconds, then, with a faint, detached smile, I opened my contacts.

“Andrew Hayes, I need to see you.”

This time, I would not hesitate, I would not be soft-hearted. Either we would go to hell together. Or I would personally tear apart the lies of these past three years.

My phone screen lit up, Andrew’s name flashing. “3 PM, Northwood Studios, Stage 7. Kneel and apologize to Scarlett, or you’ll never see your mother’s ashes again.”