Goodbye, I'm Not Yours Anymore

"Amelia—"

“Mr. Rodrigo! Miss Caroline collapsed in the lobby!” Ryker announced, breathless.

Favio bolted out the door like his life depended on it.

I followed—slowly.

By the time I reached the hallway, he was already on the marble floor, cradling Caroline in his arms like a scene out of some tragic romance movie. Panic etched across his face like war paint.

“Why are you all just standing there?” he barked. “Get the damn doctor up here now!”

The hotel staff scattered like ants. Paramedics swarmed in. A team of private doctors—each probably charging more per hour than most CEOs—was ushered into Caroline’s luxury suite.

Within minutes, Favio was pacing beside her bed, hovering over the doctor like a rabid executive in a crumbling boardroom.

“You said she’d be fine if she followed the prescription! So why the hell did she faint again?!”

The doctor, a calm man with gray hair and diamond cufflinks, gave a smile too rehearsed to be sincere.

“Relax, Mr. Rodrigo. She’s perfectly healthy. In fact—congratulations. Miss Caroline is two months pregnant.”

Silence.

And then… joy.

Raw, unfiltered joy lit up Favio’s face like he’d just closed a billion-dollar merger. Like every dream he'd ever had was suddenly cradled in Caroline’s womb. Like he didn't killed my child for his whore.

I stood there frozen.

Not because I was shocked.

Because I already knew.

I’d seen them. More than once. Twice in the guesthouse. Once in the elevator when they thought I wasn’t home. Another time when I’d come back early from a checkup and heard the creaking from behind the guest room door—their breathless laughter after.

But I told myself lies. Sweet ones. Like a fool clinging to a burning curtain.

"It’s just the hormones," I whispered. "You’re fragile, Amelia. The OB-GYN said no sex until the second trimester. He’s just venting. Just relieving heat... He still loves you."

But love doesn’t look like that.

Love doesn’t sound like her moaning his name while I held onto our unborn child in a bed soaked with worry and blood.

And after the embryo incident—something inside me snapped awake. My eyes opened. Wide. Brutal. Unforgiving.

So now, I just watched him. Smiling. Glowing. Beaming over a child he created while mine was being taken from me.

Caroline shifted slightly and clung to his shirt like a lover in a soap opera. And he let her. He kissed her forehead and murmured something I didn’t even want to hear.

I said nothing.

Because now… now I knew everything. And knowledge is a far crueler weapon than heartbreak ever could be.

Mrs. Cunningham swept into the suite like she owned the entire damn floor, heels clicking like a war drum.

“Oh, my sweet Caroline! Pregnant already? You’re simply radiant—our little miracle-maker!” She grabbed Caroline’s hand with both of hers like she was presenting her with a crown.

Favio smiled at her with eyes that used to belong to me. The kind of look that made you feel chosen.

I turned away.

I wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

“Amelia,” Caroline called sweetly behind me, voice dripping with venom masked in sugar. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

I paused.

She knew what she was doing. That smug curve in her lips, the satisfied glint in her eye. But before I could say anything, Mrs. Cunningham—always waiting for a moment to strike—cut in like she was born for it.

“Oh, don’t force her to pretend,” she said with a laugh. “She’s probably still bitter about the whole… falling down the stairs and losing the baby situation.”

My stomach clenched.

“She tried and failed, and now the doctor says she won’t be getting pregnant ever again.” She tsked. “Such a shame, really. All that effort, and nothing to show for it. Caroline here gets it done in one try. That’s a real woman.”

She turned to me with mock pity. “I mean, darling… some women were just meant to be mothers. Others? Well. Some people are just… built for tragedy.”

Caroline giggled as if it was the best joke she'd ever heard. And Favio? He just stood there.

Silent.

Didn’t defend me. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe in my direction. He was too busy holding Caroline’s hand.

Then Caroline bent her neck.

A silver chain dangled there—my necklace.

The one my mother gave me. The one I wore at her funeral. The one that survived the car crash that killed her. The last real piece of her I had left.

And now it was draped across Caroline’s throat like some accessory off a clearance rack.

My heart dropped.

I stepped forward, voice shaking. “Where did you get that?”

Before she could answer, Favio moved in front of her, blocking me.

“Amelia, don’t start. Caroline’s pregnant. Don’t get hysterical over a necklace.”

I blinked, stunned. “You know what that necklace means to me.”

He looked away. “I’ll buy you another. Hell, I’ll get you hundreds”

“That’s not the point, Favio!” I said, voice cracking. “It’s not just jewelry. It’s the only thing I have left of her.”

Caroline smirked, fingers rising to unclasp it. “Relax. You’re acting like it’s sacred or something.”

She let it fall. A soft clink as the chain hit the marble.

Then she stepped on it. Pressed her Louboutin heel into the pendant until it snapped.

Snap.

I didn’t even think. My hand flew before reason could catch it.

Crack.

Her head jerked to the side. A red mark already blooming on her cheek.

“You psycho bitch!” she screeched, stumbling back.

And then—Mrs. Rodrigo was on me.

Her perfectly manicured hand yanked my arm, and the next thing I knew, she shoved me hard against the wall like she’d been waiting for years to do it.

“How dare you lay a finger on her!” she spat. “No wonder you lost your baby—you probably threw yourself down the stairs for attention!”

I gasped, wind knocked from my lungs. But then Favio grabbed me. Yanked me away from his mother.

For a second, I thought—finally. He’d defend me.

He didn’t.

Instead—

SLAP.

The sound echoed off the walls like gunfire. I tasted copper. My cheek stung.

My eyes met his, wide and trembling. “You hit me.”

His voice was ice. “You put your hands on Caroline again, I'll kill you.”