He Strapped Bombs to Our Babies—for Her

An hour passed. I sat alone at our table, wine glass in hand, watching Niccolo twirl Margot across the ballroom like they belonged on the cover of some cursed magazine.

I sipped my wine slowly. But in my chest, Eli’s laugh played like a ghost. I remembered the way he used to run up to me barefoot in the kitchen, cheeks full of frosting. The sound of his tiny voice saying, "Mama, look what I made."

‘I swear to you, Eli… I’ll tear down everything they ever built. But first, I need to walk out of this cage alive.’

“Another glass, Mrs. Salvacion?” A waiter leaned close, offering another glass. But Niccolo saw.

From across the room, his hands dropped from Margot’s waist mid-spin. His stare pinned me like a sniper’s scope. Possessive. Cold. Boiling.

Next second, he was striding across the marble, brushing Margot off without a word. He grabbed my arm.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed. “You're my wife. Not some bored debutante making eyes at waiters.”

I calmly pulled my hand from his grip. “Maybe if you remembered that before, we wouldn’t be like this.”

And I walked off. Straight to the powder room, clutching nothing but a pulse steady with rage.

I shut the door behind me, but it didn’t take long. Margot slithered in seconds later, shutting the door behind her.

“Well, look at you,” she said, voice too sweet. “Still playing queen in a house where no one listens to you.”

I didn’t speak.

“I mean, you couldn't even protect your own son,” she continued. “What kind of mother lets her child die like that?”

My hand curled slowly at my side.

“He was just a kid,” she went on, smile stretching. “Six, right? That’s how old he was? Must’ve screamed when the bomb started ticking. Did he cry for you?”

That was the last straw. I lunged, hand raised to knock her head sideways but she beat me to it.

She slammed her own palm into her cheek. Then again. Hard. She scratched her collarbone, let out a guttural sob, and threw herself against the sink.

Then she screamed.

“Help! Help me! Geneva—she’s gone crazy!”

Margot bolted out of the powder room, her sobs echoing like a siren.

Makeup smeared, red finger marks rising on her cheek, her neckline clawed up like she’d escaped a beast. She collapsed to the floor of the ballroom just as Niccolo arrived.

He caught her mid-fall. “What happened?” His voice was tight. Rough.

“She attacked me!” Margot sobbed, clutching at his suit. “She grabbed my hair, slammed me into the mirror. Look at me!”

Niccolo’s jaw clenched. “Smith! Get Geneva out of there. Now.”

Two of his men pushed into the powder room. I didn’t fight. What was the point? They dragged me out by the arms, heels scraping across the tiles.

Eyes turned. Conversations died.

Every pair of eyes in the hall snapped to me—some scandalized, some gleaming with gossip. Others pretending to look away but watching every second.

Margot was now on the ground in front of her parents, trembling and crying like some shattered porcelain doll.

“Oh my poor baby!” her mother cried, cradling her like a child.

“This is what she’s been enduring all this time,” her father said with fake sorrow, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “She’s always been too forgiving.”

Niccolo’s grandmother was already storming forward, lips tight with venom.

“Shameful!” she spat, eyes raking over me. “You humiliated this family. In front of all our allies. You’ll bring our name to ruin!”

Then Niccolo’s grandfather—slammed his cane hard against the marble floor.

“I tolerated your cold face,” he growled, “but hurting an innocent guest? On our name’s night? You’re no longer welcome in this family!”

I looked at all of them. My throat burned, my chest rising and falling like I was standing on the edge of a building about to jump. Then I snapped.

“Innocent?” My voice rang out like a cracked bell. “You want to talk about innocent?”

I looked directly at Niccolo. “She’s the reason Eli’s dead.”

Silence.

A thick, suffocating silence wrapped the room. Even the musicians stopped tuning their instruments.

I stared at him, tears stinging, fury shaking through my ribs. “She fed you lies about him not being yours. She hated him. And now he’s gone.”

Niccolo’s brows pulled together, confusion warring with something darker.

Margot’s voice suddenly shot out like a blade.

“She’s lying! I—I saw Eli this afternoon,” she cried. “He was running around at some doctor’s house! She’s delusional! She’s cursing her own son just to make me look bad!”

She turned to the crowd, sobbing harder. “Look what she did to me. Look at this—this isn’t a woman. She’s insane!”

And that was all it took. Niccolo’s eyes flared. He marched toward me. I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even flinch when his hand came down like thunder across my face.

Slap.

Then again.

Slap.

The third one cracked across my mouth. The fourth sent me backward, head snapping sideways.

And the fifth, sharp and ruthless, landed so hard it made the floor tilt.

My knees buckled.

Blood filled my mouth as my cheek burned. I collapsed to the marble, one palm catching me just barely, eyes on the floor. Niccolo carried Margot out bridal style while the entire hall watched, some clapping, some murmuring.

I stayed on the floor.

+++

I don’t even remember how I got home. One minute I was on cold marble, the next I was staring at the ceiling in our room. My cheek throbbed, my lip was cracked. But none of it hurt more than what he did to my heart. That was the last time I cried for Niccolo Salvacion.

One tear. One breath. That was all he had left of me.

Then my phone rang.

I didn’t want to answer, but I did.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice came through, upbeat. “Is this Miss Geneva Villacruz Salvacion?”

“Yes…”

“At last! Your father will be thrilled to hear it.”

I sat up slowly. “My father?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m his lawyer and personal secretary. He’s been searching for you for years. We finally found you.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Miss Geneva, when you’re ready… I’ll send you his number and address. He wants to meet you. He’s been waiting a long time.”

The call ended. I stared at the screen, heart pounding. For the first time in a long time… something felt like hope.