Her Voice, Her Revenge

Judith remained by the grave through the night. Vincent did not arrive until the following day.

At the sight of Judith’s deathly pale face and the small headstone, he seemed unable to believe it. “Judith… you…”

He rushed forward and pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice thick with concern. “We can have another child, but you’re still recovering. This night air is damp and cold—what if you fall ill?”

Judith let out a bitter laugh. “Another child? Vincent, do you have any idea how much I struggled to conceive this one? The physician said I might never carry another child again!”

Vincent’s expression darkened. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Judith.”

“Why didn’t you come when I called for you?” She pointed at the headstone, her voice ragged. “I waited for you. Where were you?!”

“I’m sorry. There was some official business at the time, so…”

Judith sneered. “Was it really official business? Or was it that little maid of yours who didn’t want you to come?”

With a dull thud, Vincent knelt before their child’s grave, his tone pleading. “Judith, it’s all my fault. I failed you and our child. I’m so sorry…”

Watching the man who seemed consumed by grief, Judith suddenly laughed until tears streamed down her face.

She should have seen it sooner—the nights he never came home, the bouquets sent to her by mistake, the dresses that never quite fit. Everything had been a sign his heart had already wandered.

Yet she had believed his lies.

“You don’t need to apologize. Just send her away, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

“No.” Vincent refused instantly. “Leah is just a poor, lonely girl. She has no one to rely on. How could she survive on her own?”

“Fine,” Judith said, her smile cold.

No longer holding back, she instructed the steward waiting by the carriage to go to the private residence and pack up all of Leah’s belongings. “Throw her out.”

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Vincent panicked. Leaning out, he quickly whispered a few instructions to the steward. “She just refused to give you her blood. You’re the rightful wife—why must you be so cruel?”

“It was *her* blood. She had the right to choose!”

A sharp pain pierced Judith’s heart.

That wasn’t what he’d said back then.

“If you insist on being this ruthless, don’t blame me for what happens to your sister,” Vincent said, his voice low and threatening. “You wouldn’t want to see the book hall she’s worked so hard to build shut down for good, would you?”

He was threatening her with Ariana’s future—all for Leah’s sake.

In that moment, the man before her felt like a complete stranger.

“Stop this, Judith. You need to rest.” He tried to guide her back to the carriage, but Judith opened a document and held it out for him to sign.

“What’s this?”

Judith took a deep breath. “It’s our…”

“It’s fine. I’ll sign anything if it helps you calm down.”

He didn’t even glance at it, simply signing his name on the divorce agreement.

Looking at the familiar, flowing script, Judith remembered the ninety-nine love letters he had written her a decade ago.

Her eyes stung.

“By the way, I picked out some gifts for you. See if there’s anything you like.”

He handed her a thick inventory list—jewels, silks, everything one could imagine. Judith felt nothing.

At the very bottom, she noticed several sets of baby clothes and bedding. Clearly, they weren’t for her.

Just as she was about to speak, a final page slipped from the inventory: a prescription for stabilizing a pregnancy.

The patient’s name, written clearly, was Leah.

Her heart felt ripped out, shredded, then drenched in salt.

Battling a nausea born of heartbreak, Judith stared at the paper expressionlessly for a long moment. Then, she smiled.

What a perfect gift.