Her Voice, Her Revenge

In the dead of night, Judith jolted awake, her skin burning with a sudden, scorching fever.

She tried to call out, but her throat was too raw to make a sound.

Vincent’s room was right next door. Yet he hadn’t come to check on her—not once, his entire focus pinned on Leah.

“Judith, what’s wrong?”

It was a long time before he finally pushed the door open. Seeing her flushed face, his voice softened with concern. “You’re burning up. I’ll send for a doctor right away.”

She opened her mouth to speak when a pained cry echoed from the other room.

“Vincent, my stomach… it hurts so much…”

The moment he heard it, the hands reaching to lift her fell away.

Judith mustered every last ounce of strength to clutch the hem of his robe, her eyes full of silent pleading.

After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled free.

“I’m sorry, Judith. Leah… she’s carrying my child. I can’t let anything happen to her. Wait here—someone else will check on you soon.”

Without another glance, he turned and left.

Burning up and utterly alone, Judith wept until she had no tears left. Summoning her final strength, she reached for the bell by the door and rang it before darkness swallowed her whole.

…

“You’re awake?”

When she opened her eyes, Vincent’s sharply defined face hovered above her. The worry in his eyes seemed genuine, yet it only made her want to laugh.

Judith turned away, unwilling to see him, but the dam in her chest had already broken.

“I’m sorry, Judith. I panicked. I was just so worried—”

“Get out. I don’t want to see you.”

“I’m sorry.” Vincent sighed. “Mother insisted I take good care of Leah and the child. I had no choice. Please, just bear with it a little longer. Once Leah gives birth, I’ll send her away. But for now… please. Do this for the family.”

“Vincent, I just want to ask you one thing.” She turned back, heartache plain in her eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Vincent fell silent, then turned his face away. “Let the past stay in the past.”

*Let the past stay in the past.*

Judith had her answer. A bitter, self-mocking smile touched her lips.

Later, when she finally rose and made her slow way to the kitchen, she found the man who had never lifted a finger for domestic chores clumsily preparing a meal for Leah.

Even during the deepest love they had once shared, he had rarely done this for her. He’d said he valued cleanliness, disliked the smell of smoke and cooking—so for years, she had indulged him, never asking him into the kitchen.

The love just hadn’t been enough.

“You’re back.” He handed her the ingredients beside him as if it were the most natural thing. “Leah wants some chicken broth. I don’t know how to make it. Yours is always good. Make it for her. Just this once.”

“No.” Her voice was cold. “My fever just broke, and you want me to cook for another woman?”

Once again, Vincent’s expression darkened for Leah’s sake.

After all these years together, Judith knew exactly what that look meant. For Ariana’s sake, and for the divorce papers to take effect, she had to endure it. For now.

In silence, she took the ingredients and began to prepare the soup, serving them like a maid.

The irony was bitter. Here she was, the lawful wife, making soup for the other woman.

As she cooked, a splash of scalding broth landed on the back of her hand. She flinched and glanced over, hoping for some reaction. Instead, she saw Vincent feeding a peeled grape to Leah’s waiting lips.

She suddenly remembered he used to do the same for her.

*“What have I done to deserve being served by you, my lord?”*

He had laughed then, his hands never stopping. *“If it pleases you, Judith, I’d serve you for a lifetime.”*

And now…

A tear fell, unexpected, into the simmering soup. She wondered if it would make the broth taste salty.

Quietly, she wiped her eyes, lifted a bowl of soup, and walked out.