Mistaken Identity: Dream and Love Consumed by Fire

Before Harriet could finish, I slapped her across the face.

She crumpled to the floor, ready to curse, but footsteps approached.

Tears immediately flooded her eyes. She whimpered, "Serena, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept Damian all night. Hit me if it helps. Just don't be mad. I'll do anything to make it right."

I scowled, words forming, but a furious voice cut through the air. "Serena, you've gone too far!"

Damian stormed in, his face a mask of rage as he pulled Harriet into his protective embrace. "Her arm ached all night. It was from the scar she got saving me. I stayed to ease it, and you assaulted her? Pregnancy doesn't excuse cruelty. How can you be so vicious?"

He hurled a cake box to the ground. The delicate layers smashed, the "Happy 3rd Anniversary" written in cream smeared into a ruined mess.

Today was our wedding anniversary. I'd forgotten it, but he remembered.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and met his cold stare. The truth clawed at me, desperate to escape.

"Are you so sure Harriet saved you? What if..." I started.

"Damian!" Harriet wailed, cutting me off. "Serena slapped me so hard. And my hand hurts so much."

The last bit of warmth vanished from Damian's eyes. He snapped at me, "No excuses. I'm taking her to the hospital. Stay here."

He lifted her and strode out without a backward glance.

I smiled bitterly, clasping the divorce agreement in my hand.

He called me vicious, oblivious to the fact that I'd traded my dreams and my family for his safety.

In our bedroom, I unlocked the safe and retrieved a ring, the token he'd pressed into my palm back then as the flames roared around us. It was his final act of gratitude before he fainted.

Harriet claimed I had no proof, but this ring, safeguarded for seven years, was my evidence.

Damian valued gratitude above all, so I'd never used it to force him to do anything.

I'd once believed his affection was real. Now it was all just a lie.

But love or gratitude didn't matter anymore. It was time to let go.

Clutching the ring, the divorce agreement, and the abortion report, I walked out of the room.

The secretary approached me. "Madam, here is your medication from Mr. Patton."

"I don't need it anymore," I said, thrusting the ring and documents into his hands. "Pass these to him. Tell him I'm returning the ring he gave me seven years ago. I'm done, and I won't see him again."

He flipped through the papers, his face draining of color as he registered the content.

By the time he looked up, I was already gone.

Panicked, he sprinted to the hospital.

"Sir, emergency! Mrs. Patton terminated her pregnancy and is heading to the airport!" Bursting into the room, he met Damian's glare and thrust the ring forward. "She returns the ring you gave her seven years ago. Says goodbye forever."