No Grave for the Donna

I hung up and, ignoring the doctor's protests, went straight home.

When I pushed open the bedroom door, I found Scarlett draped over Julian.

She was wearing only one of his silk shirts, three buttons undone. The thin fabric clung to the curves of her body, leaving little to the imagination.

She wore no bra, and her soft breasts were pressed against Julian's arm, creating a deliberate friction with his every breath.

Julian sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, a document in his hand and a slight frown on his face.

He tried to pull his arm away, his voice laced with helplessness. "Scarlett, go put on some clothes. You're not a child. I'm your protector, but you can't parade around me like this."

Scarlett didn't retreat.

She pressed herself even closer, melting into his side. She pouted, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

"Julian, don't you want me anymore? Am I a bother now?"

"I just wanted a hug. You used to love hugging me. Did I do something wrong?" Her voice broke into a pathetic whimper.

That cloyingly sweet, baby-doll voice, coming from that mature, seductive body, was sickening.

His resolve crumbled.

He stopped pushing her away, sighed, and reached out to pat her back. "Stop crying. I didn't mean it like that. Of course I don't want you to leave. I promised to take care of you."

Scarlett buried her face in his neck with a satisfied hum.

But from an angle Julian couldn't see, she lifted her head and locked her gaze with mine.

There was no trace of a patient’s vulnerability in those eyes—only naked provocation and triumph.

I didn't rush in to tear them apart as I once would have. I simply stood there, ice in my veins.

Julian finally noticed me.

He shot up as if electrocuted, shoving Scarlett away so forcefully she stumbled against the bedside table.

Ignoring her cry of pain, he strode toward me, his face a mask of panic and concern. "Darling, you're back? How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?"

He tried to cover his awkwardness by reaching for me. "Don't just stand there, come lie down. Just now… Scarlett was having a tantrum. She's a patient, don't mind her."

I sidestepped, evading his touch.

He had just touched that woman's skin. Revulsion churned in my stomach.

Julian’s hand hung in the air for a moment before he awkwardly let it fall.

He took a deep breath, his voice gentle and placating. "I know you're upset. About the baby… I'm heartbroken too. But we have to look forward. The doctor said it was an accident. Once you've recovered, we can have another child."

I sneered inwardly. There will be no more children.

But I couldn't be bothered to argue. I just gave a silent, hollow nod.

Seeing my nod, he let out a sigh of relief. "Then get some rest. I have to go to my study to handle some family business."

I nodded, returned to my room, and began to pack. Half an hour later, two suitcases were full.

After packing, I thought of the nursery.

It held everything I had prepared for our son, Leo, over the past five months, including an antique cradle I had restored myself.

Even though the child was gone, I wanted to take the cradle with me.

But when I pushed open the door, my blood ran cold.

The nursery was a wasteland.

The crib Julian had assembled was overturned. The stuffed animals in the corner were ripped to shreds, their cotton entrails scattered across the floor.

The mural I had painted was defaced with streaks of red paint that dripped down the wall like blood.

And the tiny clothes I cherished, along with the antique cradle, were now a shredded pile at Scarlett's feet.

She held a box cutter in her hand.

She stood in the middle of the wreckage, calmly slicing the last pacifier to ribbons.

Hearing the door open, she turned.

The innocent mask was gone.

She toyed with the cutter, her eyes vicious and cruel, a brutal smile playing on her lips.

"Oops, you found me."

Her voice was no longer that sickening baby-doll tone, but laced with mockery.

"Such a pity, all these lovely things." She ground the pile of tattered cloth under her heel. "But it doesn't matter. That little bastard won't be needing them. They were an eyesore anyway. I got rid of them for you. You should thank me."

I stared at her, my nails digging into my palms. "You've been faking it."

"And you're just now realizing it?" Scarlett laughed, her body shaking. "Only a moron like Julian would believe I have PTSD. But thanks to you being just as stupid and believing every lie, I got to play this game for three years."

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How did that poison taste?"

"It's a shame you didn't die. But I am so glad that bastard in your belly did."

Smack!

I slapped her across the face with every ounce of strength I had.

Scarlett's head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of her mouth.

But she didn't retaliate. Instead, a triumphant smile spread across her face.

The next second, she let out a piercing scream and hurled herself backward, crashing into a glass display cabinet in the hallway.

"Ah—! Eleanora, don't kill me! I'm sorry!"

"Scarlett!" Julian's horrified roar echoed from downstairs.

He rushed over and gathered the whimpering Scarlett, who had collapsed among the glass shards, into his arms.

Covered in bloody scratches, she trembled in his embrace and pointed a shaking finger at me at the top of the stairs.

"Julian… Eleanora is trying to kill me… She said I killed the baby…"

"I just accidentally broke something in the nursery… and she pushed me…"

Julian's head snapped up, his gaze locking on me.

His eyes were filled with disbelief and a boiling rage.

"Eleanora! Are you out of your mind?"

He roared, "She's a patient! Even if she broke something, you don't throw her into a glass cabinet! You could have killed her!"

I stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the pathetic pair.

"She's not sick. It's an act. She destroyed the nursery. She poisoned me. She just admitted it!"

Seeing my cold expression and the hatred in my eyes, a flicker of doubt crossed Julian's face.

He looked down at Scarlett and asked sternly, "Did you throw yourself?"

"I didn't! My head hurts so much…" Scarlett switched back to her weak, whimpering persona, looking at me in terror and shaking her head frantically. "Julian, it wasn't me! I'm not a bad girl… Julian, don't throw me away…"

Seeing her apparent pain and fear, Julian's flicker of doubt hardened into heartache and anger.

"That's enough, Eleanora. How can you slander her like this?"

Julian saw the mockery in my eyes, and his tone softened into a condescending lecture. "I know losing the baby has left you traumatized, but I saw the state she was in after she was shot. She couldn't be faking. She's a patient. Maybe she wanted to look at the baby's things and broke them by accident. How could you hurt her?"

"Apologize to Scarlett now, and I'll pretend this never happened."

Apologize? To her?

Killing her wouldn't be enough to sate the rage inside me, and he wanted me to apologize.

In that moment, the last wisp of love I had for Julian was extinguished.

I descended the stairs, step by step.

Julian, thinking I was about to apologize, breathed a sigh of relief.

But I simply stopped in front of him and said calmly, "Julian, our marriage is over."