Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum

ique on Fifth Avenue, the air

d sister-swiping my husband' s

the neonatal equipment during my ho

a drug addict who killed my

her; he locked me in a high-security psy

she took my life, my husband, and paraded a c

r, protecting their image ove

agile socialite who would cr

m here to beg

drive from my clutch and

Alivia?" I whispered, my voic

the forensic report prov

is over

here to r

urn your empir

pte

for the exact moment Alivia Marsh would be at the Fifth Avenue luxury boutique, swiping Carter

ty in Nevada had stripped away the softness, leaving behind only edges. My designer dress, a sharp, emerald green that contrasted with my pale skin

Alivia, a vision of false innocence in a cascade of ivory lace, turned from

ough soft, cut through

or, twisted her porcelain features. She clutched the wedding dress to her chest, a

r voice was a trembling whisper, per

ver the opulent fabric, then back to her face, devoid of any warmth. "I suppos

rvous glances. The other shoppers, initially perturbed by the intrusion, now

wns. His hair was the color of autumn leaves, his eyes a startling shade of blue. Alivi

uncomprehending. He reached for Alivia' s

away from us, Kylie! You're not well. You shouldn't be here." Her voice

r phones, snapping photos, recording snippets. This w

ite who would have crumbled under such an accusation. But that

freshly escaped from the asylum. It was her go-to script, the one Carte

simply inconvenient that I remembered where Carter' s Black Card was hidden? Just like how I remembered that yo

so composed, fractured. Her eyes darted wildly, her grip on the child tig

, her voice thin and reedy. The practiced t

g it up, "is a copy of the clinic's unpaid invoices. The ones for the neonatal resuscitation equipment that 'malfunctioned' during my home birth

mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked less like a fragile philanthropist now and more like a cornered snak

ice cut through the chaos. "What

rt

me in, were now sharp with fury. He saw Alivia, pale and trembling with the child, then his gaze landed on me, cold and condemning.

le, reassuring. "Are you alright, sweetheart? What did she do?" His voice, usually so controlled, was la

d, the child he believed was his heir. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was the CEO of Fletcher Enterprises, a man w

he distraught "fiancée," the protective "hero," and the "madwoman" who dared di

oice low, dangerous. "Have you forgotten your treatment so soon? Are y

mentally unstable, trying to discredit my words before they could even fully form. It was gasl

t very well. Three years of it. Enough time to get very, very clear on who belongs where." My eyes flicker

passive one. He pointed a small finger at me. "Mean lady!" he cried, h

n her eyes. "See? Even Leo knows," she whispe

ce of that child, used as a pawn in her cruel game. My own son, my little bo

ever Jonas Carrillo dug you out from. Otherwise, I will ensure you regret this, every single second of it." He pulled Alivia and the c

wd lean in further. "You want to talk about regret, Carter? I regret fifteen years. Every single one." My eyes burned into his, a desperate, final plea for him to see beyond the manipulati

h, each word a stone falling into a deep, dark well. "We

uldn't. He thought I was still the weak, clinging woman he had locked away. "Don't be dramatic, Kylie. This is just a

o subtly contain me as if I were a child having a tantrum. It was his signature move, the g

ins. This wasn't about love anymore. This was about justice. "No, Carter. This is not a stunt. This is an

ent, not just a divorce. It implied the ma

e's desperate." She looked at the crowd, her innocent gaze appealing for their understanding. "She's always been a little unstable, you know.

The same whispers that had led to my confinement, to my son's death being blam

ime, I wou

e fixing on Carter. "Is that what you believe, Carter? That I'm just 'sad'?" My voice, though soft, was laced with an almost imperceptible edge of raw pain. "After everything... after you locked me away, after you l

gazes softening towards me, hardening towards Alivia and Carter. They saw

g! She's always been manipulative, Carter, you know that! She's sick!" She turned t

clenched. He surveyed the crowd, then me, his expression unreadable for a moment. The public's opinion, the Fletcher name,

low, threatening, a clear order. Without waiting for my response, he grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh with surprisi

ng a fragile, broken woman away. But as he pulled me, my eyes met his, a silent, knowing ch

h. "Just... please, tell me. Is it true? Was it all a lie?" My voice was thick w

ce, crossing his face. But before he could respond, Alivia let ou

rushed back to Alivia, who was now cradling the child, his small body convulsing in

d for help, other shoppers scattered, and Alivia wailed, "He nee

l, to rescue. And Alivia, sociopathic and manipulative as she was, knew exactly how to trigger it. My heart, which had just moments ago yearned for a flicker of recognition, now felt like a sh

-worth. It had almost destroyed me. But the years in isolation, the forced introspection, the slow, agonizing process of rebuilding myself, had show

am, manipulated by a monster. And I, Kylie Ro