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Robert yelled, "You bitch! How dare you!"
"Keep it up, and I'll hit you."
I scoffed. "You used to beat me without all this talk. Getting old?"
He stepped forward, but Linda held him back.
She was shrewd, sensing a trap.
"Leave now, or I'll call the cops."
"Let everyone see the real Emma Johnson."
I snapped, "Fine. I'll tell them how you slept your way up."
"And how you framed my mom for adultery, drove her out penniless."
I'd hunted down the "other man"—he'd confessed on video to taking bribes.
Robert turned pale, speechless.
"You drove your wife to suicide for money? Rot in hell."
"Call the cops! See who they believe."
I stormed inside, trashing his antiques.
In Linda's closet, I shredded her designer clothes.
They fumed but did nothing.
Then abdominal pain hit. Weakness overwhelmed me.
Just as I wavered, Chloe screamed, "You bitch! I'll kill you!"
She yanked my hair, slapping my face repeatedly.
I felt no pain—just relief. My pawn had arrived.
When David reached the hospital, a nurse passed with a metal tray.
He recognized the fetal remains—our child.
Robert stammered, "You're young, David. You can have more kids."
"Emma went crazy at our house..."
David grabbed his collar. "You hit her again?"
Linda intervened, but he turned on her.
"Or you? Did you lock her in a cage?"
I lay still, tears soaking the pillow.
He remembered—but too late.
His past actions were thorns in my heart.
David gripped my cold hand, frantic.
"Emma, what happened? Who hurt you?"
"Tell me. I'll make them pay."
I pointed at Chloe, voice hoarse.
"It was her. She killed our baby."
