A Mother's Vengeance

The torrential rain hammered my face, sharp and piercing like needles. I cradled Alice's lifeless body as I walked through the rain all through the night. Soaked to the skin, the cold gnawed deep into my bones, yet I dared not loosen my grip, fearing that if I did, she would truly be lost forever. When I pushed open the door, the hallway light blazed harshly. Dylan Lynn sat on the sofa, clad in a suit, not a single raindrop on him. He shot me a quick glance, his brow tightly furrowed. "Are you finished making a scene?" His voice was as cold as the rain outside, "Parading about with a corpse—don't you find that shameful?" My throat tightened, and no sound came out; I could only fix my gaze on him. This is our daughter, his own flesh and blood—little Alice, only three years old. How could he speak so callously about her? "Speak," Dylan Lynn stood up impatiently and kicked the nearby coffee table. The glass shattered across the floor, shards scattering everywhere. "Because you're useless, failed to take care of the child, and now you want to use her to blackmail me?" "Blackmail?" I finally forced out a voice, hoarse and scarcely my own. "Dylan, that is Alice." "I know it was her." With a face as cold as stone, he tossed a document from his briefcase onto the table, "The divorce agreement—I've already signed it." I froze, staring at the harsh divorce agreement, my heart gripped fiercely as if by a cruel hand. "Why?" I asked. "Why?" Dylan Lynn sneered, his eyes brimming with scorn, "Because you can't even care for a child, and you've stood in the way between me and Rachel and Leo." Rachel was his nanny, and Leo was their illegitimate child. I had heard the rumors for a long time but refused to believe them. "Alice is gone, and you're not thinking about how to send her off one last time—you only care about divorce?" My voice trembled, not from fear, but from heartbreak. "Then what? Keep someone as unlucky as you in this house?" Dylan Lynn stepped closer, his voice threatening. "Sign the papers, and I'll give you some money. Don't sign, and you get nothing." I looked at him, suddenly feeling this man before me was utterly unfamiliar. "And," he added, his gaze icy, "kneel and apologize to Rachel and Leo." "Apologize?" I retorted, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lips, "Why should I apologize?" "Because you have occupied Mrs. Lynn's place for so long, causing Rachel and her son to suffer." Dylan Lynn's tone brooked no argument: "Either you kneel and apologize by signing, or you walk away empty-handed. I won't have anything to do with Alice's funeral arrangements." He wielded his power with precision, knowing that Alice was what I cared for most. I did not argue. I stooped to retrieve the divorce agreement from the floor, took up the pen, and signed my name—Laura Scott—in the column for Party B. My handwriting was faint, but it drained every ounce of my strength. "The inscription is finished." I handed him the agreement. "I want to take Alice for cremation. I will keep her ashes." Dylan Lynn took the agreement, scanned it briefly, and nodded approvingly. "Do as you please." He waved his hand, as if shooing away flies. "Hurry up and take her away. Don't stain my place." I cradled Alice in my arms and turned to leave the place I once called "home." The rain outside had not ceased, but the storm within me seemed to have finally passed.