---- Chapter 8 At the police station, the fragile alliance of monsters crumbled completely. "It was all her!" Else shrieked at the detectives, her face tear- streaked and blotchy. "Aleida is a manipulative psychopath! She did this to herself to frame us! She probably caused the miscarriage on purpose just to trap Derek!" Derek, sitting in a separate interrogation room, heard her voice through the thin walls. He flinched. The woman he had worshipped, the sister he had committed these atrocities for, was now revealing her true, selfish colors. He had destroyed his life for her, and she was only trying to save herself. He pushed her away. Not just in his mind, but physically, as if she were in the room with him. He was done with her. The foundation of his hatred for me, his loyalty to her, had shattered. All that was left was a gaping hole filled with a guilt he was only beginning to comprehend. Meanwhile, | was in a quiet, private recovery clinic, miles away from the chaos. The physical pain was immense, but the emotional numbness was a strange sort of shield. My friend, Sarah, sat by my bed, her face etched with worry. "You need to rest, Aleida," she said softly. "You've been through hell." ---- "The hell is just beginning for them," | replied, my voice calm and steady. "This is far from over." "He's not going to agree to a divorce," Sarah predicted. "Not now. He'll fight you, try to claim you're mentally unstable." "He's a narcissist," Sarah continued, her voice filled with contempt. "He thinks he's the victim here. He'll believe his own lies." | looked out the window at the peaceful garden. "He can believe whatever he wants. It won't change what's coming." "People are going to talk, Aleida," Sarah warned. "The media... they'll tear you apart." "Let them," | said with a shrug. "Their opinions don't matter. What matters is that justice is served. An eye for an eye." Sarah shuddered. "The box... Aleida, that was..." "Necessary," | finished for her. "He needed to feel a fraction of the pain he caused me. He needed to see what he had destroyed." | felt a strange detachment from the world, from the social rules that had once governed my life. They had pushed me outside the boundaries of normal human behavior, and now | was playing by a new set of rules. My rules. After a few days of recovery, my body starting to heal, | knew it was time for the next step. ---- | went to the detention center where Derek was being held. He looked like a ghost. His expensive suit was wrinkled and stained, his face was gaunt, and his eyes were hollow, haunted. The arrogant, powerful man | had married was gone, replaced by a broken shell. "Aleida," he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached a hand through the bars, as if to touch me. | took a step back. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "| was a fool. | was blind. Else... she twisted everything. Please, forgive me." | stared at him, my face a blank mask. Forgiveness was a luxury he couldn't afford. | placed a document against the glass partition. It was his vasectomy certificate. He stared at it, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What... what is this?" "You tell me," | said, my voice cold as steel. He read it, and a look of dawning horror spread across his face. "No... it can't be..." "You killed our son, Derek," | said, my voice flat. "You and your friends, with your sick games." ---- "But... the vasectomy..." he stammered, his mind reeling. "The baby... it couldn't have been mine." "Oh, but it was," | said, my voice dripping with false sympathy. | slid a second document under the first. It was a DNA report. A fake one, of course, but he didn't know that. "99.99% probability," | said softly. "He was yours, Derek. A miracle. And you killed him." The sound that came out of him was inhuman. A raw, guttural scream of pure agony. He clawed at his own face, his body shaking uncontrollably. "No, no, no," he chanted, rocking back and forth. "I killed my son. | killed my own son." He looked up at me, his eyes begging for an absolution | would never give. "What do you want, Aleida? Anything. I'll do anything." | slid a third set of papers across the table. Divorce papers. And a stock transfer agreement, signing over his entire remaining stake in the company to me. He didn't even read them. He just grabbed the pen and signed, his hand shaking so violently he could barely form his name.