Chapter 4

Aspen Donaldson POV:

Derek held Krystal protectively, his large hands stroking her hair as she buried her face in his chest, whimpering dramatically. He didn't even look at me. His entire focus was on her, on the woman who had just verbally assaulted me, desecrated my parents' memory, and blamed me for the loss of my child.

"What did you do, Aspen?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes finally finding mine. They were full of a raw, searing anger I had never seen directed at me before. "How could you lay a hand on her? You twisted, jealous woman!"

My hand still stung from the slap, but the sting was nothing compared to the shock. He believed her. Of course, he believed her. He always believed her.

"She provoked me, Derek," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "She said... she said the baby was karma for me not wanting it. She blamed me for everything."

He barked a harsh laugh, a sound devoid of humor. "Don't you dare try to twist this, Aspen. I heard her. She was trying to comfort you. And you, in your usual melodramatic fashion, attacked her. You are sick. You are absolutely sick."

He pushed Krystal gently away, his gaze hardening on me. "You're jealous, aren't you? Jealous that she's a better woman, a kinder woman, a woman who truly understands me! You're nothing but a bitter, spiteful shrew!"

My stomach dropped. The words felt like physical blows, each one landing squarely on my already bruised and battered spirit. This was it. The absolute bottom.

"You will apologize to her, Aspen," he commanded, his voice shaking with fury. "Now. Or I swear to God, I will make sure you lose everything. And don't even think about keeping this child. I won't have a child raised by someone so utterly devoid of empathy."

My breath caught. He was threatening to take our unborn child? He was threatening to make me choose between an apology to his mistress and my own flesh and blood? The irony was so profound, so utterly cruel, that a strange, detached calm settled over me. He didn't even know. He truly didn't know.

Derek pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "I'll call the clinic. We can schedule the appointment right now. No point in bringing a child into this mess."

I watched him, a slow, cold smile spreading across my face. He thought he had leverage. He thought he could break me with this. He was so utterly convinced of his own power, of his ability to manipulate and control.

"You can put your phone away, Derek," I said, my voice eerily calm. "There's no need for an appointment."

He paused, looking up, a flicker of confusion in his angry eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"The baby," I stated, the words leaving my lips with a strange sense of finality, of release. "It's already gone. I miscarried days ago."

His face paled. The color drained from his cheeks, leaving him looking ashen. Krystal, who had been sniffling dramatically, stopped abruptly, her head snapping up.

"You're lying," Derek accused, his voice hoarse, disbelieving. "You're just saying that to manipulate me. To make me feel guilty. It's another one of your attention-seeking stunts, isn't it?"

I reached under my pillow, my hand finding the crisp, legal-sized envelope I had prepared days ago. I had asked Dr. Chen to hold onto it for me. I pulled it out, the rustle of the paper loud in the suddenly silent room.

"No, Derek," I said, my voice steady. "This time, I'm not seeking attention. I'm seeking freedom."

I held out the document. It was a comprehensive divorce agreement, drafted by my family's legal team, detailing every asset, every shared property, every hidden account. It was all there. I had been watching him, documenting everything, long before his "radical independence" charade began.

Derek snatched the papers, his eyes scanning the clauses. His jaw tightened. His eyes widened, first in disbelief, then in cold terror. He saw the figures, the details of his "self-made" fortune, the investments, the clients, the subtle threads connecting them all back to my family, to me. He saw the meticulous accounting of his secret offshore accounts, the lavish gifts to Krystal, the properties he thought he'd cleverly hidden.

He'd always underestimated me, hadn't he? Thought I was just a pretty face, a supportive wife, a docile creature to keep his home warm while he conquered the world. He'd never seen the Alexander blood running through my veins, the strategic mind I'd inherited from generations of powerful men and women. He thought I was dependent, a burden. In truth, he was the one who had always depended on me, on my family, to prop up his carefully constructed illusion of success.

He tore the papers into shreds, the sound ripping through the silence. "You conniving bitch!" he shrieked, his face contorted with rage. "You've been planning this, haven't you? All this time, you were just waiting to stab me in the back!"

"Stab you in the back?" I echoed, a cold, mirthless laugh escaping my lips. "No, Derek. I was just trying to survive. Trying to be the wife you wanted, the one who supported your dreams, who sacrificed her own identity for yours. But you broke me. You broke everything."

He stormed toward me, his eyes wild. "You'll regret this, Aspen! You'll be nothing without me! You'll be alone, penniless! You think you can just walk away from everything I've built?"

"You built nothing, Derek," I said, my voice radiating a newfound strength. "Not really. My family built you. And now, I'm taking it all back."

He froze, his face a mixture of fear and confusion. He grabbed a pen from the bedside table and a stray piece of paper, scribbling furiously. "Fine! You want a divorce? You'll get one! But you'll get nothing else! Not a penny! Not a single memory!"

He shoved a crudely written paper at me. It was a mockery of a divorce agreement, demanding I leave with only the clothes on my back. Krystal, seeing Derek's fury, chimed in, "Yes, Derek! Make her pay! She deserves nothing!" She even managed a weak cough, clutching her chest again.

Derek glared at me. "Sign it, Aspen. Or you'll never see another cent from me. You'll be begging on the streets."

I looked at the crumpled paper, then at him, then at Krystal, who was now smirking behind Derek's back. The fight had drained me, but his arrogance, his sheer audacity, fueled a new surge of icy resolve.

"No," I said, my voice clear and unwavering. "I won't sign your pathetic excuse for a document. This isn't how this works, Derek. I have an army of lawyers, and I assure you, they will make sure you get exactly what you deserve. And you, Derek, darling, deserve nothing."