Chapter 4 Accused

Seraphina's POV

The door swings open with a sharp snap, and the first words I hear slice through me like a blade.

"You killed my grandson!"

I freeze, my heart hammering against my ribcage. My head lifts slowly, my eyes meeting the glare of Margaret Ashford, her face twisted with fury, the pearls at her throat bouncing as she steps forward, each word deliberate, venomous.

"I...I didn't..." I stammer, my voice barely audible over the storm raging inside me. My hands tremble as I clutch the hospital blanket tighter, trying to anchor myself to something solid.

"You!" she screams, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me. "You incompetent, foolish, reckless girl! You let this happen under your watch! My grandson is dead because of you!"

I shake my head violently, tears welling in my eyes. "It wasn't my fault! I...."

"Not your fault?" she cuts me off, her voice sharp, slicing the air like glass. "You were supposed to protect him! You were supposed to keep our family safe! And now?" She steps closer, the smell of her perfume sharp in my nostrils. "Now he's gone, and you-you are nothing!"

Her words hit me harder than any physical blow could. Nothing. That's what I am to them. Temporary. Disposable. Worthless.

"I loved him," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I loved my baby! I tried..."

"You tried?" Margaret laughs, a cruel, hollow sound. "Your trying means nothing! You've ruined everything. I should never have welcomed you into this family."

I want to scream, to argue, to make her see reason. But her eyes, cold and calculating, tell me it's useless. She doesn't see me. She sees weakness, a mistake, a tool she can discard.

"Julian!" she calls suddenly, her voice sharp and commanding. "Come here. Now!"

I hear footsteps rushing down the hallway. A moment later, Julian Ashford stands at the doorway. Handsome, polished, and all privilege, his eyes flick from me to his mother, trying to gauge the situation. He doesn't look at me with concern just caution, as if approaching a fragile object he doesn't want to break.

"Mom..." he says hesitantly.

"Do not mom me!" Margaret snaps. "Look at her! Look at what she's done!"

"She..." I start, desperate to explain, but Julian holds up a hand.

"She's my wife," he says softly, almost like he's reading from a script. "We should..."

"We should nothing!" Margaret hisses. "She killed my grandson, Julian! My grandson!"

I feel my chest tighten, my stomach twisting in anger and grief. "Your grandson?" I echo, my voice shaking. "Your grandson? You blame me for what you allowed? For what you ignored?"

Margaret smirks, the corner of her lips curling in triumph. "Do not pretend to understand anything, girl. You were never one of us. You never belonged. And now... now your presence is an insult!"

Julian glances at me again, his expression unreadable. "Rina... Seraphina... calm down," he murmurs.

"I am calm," I snap, glaring at him. "I'm calm enough to see the truth. You all wanted me gone, didn't you? You wanted to erase me. You didn't care about me, about my baby, about anything!"

Margaret leans closer, her face mere inches from mine. "You are correct about one thing. We didn't care about you... or your feelings. You are temporary, Seraphina. And now, it's time to make that permanent."

I stumble back slightly, my hands gripping the bed's railing. The air feels thick, suffocating. My chest aches, my heart races. The weight of their hatred presses down on me, and I realize just how alone I am in this room.

Julian opens his mouth, perhaps to defend me, but his hesitation freezes him. He looks torn, unsure, and that uncertainty only strengthens Margaret's dominance.

"You will sign the divorce papers," Margaret says suddenly, producing a crisp envelope from her designer handbag. She slaps it down on the tray beside me, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "And then you will leave. You will disappear. Permanently."

I stare at the papers, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The hospital room spins slightly. My stomach twists, and for a moment, all I can feel is the sharp sting of betrayal-of being blamed, cast aside, and discarded all at once.

"I... I can't," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"You can," Margaret snaps. "And you will. Or I will ensure no one ever remembers you. No one will mourn you, and certainly no one will feel sorry for you. You are nothing, Seraphina Cole-Ashford. Nothing!"

I want to speak, to fight, to defend myself, but my body feels weak, my chest heavy with grief. The weight of their accusations is suffocating.

Julian stands frozen beside me, his hands tight at his sides. His gaze flickers between his mother and me, but he says nothing. He does nothing.

Margaret's smile widens, victorious, triumphant. "Sign them," she commands again, her voice like ice. "And leave. Be gone. Before I make sure the world knows what a disaster you truly are."

I look down at the papers, the black ink stark against the white envelope. My hands tremble violently. My baby is gone. My husband is silent. And my mother-in-law... my mother-in-law is smiling, as if this entire moment is a celebration of her victory over me.

The envelope lies there, heavy and final.

I can't move.

I can't speak.

I can barely breathe.

And yet, the room feels smaller, tighter, suffocating, as her smile lingers over me like a shadow.

The divorce papers sit between us, mocking me, daring me, condemning me.

And I know, deep in my bones, that signing them is not an option I can accept not if I want to survive what they've done.

But before I can react, before I can even lift my hands... Margaret leans closer, her smile unrelenting, and whispers, sharp and deliberate:

"Sign the papers, or lose everything. Forever."