Chapter 2 DIVORCE II

CHAPTER 2

I stared at the horrific pictures in silence before a sudden surge of anger and hurt ran through me as I stood up, my eyes blazing with accusation. "You did this, didn't you?!. You killed them just because I refused to sign the divorce papers."

Zayn sighed, his expression bored. "Oh, Lyra, not this again. Why do you always try to find a way to blame me for everything?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Well, as much as I'd love to, I didn't kill your parents" ......"Your father made some very bad business investments and got involved with a lot of shady people. And while you were busy chasing after me, His company was crumbling"

My eyes widened in horror as Zayn's words painted a vivid picture of my parents' final moments. "Your father was already tugging at the final thread of his sanity when the news of your infidelity broke out, and that only served as fuel to the already out of control fire" ........."He was so enraged that he decided to brutally murdered your mother for giving him such an incompetent daughter instead of a son. And then...I'm guessing he hung himself shortly afterwards."

My face went pale upon hearing Zayn's words, I knew that my father hated me but I refused to believe that he'd do such a thing. "You're lying," I whispered, my voice and my whole body trembling. "You're just trying to deceive me."

Zayn rolled his eyes, his expression uninterested. "Lying?," he said, his voice flat. "I'm just telling you the truth. But you're too blinded by your own emotions to see it."

My anger boiled over, my voice rising into screams. "You're a monster!" I spat, My eyes blazing with hatred. "You're a heartless, cruel, barbaric monster!"

Zayn shrugged, his expression unchanging. "Maybe I am," he said, his voice bored. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm telling the truth. And besides if I'm all that, then what should we call your father?" He chuckled.

"You're...you're enjoying this, aren't you?" I whispered, my voice barely audible "You're enjoying watching me suffer."

Zayn's expression didn't change, but his voice took on a slightly amused tone. "Only a little," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But mostly, I'm just bored. Bored of your accusations, bored of your tears, bored of your pathetic attempts to cling to me, I'm bored of it all. But most importantly I'm bored of you so just sign the divorce papers already and stop wasting our precious time."

I was enraged and frustrated coupled with the grief I was nurturing in my heart. I couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take the pain and hardship I had been subjected to but most especially I couldn't take the mockery in Zayn's eyes.

I pulled out a gun that I had concealed underneath my dress. I trembled as my finger tightened around the trigger but before I had the chance to take the shot, the police burst into the mansion, surrounding me and wrenching the gun from my grasp. "Lyra Walton, you're under arrest," one of the officers growled, cuffing my wrists behind my back.

My eyes widened in shock as the officers read out the charges against me. "You're being held accountable for your father's crimes and fraudulent activities," one of them explained. "Since he's deceased, you're the next in line to face the consequences as his heir."

As the officers dragged me out of the mansion, I struggled and kicked, but my efforts were futile. "You can't do this!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the halls. "I didn't do anything wrong! I'm innocent!"

Zayn's voice cut through the chaos, "Wait!"

The officers paused, and my eyes locked onto Zayn's, a glimmer of hope sparking within me. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to save me.

But Zayn's next words crushed my hopes. "I need her to sign these divorce papers before she leaves," he said, a smug smile spreading across his face.

My eyes blazed with anger but I was helpless as the officers forced me to sign the papers, my hand shaking with rage and despair. As I scribbled my signature, the paparazzi and journalists swarmed around me, snapping pictures and shouting insults.

"Look at her! She's a disgrace!" one of them shouted.

"Shame on you, Lyra!" another one cried.

The neighbors soon joined in, hurling rotten food and insults at me as I was dragged away. "You're a dirty little slut!" one of them screamed.

"You're going to rot in prison!" another one shouted.

I stumbled, my eyes blinded by tears and shame, as the officers violently shoved me into the police car. I collapsed onto the seat, my body wracked with sobs.

The vehicle sped away, leaving the chaos behind. As the police car sped away I began to feel sudden contractions that slowly intensified along the way. The strain of the emotional and physical turmoil I had endured for the past few days, coupled with the events of the day, finally took their toll. I felt a searing pain in my lower abdomen, as blood slowly began to trickle down my legs.

The police officers rushed me to the nearest city hospital, where I gave birth to a premature baby boy. At just six months old he was forcefully brought into the world, but unfortunately he died shortly after he was born as his lungs weren't fully developed. I remained in the hospital for two more weeks, unable to grieve the loss of my child as I was under strict surveillance, being held prisoner, my every move monitored, as I was scheduled to be taken to prison as soon as I had recovered

But I had other plans.

The moment I felt strong enough to move, I slipped out of my hospital bed and made a break for it. I only had one goal in mind: to escape this horrible place and avenge my son's death.

Just as I began losing hope of being able to escape successfully, as the police officers were already on my tail. I noticed a strange man in a black coat with his face completely covered. The strange man led me out of the hospital, without saying a word to me he pointed in the direction of the forest and urged me to go East, but before I could respond he disappeared.

I hesitated for a moment as I questioned his motive as to why he'd help me, but my thoughts were brought to a halt as the police officers were already closing in on me.

With a newfound determination, I ran straight into the woods. I didn't dare look back, fearing what I might see. The police officers were hot on my tail, chasing me down, and shooting at me. Fortunately I dodged and weaved, avoiding the bullets by mere inches.

As I ran through the woods, my legs aching and my breath ragged, I stumbled upon a hidden town. The buildings seemed newly constructed, in a rather elaborate manner, the streets eerily quiet. But before I could even process my surroundings, I was grabbed by a group of rough-looking men.

They dragged me through the streets, forcing me to meet their leader. As I was pulled along, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye. It was the man in the black coat again, he stood in silence as he watched them drag me away from a distance.

I was finally brought before the chief of the town, a towering figure with a cruel glint in his eye. He looked me up and down, a sneer spreading across his face.

"Ah, Lyra Walton, is that correct? Or shall I call you Lyra Armani?" he spat, his voice dripping with malice. "Daughter of the man who betrayed us. Your father's downfall was almost... poetic."