From Asylum to Empire: Her Sweet Revenge

asket, yet it was the stench of betrayal that truly choked me. At her graveside, I saw Harlow Faul

for onlookers, but his eyes were ice. He' d brought me breakfast in bed,

Harlow whimpered, "It was SIDS, a tragic accident." Antonio roared, "You're making a scene!" He

ach, whispering, "Is the baby alright?" my world shattere

to sign divorce papers. But as I lay broken, a cold, diamond-sharp resolve h

pte

cesc

ecking ball. It didn' t just steal my daughter, Sh

ny casket, yet it was the stench of betrayal that truly choked me. I stood

le against the weight of the moment, the hushed whispers, the

I saw

lose to Antonio, her hand a sil

d, tear-stained fabric of true sorrow. Her eyes were a little red, just

d me paranoid. He called her my 'biggest supporter,' my 'closest friend.' Bu

, still trembling from placing the last ro

ere a rasp, barely audible. "Why is s

y flesh, a silent warning. "Francesca, darling, not now," he hissed,

rything. It used to be whispered ag

e tray, just hours after our wedding. He' d surprised me with

m ruthless competitors, always my shield, m

one, replaced by this stranger.

istro into a global brand. My recipes, his bus

iny miracle. And with her, the wh

agile immune system. Antonio saw it

my voice raw, echoing slightly in the morbid qu

s tone low, menacing. "Harlow is here to pay her resp

searing me. The injustice felt like a phy

rey, past Antonio's restrain

like tears, but they were precise, controlled. Not a

ice laced with venom. "How da

ou," Harlow murmured, reaching for my

he thought of her skin on

" The accusation ripped from me, raw and uncont

eyes darting to Antonio. "It was SIDS, a tragic accident. I did e

nsitive she was! You were supposed to be watch

lready around Harlow, pulling her closer. "You're over

recorded everything, didn't it, Harlow? It saw you!"

ar, that old thing stopped working weeks ago. It was broken. Surely

ut the way he said it, the casual cruelty, it con

ed inside me. The proof, the one thing

reaking. "Our daughter. Our Shan

buried in his shoulder. "Francesca is right. I sh

apped. "You deserve worse!" I lunged, my hand connecting with her fac

sent me sprawling onto the damp grass. My head h

io's arms, clutching her cheek dramati

e. His entire focus was on Harlow, c

ent to her stomach, a gesture both protective and

ow, but her voice was steady. "Maybe... maybe I

tenderness for her, then turning to me, his face contorted with disg

ading her away, leaving me there, alone, on

ope of betrayal and loss. My own scream was trapped i

ourney was a haze. My legs moved, but I felt noth

Smith, celebrity chef, reportedly suffered a severe emotional breakdown at her infa

d me. A plain brown box sat on th

by bootie. One of Shannon's. But it wasn't empty. It was filled with dri

ed. My stomach heaved, and I barely made it to

sickly sweet, drifted from the doorway. She st

orried." Her eyes flickered to the bootie

my mouth with the back of m

know, it' s probably for the best. Shannon was... difficult. Always sick. Antonio deserves

ched myself at her, screaming, clawing, all ratio

ped me. Her shriek was piercing, the

Harlow, who was now clutching her belly and wailing. "What have

, and slammed me against the wall. My head

skull, and I tasted blood o

is breath hot on my face. "You're going away, Francesca. For your ow

r faces devoid of emotion. They carried a stretcher, its p

alm. "Don't try anything, Francesca. No one

erstood. This wasn't about help. It was about erasure