From Asylum to Empire: Her Sweet Revenge

cesc

rds echoing off the padded walls of

practiced, placid smile. "Of course, dear. We underst

terrible misunderstanding." Desperation cl

being," she replied, picking up a chart. "He w

um Psychosis. A neat littl

write, a role I never auditioned for.

ablets, twice a day. "To help you re

ttle, blurring the edges of my grief, dulling the sharp pain of bet

, spitting them out when no one was looking, flushing the

stern-faced doctor, his prescription pa

eatment," he said, his voice clipped. "We're go

methods. I knew what that meant. My body tensed, fear a bitt

ed, raw with terror. "Antonio! Please, t

rd. "Your husband has explicitly approved your treatment

The words w

into my wrists and ankles. A metal band was placed

streaming down my face. "An

nurse said, her voice still u

cles convulsing violently. My body arched, every nerve

tearing at the fabric of my being, until my worl

heavy, like I'd been run over by a truck. The

iant, glowing, her pregnancy blooming beautifully beneath

is eyes, but it vanished quickly. "How are you feeling, Fran

me. He was here for somet

, holding out a folder. "A temporary separation agr

ite, legal jargon filling the pages. A contra

life," I whispered, my throat

he said, his voice smooth, practiced. "A cle

baby who isn't 'difficult'," I finished for

he papers, Francesca. Or y

e man I loved, the man who had loved me. But there

aten down. I picked up the pen, my hand trembling, and sc

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, a chillingly empty gestu

ien, too bright, too loud. I stumbled out, disorient

unch, followed by the clatter of gla

, my muscles protestin

all where our wedding photos, framed awards, and Shannon's tiny footprints once hung

tonio and Harlow, both smiling, her hand resting on her

n panel from the wall. Behind it, a secret compartment, buil

, my voice cracking. "Stop it! Wh

on his face. "Cleaning house, Francesca. We need spa

u're erasing her!" I lunged for the men,

s time to move on. For all of us." He gestured, and one of the men casually

g, tearing it open, desperate to retrieve it. My fingers scra

pity and malice. "Oh, Francesca, don't be so dramatic.

lterated rage. I launched myself at her ag

ling backward, clutching her stomach. "

e with brutal force. My head snapped sideways, a sickening cr

is gaze was fixed on Harlow, his face etched with frant

me. Among the broken glass and discarded items, a single, delicate baby mobile lay crushed, its tiny plasti

o herself, and to others. Especially to our new family." He glanced at the broken mobi

en whisper. "It's all I have l

nd stumbled out of the house, away from the wreckag

ed pile of ashes smoldered. My family's recipe book. The one passed down through generations. M

memory, every connection to who I was. I was being wiped clean. And in that moment, somethin