From Asylum to Empire: Her Sweet Revenge

cesc

You know my allergies. The dust, the mold... it's a health hazard." My throa

s until the guest wing is ready for renovation. It's a small inconvenience for the

aping my lips. "You call putting me in a place

m the clinic, appeared at his side.

ng my arms. Their grip was surprisingly firm, yet ge

y body still ached from the electroshocks, from the dai

of the house. The air hung heavy, thick with the smell of old wood, dampness, a

d up, not with tears of sadness, but from a growing irritation. I felt i

rt. My vision blurred around the edges, a dizzying

d, a wave of heat washing over me, followed by a sudden chill. My chest tightened, a vice-like grip

uced haze. I needed my EpiPen. It was in my bathroom, i

eak, my cries for help hoarse and barely

ng, toasting with champagne glasses on the patio. The irony was a

ound that sent a fresh wave of terror through me. Someth

away! Get it away from me!" I thrashed, my weakened body

my ankle, a searing pain that made me cry out. I kicke

screamed again, a guttural sound of agony and terror. The

machines. My head throbbed, my throat raw. My ankle was throbbing, a

ancesca, darling, thank God you're awake." He re

too raw, my voice a mere croak. My e

rible allergic reaction, darling. You must have accidentally inhaled some dust.

olation. He was lying. I knew it. He always did. This was

you want, Antonio?" I forced the word

always about what I want." A pause, a calculated beat. "Harlow, she's... str

coiling in my stomach. What

guidance. Your experience. She's asked you to be her mentor. To help her navigate this new cha

n who had stolen my husband, erased my child, and nearly kil

shaking my head. "I won't

. To show you're stable. That you're better." He leaned closer, his voice a low

the forced sedatives, the chilling emptiness of that

word a surrender. "I'll do it." But even as I said it, a new plan, cold and sharp, beg

e smaller, more exclusive test kitchen, a pristine, white-tiled space designed for culinar

oat had subsided, but a dull ache remained, a testament to the allergic

strange sense of resolve settled over me. This was my domain. My art. And here,

nocent face. The tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to

hone I'd managed to keep hidden. Irvin:

ld be so urgent? I quickly typed a

e divorce papers. You signed them months ago. It's offic

hed back to the hospital, to Antonio holding out documents, his smooth lies of a "temp

ripping from my throat. "

x of betrayal and crushing lies. He had tricked me. He had stolen my id

y. "Is there any good news, Irvin? Any tin