A Long-Overdue Revenge

The sharp autumn wind, chilled with cold, slipped through the cracked window of the old apartment, brushing against my bare arm and raising a fine pattern of goosebumps. I crouched in the corner of the living room, my fingertips pressed against the safe's cold metal door, the mottled rust beneath my skin sending a sharp sting through me. The sound of the teeth clicking into the lock was strikingly clear in the silent room. I took a deep breath and turned the key forcefully; after a soft 'click,' the cabinet door slowly opened, the grating scrape of metal like a dull blade slowly cutting through my taut nerves. The cabinet was small, piled with a few old photo albums and a stack of documents. My eyes swept over those familiar items, finally settling on the bottom layer — two neatly folded sheets of paper, their exposed corners faintly yellowed, as if touched countless times. The moment my fingertips brushed the paper, my heart skipped a beat, and even my breath stilled for half a second. I carefully drew the paper out, unfolding it with movements as slow as if I were defusing a ticking bomb. The first page was a prenatal examination report; on its pale pink cover, the hospital's logo was embossed, and the date clearly marked three months prior. My eyes slid down to the expectant mother's name—'Melody Xavier'—the two characters glaring back in black Song script like slender needles, piercing sharply into my vision. The paper trembled lightly in my hand. I gripped the edge of the report so tightly that my fingertips whitened, barely managing to steady my emotions as I reached for the second sheet. It was a kindergarten enrollment notice, the sky-blue paper adorned with cartoon illustrations. The recipient's name read "Alex Lewis," and in the guardian's section, the two characters "Ryan Lewis" struck like a thunderclap, shattering my mind. Ryan Lewis—the man who once whispered in my ear that he would protect me forever; The man who, as I lay on the operating table losing our child, held my hand, weeping and promising to make it up to me for the rest of his life; That man who should be at the Company right now, yet somewhere in a hidden corner, he was with another woman and a child. The two sheets of paper in my hand felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. I gripped them so hard that my knuckles paled, the edges crumpled and wrinkled, and in some spots, my nails had even pierced tiny holes through the delicate paper. Footsteps approached from behind, carrying a familiar scent faintly laced with tobacco—the very smell that once comforted me now struck like a serpent's venomous fang, chilling me to the core. "What are you looking through?" Ryan Lewis's voice came, tinged with a faint and barely perceptible panic, his trailing tone trembling slightly, a stark contrast to his usual composure. I slowly turned around and handed him two sheets of paper, my throat raw as if sandpaper had scraped it, each word piercing painfully: "Who is Melody Xavier? Is Alex Lewis your child?" Ryan Lewis's eyes flickered, a trace of panic flashing through their usual calm. Instinctively, he reached to snatch the papers from my hand, his tone edged with impatience: "Stop making baseless accusations; this has nothing to do with you." I took a step back, avoiding his hand, the storm of emotions in my chest threatening to break through reason. My voice rose several tones: "It has nothing to do with me? Ryan Lewis, don't forget—we're not divorced yet! You've had a child with another woman, and you tell me it has nothing to do with me?" "Divorce?" Ryan suddenly laughed, his smile laced with scorn. He stared at me, his gaze chillingly cold and almost cruel. "Stacy Scott, don't forget—if it weren't for you back then, how would I have been cast out of the Lewis Family? How would I have fallen from a privileged heir to this state? What right do you have to speak of divorce with me now?" "So you repay me with betrayal?" I fixed my gaze on his eyes, searching for even the slightest hint of guilt beneath that cold stare, but all I found was numbness and impatience. All those moments of tenderness and promises now felt like nothing but a senseless dream. Ryan Lewis's patience seemed exhausted; he stepped forward and gripped my wrist with a force that felt as though he might crush my bones, the pain instantly bringing tears to my eyes. "I told you, don't interfere in my matters! Just stay at home and behave. You won't be shortchanged on what's rightfully yours!" "I want a divorce." I struggled fiercely to break free from his grasp, leaving several red marks on my wrist, burning with pain. I looked at him, speaking each word clearly and deliberately, every syllable heavy with finality. "How dare you!" Ryan Lewis's face darkened instantly, his complexion turning ashen. He raised his hand, about to strike me across the face. I closed my eyes, waiting for the slap to fall, my heart turning ice cold. Memories flashed through my mind: the first spark of meeting, the sweetness that followed, the despair of losing the child, and his earlier promises—all shattered fragments scattered before my eyes. But the pain I had anticipated never came. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Ryan Lewis clenching his fists, knuckles paling from the pressure, his arm frozen mid-air, his eyes filled with suppressed rage. "Don't push me." His voice was low, carrying a threat. "You're the one who pushed me first." I turned and walked toward the door, my steps steady, without a hint of hesitation. "I'm done with this marriage." As I opened the door, the cold wind rushed in, brushing against my face, clearing the haze in my mind. I didn't look back, nor did I glance at Ryan Lewis again; I walked straight out of the place I once called "home."