Andrew walked to his mansion-like house, feeling tired and done with himself and with life.
It was pouring heavily, but for the first ti, the man who always cared about his image and hygiene couldn’t care less about bringing out an umbrella.
His strides were slow and haggard, almost like every step towards his own house was draining him of life.
The man stopped before the gates and looked inside the empty, dark halls. The bright halls, Elara’s soft voice, her giggles, and the excited presence of ho-cooked food flashed through his mind, and a sad smile appeared on his face.
It had been eight days since his conversation with Timothy, since knowing the truth, since his grandfather taking his last breath, and since his father fighting and still being in a coma.
His mother was no better. Regret consud her when she realized she had bullied Elara, the woman who was actually good to them and had helped the woman who was living proof of her husband’s betrayal.
Carla was no better. It was almost as if she matured overnight. The company’s shares plumted, and it found itself overnight in millions of dollars’ worth of debt.
He was trying everything he could to save his family na, but nothing was working in his favor.
They had already sold the Lloyd’s main house to cover half the debt, but it wasn’t enough, which is why this ho would be auctioned tomorrow.
He had been sleeping in the office for the last seven days, but wanted to co and visit this place one last ti, not because he regretted selling this house, but because this place was the only place he could still feel Elara’s mories and live them even after she was gone.
What he did to her couldn’t be undone, and he knew they were all just paying for their sins.
With a deep sigh, Andrew was about to ascend the stairs when he heard the sound of so shuffling from upstairs.
His brows furrowed, and he climbed the steps, only to co face to face with Beatrice packing her jewelry in a box.
The sound of the gate opening made Beatrice turn and look at him, and the box fell from her hand.
Andrew looked at the fallen necklaces, so of which belonged to Elara, and he had intended to give them to her.
"What are you doing here?" He asked her calmly.
"I... I just ca to take my stuff and will leave imdiately," Beatrice stuttered before she quickly started to stuff the jewelry in the box again.
She left her briefcase and clutched the box close to her chest. As she proceeded to walk past him, the man grabbed her elbow and forced her to stand before him.
"Where have you been?" He asked.
Beatrice swallowed hard.
"The rumors made it hard for to stay out, and I hid in my friend’s apartnt. I heard you were selling this house, and that’s why I returned to take my stuff so—"
"-so you won’t have to lose anything. Your love, your care—everything was a facade, no? After all, you were the first one to run out as soon as our na got dragged through the mud," Andrew completed her sentence, grabbed the jewelry box from her hand, and threw it on the bed.
Beatrice shook her head before she got to the bed to grab the box and secure it again.
Andrew looked at his phone and quickly dialed a number.
"That’s not true, Andrew. I was just here because—" Beatrice returned to explain.
"Did you know?" Andrew cut her off mid-sentence.
"Hmm?" She asked, confused.
"Did you know your uncle planned my father’s accident?" Andrew asked.
Beatrice froze in her place. She had known her uncle was behind the accident, but only later did she learn it.
She opened her mouth to explain, but the little pause was enough to tell Andrew exactly what he needed to know.
"I..." Beatrice started, but before she could even say anything, the man raised his hand and slapped her hard.
"This is for slapping Elara," Andrew said.
Slap! "This is for pretending to be my friend."
Slap! "This is for killing my friend!"
Slap! "This is for hurting my family!"
Slap! "This is for playing with my feelings."
Andrew slapped Beatrice repetitively until she couldn’t stand to look at him.
Honestly, if it had been in his hands, he would’ve killed her. But after knowing that she was his half-sister, how could he?
"I don’t know how I was so blind in the past to ever fall for a sewer-born like you. You are rotten through and through. Since you know everything, I am sure you also knew your mother was my dad’s one-night stand. You are my half-sister," Andrew spat the words as if they burned his throat.
Beatrice froze on the ground.
"What did you say?" She asked, horrified.
"You heard right! Your mother was my father’s bitch! And it makes you another bitch who got into my bed," Andrew spat.
Beatrice’s blood ran cold. Was her father Heather?
Her uncle had indeed ntioned he hated Heather for personal reasons, but he never said what they were. To say her uncle knew everything and still allowed her to marry Andrew only made one thing clear.
That man never cared about anything, not her mother, not her revenge; he had other motives, sothing she was clearly unaware of.
Andrew grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room, taking her straight to his office, where he had already drafted the divorce papers when he had heard of her betrayal.
He had thought he would pretend for a month and do sothing to get her to divorce him herself, but he couldn’t pretend anymore, not after this kind of blunder.
He had been waiting, looking for her to free himself from this sin of marrying his own half-sister at least.
"Sign these." Andrew pushed the pen on her palm.
Beatrice shook her head.
"I won’t sign them," she denied, tears flowing down her cheeks.
Andrew looked at her in surprise.
"Do you even hear yourself, Beatrice? Have so sha at least. Please, I beg you! I beg you to free from your rotten self. You are my fucking sister!" Andrew shouted at the top of his lungs.
Beatrice scread. She ruffled her hair, covering her ears as if that would change the truth.
"No! I am not signing. I love you. You are not my brother. I forbid myself to believe it. I am not signing. You have no idea how much I suffered and how much I plotted to get you. I am not letting you go now. I don’t care who you are to the world; to , you are my husband," Beatrice shouted in Andrew’s face.
Andrew looked at the woman before him, unsure if he had ever known her.
His heartbeat quickened as he stood there helplessly.
"I know why you are doing this. You are doing this because you want to return to Elara, no? I won’t allow it. I won’t allow you to run to her. You guys will never be one again." Beatrice shook her head maniacally.
"Beatrice, hear . I am not doing this because I want to run to Elara. I am doing this because you are my sister, and it’s immoral—" Andrew started, hoping it would help her understand, but she shook her head.
"I don’t fucking care! You are mine! Do you think Elara will accept you if you divorce and run back to her? Will you love your loyalty? No! She won’t! After all, you killed her child. Do you hear ? You killed your child!" Beatrice shouted, laughing after what she said.
"What?" Andrew asked, blood draining from his face.
"I said what I said... haha... You had no idea, did you? You are fucking mine, Andrew Lloyd. No one can love you more than I do," Beatrice said.
Andrew stepped forward to ask her what she ant when the cops that he had called earlier entered the office and cuffed Beatrice.
"No, wait. Tell the truth. What did you say about my child?" Andrew ran behind the cops who were taking Beatrice away as they pushed her inside the car.
"Sir, thank you for helping us locate her. We will contact you for further inquiry," the cop Jeffery said, and Andrew shook his head.
"I have to talk to her. Speak up!" Andrew slamd his hands on the window glass.
"You hear . That night of your wedding anniversary, Elara was pregnant, and she had a miscarriage. I knew about it and sent her a photo of you sleeping with . You are mine, Andrew. How can that bitch have your baby? Only I can have that," Beatrice said.
Andrew stumbled back from the car in shock before he rushed forward to punch the car’s window, wanting to murder Beatrice.
"Sir, please stay back, or we’ll have to arrest you." The cops pulled Andrew back.
Andrew watched the cars with the sirens leave one by one while he stood in the rain, his heart a ss.
This was the reason. The reason Elara snapped that night and decided to leave him.
He killed his child. He was a monster.
"No!" Andrew scread in the rain, convulsing in pain.
Jason, who reached the mansion at the sa ti and saw his boss losing his consciousness, rushed forward to help him.
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