Chapter 187 She Wants Freedom

Chapter 187 She Wants Freedom

"Mr. Jones!" The officer's expression darkened instantly, his tone sharp. "Who put you up to this? Go to the registration desk right now and get that wound treated before it gets infected and puts you at serious risk."

"It was my own choice, officer!"

David straightened up, forcing a look of resolve.

But I could see right through it—he was deliberately sticking to his story, with no intention of giving up the person who had cut off his fingers.

That carefully composed posture wasn't remorse. It was submission from someone who had been thoroughly broken.

"Officer, I'll write two letters of apology then."

David's tone was fawning, shameless. "One for the domestic abuse against my wife, and one for harming myself. Also, I'd like to ask—would it be possible for me to have a custom banner made for the station? To thank the police for pulling me back from the edge when I'd lost my way. It would mean the world to me, like being given a second life."

My stomach turned.

The groveling, two-faced look on him was genuinely disgusting.

The officer had seen this act a hundred times. He had no interest in dragging it out—he finished the report and left without another word.

I ignored David completely and walked past him toward the hospital bed.

Aunt Olivia was covered in bruises, looking utterly wrecked. The moment she saw me, tears slid down her face. Her lips trembled, and then she lowered her head, too ashamed to meet my eyes.

"You had it coming."

I'd already softened inside, but my voice stayed cold.

I knew exactly what she was—a woman trapped by life and a terrible marriage, someone who had slowly lost herself along the way.

The one who started all of this had already been punished. I was willing to let go of the past and forgive Olivia for everything.

"I want a divorce!"

The moment the officer left, David dropped the act and went back to being his usual aggressive, unreasonable self.

"You're divorcing me? You wouldn't last a day without me! I may not have made you rich, but I never mistreated you!"

Olivia snapped her head up and locked eyes with him, her gaze burning with a hatred so raw it looked like she wanted to tear him apart.

"Why—why are you staring at me like that!"

That icy look sent a chill through him. He instinctively stepped back twice.

"I've had enough, David. I am divorcing you."

Olivia broke down completely, sobbing out loud. "The things you've done—there are too many to count! My sister died so young, and I'm the older one who failed her! Eleanor has found some peace now—that's her own good fortune—and you still won't leave her alone. Are you not going to be satisfied until you've driven her into the ground?!"

"It's all my fault." She shook as she cried, hollow with despair. "I should have been the one who died back then. I raised my son wrong and I married the wrong man. Why—why did it take me until now to see these people for what they really are..."

"You want to divorce me?"

David's anger surged. He jabbed a finger at Olivia and unleashed a torrent of abuse. "Without me, you're nothing! You'll be on your own!"

Then he turned on me—the classic move of someone powerless taking it out on whoever's nearby, convinced everything was everyone else's fault and he had done nothing wrong.

"It's you! You're the one putting ideas in her head about divorcing me!"

He glared at me, his voice full of empty threats. "I'm telling you—even if she does divorce me, you're still going to take care of me in my old age. Don't even think about getting out of it!"

"Shut up."

My voice came out sharp and cold.

David froze. A flicker of real fear crossed his face. He immediately fell back on William's name to prop himself up. "William is already on his way here! You'd better leave on your own, because when he shows up, he's going to teach you another lesson!"

David raised his right hand—three fingers left—the ugly, crusted wounds impossible to ignore.

"Now I get it! You really know how to work men, don't you. Not only do you have William wrapped around your finger, you've got Ryan too. It was Ryan—Ryan's the one who cut off my two fingers!"

I kept my expression steady and pushed down the jolt in my chest. This confirmed what I'd suspected. Ryan had done it.

David wasn't going to change. Let him keep making trouble and he'd only create more problems down the line. This was the right moment to use Ryan's name to shut him down for good.

"Was it only Ryan? Robert had no part in this?"

I held his gaze, my eyes cold and faintly contemptuous.

It hit him right where he was most afraid. He lost it—eyes wide with panic, staring at me.

"So... you knew all along."

He caught himself, and his expression shifted—vicious now, unhinged. "It was you! You set them on me!"

With that, he lunged at me, arms flailing, completely out of control.

I raised my phone and pretended to take a call, my voice steady but loaded. "Hello, William? You and Ryan are already on your way? Almost here? Come up fast—David is causing a scene."

"You just wait!"

All bluster, no follow-through. He threw out one last threat and bolted from the room.

The ward went quiet.

I called in the medical staff and asked them to move the crowd away from the door.

By the end, it was just me and Olivia, who had sunk to her knees and was crying into her hands.

She kept her head down, shaking, her sobs barely above a whisper.

I stood nearby in silence, my feelings hard to sort through.

She was my closest living relative in this world.

Just an ordinary woman—a housewife who had spent her whole life pinned down by social expectations, a bad marriage, and a husband who never took responsibility for anything. She had never once been in control of her own life.

Something hit me then.

If I had kept giving in, clinging to some idea of love and the status that came with a wealthy family, going along with everything William wanted—

one day, I might have ended up just like Olivia. Diminished. Helpless. With no say in her own life.

A deep wave of compassion moved through me.

It had nothing to do with the past. It came from something more basic—a simple human kindness, and a quiet recognition of what it feels like to be truly alone with no way out.

I stepped forward, bent down, and gently helped Olivia to her feet.

My voice was soft. "How are your injuries? If anything doesn't feel right, let the doctor check you over again. You don't want old wounds to get worse."

Olivia shook her head slowly. Her face was pale and worn, her hair disheveled and going white, her frame even thinner than the last time I'd seen her. "Just surface wounds. Security and the doctors got there in time. He didn't do any serious damage. This is what I deserve."

I let out a quiet sigh to myself.

I had walked in just in time to see David pick up a tempered glass cup and slam it into Olivia's head, again and again. He had meant to really hurt her.

She didn't want to talk about it, so I let it go.

"I'll handle everything from here."

I took it all on myself.

Divorcing David was nowhere near as complicated as divorcing William. No tangled social circles, no layers of politics.

The one thing I needed to do was make sure Olivia was safe—that the abuse would stop, and he would never come near her again.

I had seen Olivia's medical report before. With everything that had been going on, I had nearly pushed it out of my mind.

Her condition had been getting worse for a long time. It had reached the late stage. She didn't have much time left.

She already knew.

When a person is close to the end, everything they've held back—every obsession, every piece of buried grief—finally comes to the surface.

She just wanted one thing before her life was over: to break free from this marriage and have, for once, a taste of real freedom.