Chapter 199

Chapter 199
Morgan's POV

I slipped off my heels, feeling the cool hardwood beneath my feet as I closed the door behind me. The sound of laughter and conversation from dinner still echoed in my mind – Jonathan's proud smile, Liam's protective glances, Alexander's hopeful eyes.

But here, alone in the silence of my new house, that warmth felt distant, like it belonged to someone else's life.

They don't understand. None of them do. How could they? Revenge was supposed to fill this emptiness inside me, but it's only made the hole deeper.

I wandered through the living room, past furniture I'd barely used. This place had never felt like home – just another stage set for the performance of my life. I moved toward the bedroom, drawn by some invisible force.

Standing before the full-length mirror, I slowly lifted my blouse, fingers tracing the jagged scar across my abdomen – Olivia's permanent souvenir from when she pushed me down those stairs. The doctors had done their best, but some marks never fade.

"I've got justice for you, my baby," I whispered to my reflection, to the child who never had a chance to breathe. "She paid for what she did."

But the words rang hollow. Olivia's arrest, Montgomery's empire crumbling, even Alexander's renewed affection – none of it brought back what I'd lost. The revenge I'd spent years planning had left me empty.

What's the point of any of this now?

I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out a black notebook – my journal from the psychiatric facility. The pages were filled with grief and guilt, letters to my unborn child, promises that mommy would make things right.

With deliberate movements, I retrieved cream-colored stationery from my desk. The pen felt heavy as I began to write.

Dear Liam,

When you read this letter...

My hand was steady, mind clear. The clarity that comes when you finally see the end of a long, dark tunnel. The memories of those days in the psychiatric ward flashed through my mind – the suffocating darkness, the medication that dulled everything, the endless sessions where I smiled and nodded just to be released.

The postpartum depression diagnosis that no one questioned, because a baby had died inside me. But they never understood that my despair wasn't just chemical. It was knowing I'd failed to protect the one person who depended on me completely.

I reached for my phone and dialed my lawyer.

"I want to transfer all my assets to Liam Wallace," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "Yes, tonight. This is my final request."

I paused, listening to his concerns.

"It's already decided," I replied firmly. "Please just take care of it."

As I hung up, a small smile touched my lips. "Soon, my baby. Mommy's coming to see you. You won't be alone anymore, I promise."

---

Liam was reviewing case files in his office when his phone rang.

"Mr. Wallace," the voice said, "your sister Morgan just called requesting an immediate transfer of all her assets to you..."

Liam's blood ran cold. "What exactly did she say? Did she mention... this being her last wish or something similar?"

The lawyer's hesitation was answer enough. "She did use the word 'final,' sir."

"Shit." Liam's fingers trembled as he immediately dialed Morgan's number. The phone rang several times before going to voicemail.

He sent a text message: Emma is your daughter! Morgan, don't do anything stupid, Emma needs you!

He tried calling again, but the phone was now off. "Damn it! We kept it secret too long!"

Liam's voice was frantic over the phone. "Dad, it's me. Morgan's in danger. I think she's planning to kill herself. I just got a call from her lawyer – she's transferring everything to me."

Jonathan's voice cracked with fear. "Dear God... Did you tell her about Emma?"

"I tried, but she's turned off her phone. We need to find her – check dangerous places, high buildings, rooftops... you know what's on her mind."

After hanging up, Liam immediately called Alexander. "Morgan's in danger! I need you to think where she might go. You know her, better than anyone."

---

Alexander stood frozen in his living room, the phone slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. Morgan. Suicide. The words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't make them fit together.

He tried to think of where she might go, but terror clouded his thoughts. He stumbled toward his liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of whiskey – not to drink, but to break. The bottle shattered against the marble countertop, glass and amber liquid spraying across the surface.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a jagged shard and dragged it across his forearm. The sharp pain cut through his panic, bringing sudden clarity.

I can't lose her again. Not like this.

Blood dripped onto the floor as a memory surfaced – Morgan's screenplay. In it, the heartbroken protagonist had a special place she went when life became unbearable – a lake in the woods, where she could "finally breathe."

That lake was real. Morgan had taken him there once, during their first year of marriage.

Alexander drove recklessly through the city streets, ignoring traffic signals, his bleeding arm forgotten. His mind raced faster than his car, remembering every detail of that day by the lake – Morgan's smile, the way the sunlight danced on the water, her confession that this was her secret place when life became too much.

Please don't let me be too late. Please.

He abandoned his car at the forest's edge, not bothering to close the door as he sprinted down the trail. Each second felt like an eternity, each branch that scratched his face barely registered compared to the fear crushing his chest.

Breaking through the treeline, he saw her.

Morgan stood waist-deep in the water, wearing a white dress – the same style she'd worn on their first date. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as she walked deeper into the lake.

Alexander's heart nearly stopped. He ran toward the water's edge, tripping over an exposed root and crashing hard to the ground. Blood from his forehead joined the wound on his arm as he scrambled to his feet.

"EMMA IS YOUR DAUGHTER!" he screamed with every ounce of strength. "Morgan! She's our child! She didn't die! She needs you!"

But Morgan didn't turn. Either she couldn't hear him over the gentle lapping of the water, or she was too far gone to care. Her white dress billowed around her as she moved deeper, the water now reaching her chest.

At the same moment that Alexander entered the water, Morgan disappeared beneath the surface.