The words still clung to Astrid's mind like the echo of a gunshot. Divorce. It had not been whispered, not softened; her mother, more precise ,Emberly's mother, had hurled it into the air with venom and finality, as though the decree had already been sealed.
Astrid stood in the wide, echoing hall, rooted to the polished marble, unable to breathe properly. She had survived accusations, betrayals, and her own death, but never had a single word so thoroughly got aimless at her. Divorce. How was she supposed to respond when she didn't even know what truly lay between Emberly and Kyle? Was there love? Was there hatred? Was there anything at all? She was trapped in a marriage she had not chosen, in a body that was not her own, and now that fragile arrangement was being ripped apart before she had even begun to understand it.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, but her mother's voice pressed on, relentless.
"It will bring peace to this family," she said coldly, her gaze unwavering. "No more chaos. No more scandal. And most of all, no more trauma for Kayden. That child has suffered enough because of your selfishness."
The words sliced deep, and Astrid's chest tightened. Selfishness. That was what she had been called in her old world too, when she begged for love that was never given. When she broke under the crushing weight of loneliness. The insult stung, though it wasn't meant for her but for Emberly. Still, it landed on her heart all the same.
A sound pulled her back. A soft, broken whimper.
Astrid looked down, and her throat closed. Kayden was clutching tightly at her trousers, his small hands balled into fists, his head pressed against her leg as if hiding from a storm. Tears glistened on his cheeks. His voice was shaky, innocent, but heavy with fear.
"Are you… are you going to leave me?" he whispered. "You and Daddy? Are you going to leave us behind?"
Astrid's heart shattered. The words twisted into her chest, dragging up memories she had long buried. She was no longer standing in the Moonstone mansion but in her childhood home, years ago. She saw her younger self, a little girl, knees bruised from the cold floor as she clung to her own mother's skirt, sobbing, begging. Please don't go. Don't leave me. She remembered the hollow emptiness that followed when her pleas were ignored, the coldness that shaped her, the wound that never healed.
Tears pricked Astrid's eyes. She dropped to her knees and pulled Kayden into her arms, holding him tight, her fingers trembling as they threaded through his hair.
"No," she whispered fiercely, almost to herself as much as to him. "No, I'm not leaving you. I won't."
Her mother's eyes flickered, a moment of discomfort breaking through the hard mask. She cleared her throat and stepped forward, crouching to Kayden's level, her voice shifting—softer, almost tender, though the steel beneath it never vanished.
"Kayden," she said gently, smoothing his hair. "Don't cry, darling. You're safe. Nothing will happen to you."
Kayden sniffled, pressing his face into Astrid's shoulder, refusing to let go.
"You're frightening him," Astrid said quietly, her voice trembling.
The woman froze for half a beat, then stood, her pearl earrings catching the light. "I will not argue in front of the child," she muttered. Her eyes cut back to Astrid, sharp again. "This conversation isn't over."
But the tension did not vanish—it merely shifted, like a storm cloud refusing to leave the horizon.
Astrid inhaled shakily and stood with Kayden still in her arms. She set him down gently and kissed the top of his head. "How about I make us something to eat?" she asked, forcing warmth into her tone.
Kayden sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "You'll… you'll cook?"
Astrid nodded, offering him a small smile. "Yes. I'll cook."
Laughter erupted from behind her, harsh and mocking.
Her mother's voice dripped with disbelief. "You? Cook? Don't make me laugh, Emberly."
Astrid stiffened. She turned slightly, but the woman's eyes glinted with cruel amusement, her lips curled as though she had heard the most ridiculous thing in the world.
But the laughter faded when she realized Astrid was not joking. Her expression shifted from mockery to suspicion. Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms.
"Very well," she said, voice sharp. "Go on. Let's see this performance."
Astrid felt her stomach knot, but she moved forward, guiding Kayden toward the kitchen. The woman followed, her heels clicking like a judge's gavel behind her.
The kitchen was wide, gleaming, filled with the latest appliances and tools Astrid barely recognized. She paused for a moment, steadying herself, but the hawk-like stare on her back pushed her forward.
"Well?" the woman demanded. "Do you even know where to start? Do you even know what half of these are?" She gestured around the counters, eyes narrowed.
Astrid bit back a retort. She had cooked all her life in her old world. Not for show, not for status, but for survival. Her hands had known the weight of knives, the rhythm of chopping, the warmth of pots simmering with stew. This, at least, she could handle.
But first came the test.
The woman moved like a predator circling prey, pointing at various tools with disdain. "That?" she snapped.
"A whisk," Astrid answered calmly.
Her mother's lips thinned. She pointed to another. "And that?"
"A rolling pin."
Another. "And that one?"
Astrid's eyes flicked briefly. "A Dutch oven."
The woman's brows lifted ever so slightly. She pressed on, relentless, until finally she leaned against the counter, folding her arms. "Very well. Show me."
Astrid set to work, her hands steady though her heart pounded. She chopped vegetables, marinated chicken, and prepared a dish that was simple but rich in flavor—rosemary roasted chicken with garlic butter potatoes, accompanied by a light salad. Kayden watched with wide eyes, occasionally sneaking a carrot from the cutting board when he thought she wasn't looking.
But every movement Astrid made was scrutinized. Her mother hovered, criticizing her grip on the knife, her speed, her seasoning. "Too much salt." "Too much oil." "You're rushing." "You're too slow." The barrage never ceased.
Finally, the food was plated and set on the polished dining table. Kayden clapped his hands eagerly and dug in without hesitation. His face lit up instantly.
"This is good!" he said with a full mouth. "Really good!"
Astrid smiled softly, relief washing over her. But when she glanced at her mother, the woman's lips were pursed, suspicion etched into every line of her face.
"I won't eat it," she declared coldly. "You could have poisoned it for all I know."
Astrid's breath hitched. Kayden froze, fork halfway to his mouth.
"I saw her cook it, Grandma," he whispered.
The woman's eyes flicked to him, then back to Astrid. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, she sat and picked up her fork. She cut a piece of chicken, placed it delicately into her mouth, and chewed slowly.
A pause.
Then another bite.
And another.
Her words, however, remained sharp. "Too dry. Too much rosemary. Not enough balance." Yet beneath the scolding, Astrid caught the faintest glimmer in her eyes, the tiniest softening of her jaw. She was enjoying it, though she would never admit it.
Kayden grinned at Astrid, crumbs on his lips. She ruffled his hair, her heart swelling despite the tension that clung to the air.
Later that evening, when the sun had dipped and shadows stretched long across the floors, Astrid stood at the sink washing dishes. The warm water rushed over her hands, the smell of soap and lemon clinging to the air. For a brief moment, it was almost peaceful.
But then came the click of heels.
Astrid tensed. She didn't have to turn to know who it was.
Her mother's reflection appeared faintly in the kitchen window, her posture tall, her face carved in stone. She waited until Astrid had set down a plate before speaking.
"We need to finish our conversation," she said softly, but there was no gentleness in her tone.
Astrid dried her hands slowly, gripping the towel as though it could anchor her.
"This marriage cannot continue," the woman continued. "Kyle deserves better. Kayden deserves better. You are unstable, Emberly. Reckless. And this family cannot afford another scandal. Divorce is the only solution. Kayden will live better without you."
The words pressed heavy against the walls, each one a weight dragging Astrid down. She clenched the towel tighter, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
"I…" she began, her voice unsteady.
Her mother leaned closer, her perfume sharp, her eyes unwavering. "Say it, Emberly. Do what's best for your son. For your husband. Agree to the divorce."
Silence stretched. The sound of water dripping from the faucet was the only noise between them. Astrid's hands shook, but her eyes hardened, and for the first time since the conversation began, she lifted her chin.
Her voice was quiet, but it did not waver.
"No."
The single word cut through the air, final and unyielding, leaving her mother's eyes blazing with shock and fury.