"MOM...?!"

Sean instinctively released his arms from around Moana’s waist. Moana’s body swayed slightly, as if she had just lost her only source of support.

Mrs. Weasley stood a few steps away from them. Her suit was immaculate, her hair perfectly coiffed, her face hard and devoid of any trace of warmth. Her gaze fixed directly on Moana—sharp, full of disgust.

"Filthy woman," she said coldly. "How dare you come to this hospital?"

Moana fell silent. Her face was pale. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the small bag in her hand.

"I—" Moana tried to speak, her voice hoarse.

SMACK!

The slap landed hard on Moana’s cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the hospital hallway. Several nurses turned their heads. A doctor stopped in his tracks.

Moana staggered. Her head snapped to the side. Tears streamed down her face, uncontrollably.

"Do you think crying will make me acknowledge you as a victim?" Mrs. Weasley continued without raising her voice. And that made Moana feel even more overwhelmed.

"Clara, my beloved daughter-in-law just had a miscarriage. And you came here to hug Sean?"

Sean was startled. "Mom!"

Mrs. Weasley turned and glared at her son. That look made Sean’s chest feel tight. It was unusual for Mrs. Weasley to be that angry at Sean.

"Shut up," she said curtly. "You’ve already brought enough shame upon this family."

Moana raised her hand to her stinging cheek. She was breathing heavily. "I’m pregnant too," she said softly. "I’m scared too. Everyone’s attacking me—"

"And you think that makes you special in my eyes?" Mrs. Weasley cut in sharply. "You’re pregnant by a married man. The world owes you no sympathy."

Moana sobbed. "I love Sean..."

"Love?" Mrs. Weasley sneered. "You call this love?"

She stepped closer, causing Moana to instinctively take a half-step back.

"Listen to me carefully," Mrs. Weasley continued softly, but with intense pressure. "As long as Clara is still Sean’s lawful wife, you’re nothing more than a disgrace. And a disgrace has no place in our family."

Sean glanced anxiously toward Clara’s hospital room. The image of his wife’s bruised face flashed through his mind again.

"Take her away, Sean," Mrs. Weasley ordered Sean without turning her head. "Now."

Sean looked at Moana for a moment. For the first time, he hesitated.

Moana looked at him with tear-filled eyes, full of hope.

Sean let out a long sigh. "Come on," he said briefly.

Moana lowered her head. As they walked away, Mrs. Weasley added one final sentence—cold, piercing.

"Moana...! If I ever see you dare to show your face near Clara," she said, "

I myself will destroy your life."

Moana walked away. Sean would escort her out of the hospital.

********

The hospital hallway fell silent again after Moana left. The tension hadn’t subsided; instead, it lingered, clinging to the white walls like the pungent smell of antiseptic.

Inside the hospital room, Clara lay half-reclined. Her face was still pale, the bruise on her temple not yet fully faded. But her eyes now looked clear—too clear for a woman who had just lost everything.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Knock.

Knock.

Mrs. Diana turned her head warily. She rose and opened the door slightly.

Mrs. Weasley was standing there.

Not with her usual haughty demeanor. Not with that cold, commanding gaze. This time, her face looked weary. The lines of age were clearly visible. Her shoulders were slightly slumped, as if the burden she carried was too heavy.

"May... I come in?" she asked softly.

Mrs. Diana stared at her for a long moment, then opened the door wider without a word.

Mrs. Weasley stepped inside. The moment her eyes fell on Clara in bed—her face bruised, her condition fragile, a far cry from the image of the perfect daughter-in-law she had once so often boasted about—her steps halted.

She swallowed hard.

"Clara..." she called softly.

Clara didn’t answer. She just stared at the ceiling, as if the voice had come from another world.

Mrs. Weasley approached, then... knelt down.

The gesture startled both Mrs. Diana and Clara.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Diana’s voice rose, instinctively.

But Mrs. Weasley had already bowed her head.

"I beg you," she said, her voice trembling. "Don’t file for divorce from Sean."

Clara turned her head slowly. Her eyes widened slightly, disbelieving.

"Why?" she asked flatly.

Mrs. Weasley lifted her face. Tears welled up in her eyes—whether they were genuine tears or the result of desperation, she didn’t know.

"Sean was wrong," she said quickly. "I don’t deny that. But... a divorce will destroy everything. The family name. The company. The future."

She turned to Mrs. Diana.

"I beg your forgiveness," she said softly. "As one mother to another."

Mrs. Diana remained silent, staring at the woman before her with cold eyes.

Mrs. Weasley took a breath, then spoke the words she’d been preparing all along.

"We’ll compensate you. Whatever you want. Money. Property. Stocks. I swear, Clara won’t lack for anything for the rest of her life."

Silence.

The seconds passed as if the clock’s hands had been deliberately slowed down.

Then—

Mrs. Diana let out a short laugh.

It wasn’t a cheerful laugh. It wasn’t warm. It was bitter.

"So this is how you do things?" she said coldly. "Your family is used to using money to solve every problem, isn’t it?"

Mrs. Weasley tensed.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

Mrs. Diana took a step forward. Her gaze was piercing.

"I’ve just remembered something I’d forgotten," she said slowly, each word sounding like the slash of a knife, "when Clara’s father died."

Clara gasped.

"Father...?" her voice was barely audible.

Mrs. Weasley turned pale.

"Back then," Mrs. Diana continued, her voice trembling with long-suppressed anger, "your husband came bearing money. A great deal of it. He called it ’assistance.’ A ’moral obligation.’ And an apology."

Clara looked at her mother, her heart pounding.

"Mom... what do you mean?"

Mrs. Diana turned to her daughter. Her eyes were wet, not from sadness—but from anger that had been bottled up for far too long.

"Your father didn’t die in a simple accident, Clara," she said softly but firmly. "There was collusion. There was negligence. There were dirty decisions made by Mr. Smith’s company."

Clara froze.

"Your father was a victim of his own best friend’s selfishness," Mrs. Diana continued.

The room seemed to spin. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"No..." Clara shook her head weakly. "Dad died in an accident while testing a new product."

"That’s the version they paid for people to believe," Mrs. Diana cut in bitterly.

"What?" Clara was stunned.

Sean, who was standing by the door, was also startled upon hearing this.

"What? What’s really going on here?"

"Sean?! Since when have you been standing there?" Mrs. Weasley gasped in surprise.