The air in the room was thick with the scent of fear—Tyler's sweat, Nathalie's perfume, the metallic tang of blood still clinging to Angela's hands.

Nathalie's breath hitched as Angela's words cut through her, her face draining of color. "You killed him?" she repeated, her voice trembling, her fingers digging into Tyler's shoulders as if she could anchor him to her. Her eyes searched Angela's face, desperate for a lie, for anything to make this a nightmare she could wake from.

Angela didn't give her that.

Instead, she let out a slow, mocking laugh, her lips curling into a smile that was all sharp edges. "Don't play the grieving widow with me," she said, her voice dripping with venom.

"Don't act like you didn't know exactly what kind of monster your husband was. The people he hurt. The families he destroyed." She stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, her presence looming over Nathalie like a storm.

"I regret killing him too quickly. I should have made him suffer the way he made me suffer. The way he made my daughter suffer." Her voice cracked for just a second, raw pain flashing in her eyes before she buried it beneath a layer of ice. "But I'll make sure his son pays for every second of it."

Tyler's breath came in ragged, panicked gasps, his body trembling violently against his mother's. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, his face twisted in terror as Angela's words sank in. "No," he choked out, his voice breaking.

"No, please—Angela, I swear—" His hands clawed at the sheets, his fingers shaking so hard he could barely grip the fabric.

"I didn't do anything to you. I never touched you. I didn't even want to—" His voice dissolved into a desperate sob, tears streaming down his face as he begged for mercy. "Please, just let me go. I didn't deserve this."

Angela's smile didn't waver. If anything, it grew colder. "Oh, but you did," she said, her voice slow and deliberate. "You think I don't know what you and your father planned for me? The things you wanted to do?" She tilted her head, her eyes raking over him with disgust.

"The only reason I'm still alive is that your father needed my skills—my mind. If it weren't for that, I would have been just another one of your toys. Another body for you to break and discard." Her voice dropped to a whisper, so quiet it was almost worse than a scream.

Nathalie's breath came in sharp, panicked gasps. She released Tyler and sank to her knees in front of Angela, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking, her tears falling onto the cold marble floor.

"Angela, I'm begging you. He's my son. He's all I have left." She reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against Angela's coat.

"I didn't know what Walter was doing. I didn't know what Tyler was involved in. But I swear to you, I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just let him go."

Angela looked down at Nathalie with cold detachment, her expression unreadable. "Anything?" she repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. "You think your pleas mean something to me? After what your family took from me?"

Nathalie's body shook with sobs, her forehead pressing against Angela's knees. "I'll give you everything. Money, connections, whatever you need. Just spare him. He's just a boy. He didn't know what he was doing." She looked up, her eyes red and swollen. "I'll leave this place. We'll disappear. You'll never see us again. Just please, don't take my son from me."

Tyler watched his mother, his own tears streaming down his face. "Mom, don't—" His voice was weak, broken. "Don't beg her. She won't listen."

Angela's gaze flickered between them, her expression unyielding. "You think I care about your money? Your promises?" She reached down, gripping Nathalie's chin and forcing her to meet her eyes.

"You had everything. A family. A life. While my daughter was broken, while I was used and discarded like trash." Her voice was low, venomous. "You think your suffering compares to mine?"

Nathalie didn't pull away, even as Angela's grip tightened. "I know it doesn't," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But please, Angela. I'm begging you as a mother. Don't make me watch my son die. Don't make me bury another person I love."

Tyler let out a choked sound, his body convulsing as if Angela's words had struck him. "Mother," he wailed, his voice raw with terror.

"Mother, please." He turned to Nathalie, his face a mask of panic, his hands gripping her arms like a drowning man. "Don't let her. Don't let her take me."

Nathalie's breath hitched, her tears spilling over as she looked between Angela and the narrator, her gaze landing on the way the narrator stood there—silent, watching, smiling. "You're monsters," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Both of you. You're sick."

Angela finally released Nathalie, pushing her away with a cold shrug. "And now," she said, her voice a dark promise, "you won't even have him."

Nathalie collapsed forward, her hands clutching at Angela's feet, her body wracked with sobs. "No," she choked out, her voice breaking into something primal, something shattered. "Please. I'll do anything. Anything at all. Just don't do this."

Angela's gaze flickered away from Nathalie for a moment, landing on me as I sank onto the sofa. A slow, calculating smile curled her lips.

She turned back to Nathalie, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Ok... as a mother, I can understand you." She paused, letting the words hang in the air like a blade. "I'll give you a chance."

Nathalie's breath hitched, a fragile spark of hope flickering in her eyes. She nodded desperately, her fingers still gripping Angela's shoes as if her life depended on it.

But then Angela's smile twisted, her voice turning icy as she pointed a finger at me. "You see him? He's my man. All you have to do is satisfy him... and I will spare your son's life." She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "What do you say?"

Nathalie's face paled, her body going rigid. "You—" Her voice trembled with fury and disgust. "I will die before I commit adultery."

Angela's smile didn't waver. If anything, it deepened, her tone mocking. "That's such a shame." She sighed dramatically, shaking her head as if disappointed. "Looks like your son has to die, then."

Nathalie's breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her eyes darting between Angela and me, her expression a mix of horror and defiance. "You're evil," she whispered, her voice raw. "You're not a mother. You're a monster."

Angela laughed, the sound cold and hollow. "Maybe. But I'm the one holding all the cards." She leaned down slightly, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Tick-tock, Nathalie. Decide quickly. Your son's life is in your hands."

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