Golden Cage Mommy Mutiny (Elyse) novel Chapter 66

The arrival of that child made Adrian Vale relent.

He brought me back home and took my hand. “Lillian, I was wrong, but you shouldn’t have made

such a scene.”

“You’ve upset your parents, their hair go white overnight; people are whispering when they step

outside.”

“You’re not a girl anymore–stop being so reckless please.”

He placed my hand gently on my belly. “Think about this baby. Think about your parents.”

Tears slipped into my palm.

That time, I chose to give in.

After everything, I felt hollowed out–drained of energy and spirit.

Days passed like a blur; I wandered through the house full of flowers like a ghost.

Adrian stayed with me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, as if teaching a prenatal class to the

life inside me.

Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, he reveled in the heady sweetness of new romance with Nora -sampling every trendy pop–up and viral restaurant she wanted to try.

Milkshakes, bubble tea, novelty hotpots, late–night ice cream–if Nora liked it, Adrian went along without a second thought.

The man who once thought ten wasted minutes a crime now sat through endless romantic films

with her.

The scholar who had valued his work above all else began doing childish things to please Nora.

To protect her, he even let her take credit on interdisciplinary papers.

To keep her happy, he embarrassed colleagues and skipped lectures.

He trampled my dignity and the professional rulesd trusted.

What finally broke me was the proposal he’d planned for Nora.

That year, Adrian rose to international fame after discovering a new exoplanet; his face was in magazines, and his name was on every science blog

At the peak of his success, he chose to share it with Nora.

He named the discovery–what he called his greatest triumph-“Vale’s Promise,” a symbol of the

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vow he and Nora had made to stay together forever.

On that every night, in a planetarium glittering with stars, he staged a small ceremony and pledged

forever.

When Nora walked down in a simple white dress and they vowed to never part under the artificial constellations, I snapped.

There had never been a wedding for Adrian and me.

When I begged him for one, he always said, “Lillian you know me–I don’t like pomp. Time and

energy are better spent on real work. I have experiments that matter.”

Because I loved him, I compromised. Because I loved him, I lost everything.

All that suppressed grief erupted between the rows of folding chairs.

I lunged forward, ripped Nora’s dress, and slapped her twice–hard enough that the sound echoed.

Adrian flung a cup of water into my face and said coldly, “You crossed the line, Lillian.”

Then he asked for a divorce and declared he would take Nora away.

I couldn’t accept it; I wasn’t ready to let go.

Sobbing, I screamed, “If you leave today, I’ll jump with the baby.”

He didn’t walk away.

He shoved me.

Maybe he only meant to scare me, but I lost the child I had hoped for.

I was readmitted to Crestwood Recovery Institute this time for severe depression.

I smiled as I told Stella this, my voice oddly light, as if sharing a fact from another life.

“In the second year I was institutionalized, Adrian fled for divorce.”

“I fought, but in the end I got nothing but this box off belongings.”

“The year after the divorce, I couldn’t accept any of it; I cut myself, I raged and ranted.”

“My condition was so bad I couldn’t find steady work.”

“My parents worried themselves sick; their health declined day by day.

“I didn’t want to make them suffer more, so I started helping at the deli, and–somehow–my

mood steadied.”

“Now I run the shop, and life is… quiet, and alright.

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My voice was calm.

Stella, however, was a broken mess of tears. “Lillian, you’ve suffered so much,” she cried. “Adrian is awful–if I ever see him, I’ll beat him up for you.

Before she finished, the heavy curtain at the deli’s entrance was pushed aside.

Adrian stood there in the misty morning light, and for a moment his face was blurred.

Then I remembered the words he’d said when he left that last time–words I thought I hadn’t heard

clearly.