Never Forgive, Never Forget

Eight years after the divorce.

The sunlight outside City Hall was blinding.

Henry Roscente stepped out, clutching a brand-new marriage certificate.

When he saw me, he quickly hid the red booklet behind his back.

His gaze dropped to my legs, and his eyes dimmed instantly.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was hoarse.

"There were too many things beyond my control back then."

I watched him silently.

"Isabella's life can't have any stains," he continued. "But you... you still have chances to start over."

I smiled faintly.

The car accident eight years ago flashed vividly in my mind.

His childhood sweetheart, drunk behind the wheel, had shattered my legs.

Yet he was the one who sent me to prison.

"It's all in the past," I said.

As I turned to leave, he blocked my path.

"Emma, let me take care of you," he pleaded urgently. "Now I can—"

"Henry."

I cut him off calmly.

"We're divorced."

Pulling out my own marriage certificate, I held it up to him.

The crimson cover gleamed sharply under the sun.

"Someone already takes care of me."

He froze.

I tucked the certificate away and walked past him.

Without looking back.

---

Henry Roscente's gaze froze on the red document in my hand.

I tightened my grip on my best friend's marriage certificate, a composed smile curving my lips.

So this was what it felt like to stand unshaken before him.

"You... got married?" His voice trembled. "Does he treat you well?"

"What's his name? Let me see what he looks like."

Henry reached to snatch the certificate.

I took half a step back, slipping it into my bag.

My eyes met his familiar stare.

"He treats me exceptionally well."

"His appearance is none of your concern. As long as I'm satisfied, that's enough."

I retreated two more steps, widening the distance between us.

"I should go. My husband will worry if I'm late."

As I turned, his hand suddenly clamped around my wrist.

His eyes dropped to my legs. "Emma, your legs—"

"They're fine," I cut him off. "My husband is a doctor. He takes excellent care of me."

"Henry Roscente, we're divorced."

My gaze flicked to the marriage certificate in his hand. "Mind your boundaries. Your wife needs you more now."

I wrenched my arm free and walked away without looking back.

Something faintly brushed against my bag—as if he'd slipped something inside.

"Can your legs hold up?" Olivia Hill rushed forward to steady me.

I glanced down at the blood seeping through my pant leg and clenched my jaw. "I'm used to it."