Chapter Four

Nella's POV:

He lets out a deep sigh, squeezed his hands, then relaxed them before saying, “I don’t have time for all this, Nella. Just sign this.” Then he tossed a brown envelope in front of me.

I picked up the envelope and started to open it. "What is this? Is it some kind of petition or something?" I asked, still struggling with the seal.

“Divorce papers!” He replied and my hands froze in the air.

“Y-you are kidding right?”

“Do I look like I came all the way here to joke?” He asked, sounding all serious.

Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the man I called my husband. “Why are you doing this to me, Oliver? What have I ever done to you to deserve this?”

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re asking me this right now,” he began. “Caitlyn is stuck in a wheelchair for God knows how long, and she has a severe brain injury that I can only pray she recovers from. And you're asking me what you've done to deserve this when you actually deserve even more.”

“So this is all because of Caitlyn huh.” I asked, staring deeply at him. “I am telling you I didn't push her down the fucking stairs. She fell while trying to push me down.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because…” Honestly, why should he believe someone he has never acknowledged or cared about.

“You are nothing and will always remain nothing to me, so please sign the goddamn papers.” Oliver yelled, glaring at me. “Caitlyn hates it when I am not around.” Be added.

I stared at Oliver for a while, I guess I hoped to see an atom of pity in his eyes but his eyes were completely void of any emotions. He looked back at me with pure resentment.

‘He hates me!’ I said to myself. So why should I try to save something that is already lost. 

‘This marriage is already lost.’

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the officer. As if she understood what I wanted she immediately made her way towards me, uncuffed one of my hands and handed me a pen from her pants pocket. “Thank you.” I said, turning back to Oliver. “Where do I sign?” I asked.

“You'll find it.” He replied, curtly.

I flipped through the papers until I found the places that needed my signature, and I signed them one after the other. I handed the pen back to the officer who was still standing beside me. “I want to go.” I said, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Sure.” She began uncuffing my legs, then my hands, but as soon as I stood up, she cuffed my hands again. Then she led me out of the room, and before I stepped through the door, I glanced back at Oliver, who was smiling widely as he slipped the divorce papers back into the brown envelope.

‘At least one of us is happy.’ 

“You are back?” The red haired asked, as I stepped back into the cell and I nodded my head.

“I thought your husband came to bail you out or something. Or will he be coming back with a lawyer?” She asked, but I ignored her questions and sat down at a corner.

“Ignore the rude brat and pay attention to the game.” The toothless one said, holding a bunch of cards in her hands.

“My husband, he actually came with divorce papers.” I began, and they all turned to stare at me.

“Why would he do something like that?”

“Doesn't he care about you at all?”

“Maybe he believes that she committed the crime that she was accused of.” 

Taking a deep breath I continued, ignoring their sermons. “My husband thinks that I tried to kill his ex so he called the police on me.” I saw the shock that formed on their faces as I said ‘ex’.

I began. “When I married my husband, Oliver Quinn, the CEO of Quinn's Innovations, I was labeled the lucky wife, the golden retriever, and so much more. Everyone assumed I was treated like a queen, with people at my beck and call, making me the envy of countless women who wondered why Oliver chose me. But in reality, he didn't have much of a choice. His fiancée had just cheated on him and married another man, and his ailing father wanted him to avoid wallowing in sadness while the company struggled. So, he made a proposal to his longtime friend—my father. 

My father agreed because his business was on the brink of bankruptcy, and a wealthy son-in-law could save him. I quickly accepted the marriage, thinking that after being mistreated in my father's house all my life, marrying someone as loving as Oliver would finally bring me the peace I sought. But it turned out to be the opposite; Oliver was only kind to those he loved and to his many fans. He didn't love me, so I was neglected. I didn’t mind much, though, as I saw him as my savior, the man who rescued me from my cruel family. I did everything I could to earn his love, but all my efforts were in vain. Then, about two months ago, it was announced that his ex had gotten divorced. Just three days after that public announcement, she called to apologize to my husband. About a week later, she called to tell him that her ex-husband was threatening to sue her. My husband then brought her into our home. Just two days ago, she tried to push me, but she lost her footing and fell down the stairs. Now, my husband has thrown me in jail, believing that I tried to kill her.” I explained.

"You know, your story reminds me of mine," the red-haired inmate began. "I used to work for a wealthy socialite who had everything in the world except a heart. When my daughter got sick, I pleaded for a loan to cover her medical bills, but she refused to help. Desperate, I decided to steal some jewelry to sell and pay the bills, but it was already too late. I got caught and ended up in prison.”

“What about your daughter? What happened to her?” I asked, a bit curious.

“She passed a few days after.” 

“So sorry about that.”

"Then there's me," the toothless woman began. "Some rich guy tried to molest me, I had no idea he would lie I hit him hard on the head with a stick. But his mother found out and got me arrested. I didn't even get a chance to redeem myself because I was helpless." She finished her story, and I turned to the third woman, hoping to hear her tale.

"Well," she began, clearing her throat. "I don’t have a sad story like yours. I was arrested for begging in front of government property. I was released a few days later, but I refused to leave because I was tired of being homeless. Prison offered free shelter and, most importantly, free food." She concluded, and everyone burst into laughter. "I’m Jemma," she said, introducing herself.

The red-haired joined in. “I’m Naomi.” 

“Elizabeth.” The second, added.

We talked for a few more minutes before we were called to the cafeteria for breakfast, after which we would work in the fields. By the time we finished working, it was quite late, and we retired to bed.

………..

“Why do I feel so hot?” I wondered, still half-asleep. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, but I didn’t understand the source of the heat.

“Get up, Nella,” someone said, tapping my shoulder.

“Fire!” I heard someone scream, and my eyes flew open.

The place was filled with smoke, and the screams of prisoners trapped behind bars echoed around me. They were calling for the officers to unlock the cells. I turned to see the three women staring at me.

“What do we do?” I asked, but they just shrugged.

I jumped to my feet and ran to the front. “Help!” I shouted.

“It’s no use; no one cares about the lives of criminals,” they said, sounding defeated. But I didn’t stop; I kept yelling—not for myself, but for my baby. I had chosen to give my child a chance at life earlier that day, and I couldn’t let it die like this.

Suddenly, a police officer ran past. “Hey, please help us!” I called after him.

To my surprise, he turned around and came toward me. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a bunch of keys from his belt. After unlocking the doors, he instructed, “Head out front,” then continued to run.

One by one, we filed out of the cell, but a stampede ensued as other prisoners escaped their holding cells.

“I know a shortcut to the front,” Jemma said. The four of us quietly slipped away from the crowd and followed her.

It was a narrow space. Jemma, Elizabeth, and Naomi had already gone through, just as I was about to step in, a large stick fell from the roof, blocking my path. We all tried to lift it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t worry about me, just go on. I’ll find a way,” I reassured them before turning back toward the crowd.

Suddenly, another stick fell, this time hitting my head. I thought I was fine and kept moving, but then my vision blurred, and I began to feel dizzy. I felt blood trickle down the back of my neck, and before I could take another step, I blacked out.