Her Voice, Her Revenge
After five years of prayers, Judith—seven months pregnant—went into early labor. Uncontrollable hemorrhage followed, her life hanging by a thread.
The husband who had always adored her was nowhere to be found. He had vanished, along with the young maid of sympathetic humors he kept privately for her sake.
She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but another contraction ripped through her—a searing pain that threatened to tear her apart.
“Vincent… Where is Vincent?”
Seeing her sister’s face pale with agony, Ariana wept as she sent everyone out to search. The only replies were helpless shakes of the head.
“The bleeding won’t stop! We can’t wait any longer!”
“Didn’t they say that maid’s very vitality was the key? Where is he?!”
Facing the physician’s furious shouts, Ariana trembled, sobs choking her voice. “I’ve sent everyone… His Highness still can’t be found…”
Before Judith could speak, another violent contraction twisted through her.
Before darkness claimed her, her last blurred glance fell on the tightly shut door.
Vincent had not come.
She did not know how much time had passed when she finally woke in her bed.
Her hand moved to her flat, empty stomach. Dread and grief crashed over her like a wave.
“My baby…”
She struggled up, desperate to find her child, but saw only her sister, eyes red from crying.
“Sister… I thought you’d never wake…”
“The baby… where is my baby?” Her voice was frail as she clutched Ariana’s sleeve, tears brimming.
“The physician said… the situation was critical. Saving you took everything he had.”
Ariana could not bring herself to finish.
“And Vincent?”
Ariana’s expression darkened. “I’ve been by your side for three days and nights. He hasn’t come. Not once.”
The world seemed to spin. A pain so sharp it nearly knocked her unconscious again.
Her precious child, nurtured for seven months, filled with countless hopes and dreams—gone, without ever opening its eyes to this world.
This was the child Vincent had longed for day and night. Yet the father had not come to see them, not even once.
Gasping, her voice ragged, Judith summoned Vincent’s most trusted subordinate.
“Where is Vincent?”
Faced with her demand, Aaron wiped sweat from his brow. “His Highness… is occupied…”
His hesitation turned her heart to ice.
“Tell Vincent to come see me!”
Finally, with her sister’s support, Judith saw it—a tiny, cold form beside the midwife.
Her child, the one she could not save. A little girl. Judith breathed warm air onto the small, cold hand.
“My child, Mother will take you away.”
Cradling the baby, she took a carriage directly to a certain place—the private residence where Vincent kept that maid, Leah.
She wanted him to see their child one last time.
But at the door, she saw him. Vincent, gently soothing a weeping woman in his arms, his voice soft as silk.
“Shhh, now, don’t cry.”
“Hush, my love. We won’t go if you’re frightened.”
Leah’s face was streaked with tears, eyes red. “I want to go too, but I’m so scared…”
“Shh, don’t be afraid. We simply won’t go.”
Judith stood outside the door. It felt like a thousand blades piercing her heart, the pain so sharp she could barely breathe.
While she had hovered between life and death, the man she loved was comforting another, younger woman.
The Vincent who had once risked his life for her had finally become faithless.
Yes, Vincent had risked his life for her three times.
At eighteen, caught in a skirmish while they were out, he had shielded her for three days and three nights, ensuring her rescue first while he nearly died.
At twenty-one, he charged alone into a bandit den to save her, taking three knife wounds—the last a hair’s breadth from his heart. He fought for seven days and nights in the infirmary before clinging to life.
At twenty-five, when everyone opposed their marriage, Vincent endured the family’s judgment: a hundred lashes. His back was flayed open, not a patch of skin left whole.
After their wedding, Judith had basked in that hard-won happiness. So when Vincent said he wanted a child, despite her difficulty conceiving, she tried with all her might. Years of prayers and bitter tonics later, she finally carried his child.
Once she was with child, the man grew even more devoted. Not only that—Vincent had found and installed a maid in a private residence, a girl whose constitution was said to harmonize with Judith’s, a safeguard, he said, for the birthing bed.
Judith had questioned this once, but his smile dispelled her doubts.
“You’re carrying our child, and still you get jealous?”
“Don’t overthink it. It’s just a precaution. I want you safe, our child brought safely into this world.”
She had believed him.
And so her child had died.
Judith did not speak. Instead, she tightened her hold on the cold bundle, turned, and took her child to be laid to rest.
Only after watching the tiny urn buried did she take out the carrier pigeon she had raised so long and send a message far away:
“Barbara, I trus
“Vincent, is this what you’ve given me?”
She held up the prenatal tonic prescription from the list. Vincent clearly hadn’t expected to be caught; his expression turned awkward.
“Judith, calm down. Don’t take it out on her.”
“That night… we just got carried away.” Seeing her face grow even paler, he sighed helplessly. “I wanted her to end it, but the stubborn girl refused. Absolutely refused.”
“Losing our child pains me too. But look at the bright side—once this baby is born, you’ll be its mother. The Vincent family needs an heir, Judith. Be the bigger person. Do this for me. Please?”
“Vincent, our child is dead. He was so small… only seven months. How could you…”
Tears blurred her vision. Even the air in the carriage felt thick, suffocating.
The rest of the words stuck in her throat, too vile to speak.
“The child is already buried. What’s the point of dwelling on it now?” Vincent snapped, impatient. “Are you going to live in misery forever? I haven’t even taken a second wife—you should be grateful for that!”
Listening to him, Judith felt her heart slowly extinguish, like a candle burned down to its wick.
He was right. What was the point?
The carriage soon returned to the estate. Preoccupied, they entered the house one after the other.
Vincent noticed Leah’s absence as soon as he stepped inside. Odd, he thought.
Since Judith became pregnant, they had slept separately.
She reached her chamber door and opened it—only to find Leah inside, polishing a folding screen.
The girl looked as if she’d been working for hours, sweat beading on her forehead, her face flushed.
Seeing Judith return, she quickly put on an obsequious, fawning expression. “Madam, your room is all cleaned up.”
The sight pierced Vincent’s heart. He pushed past Judith and pulled Leah into his arms. “You’re pregnant! You shouldn’t be doing heavy work like this. Why won’t you listen?”
He turned a furious glare on Judith. “What is the meaning of this?”
Judith shook her head in panic. “I never ordered her to work! I’ve barely even seen her!”
Leah swayed weakly in the man’s embrace, her voice frail. “Vincent, don’t ask… I’m fine…”
“Silly girl, you’re carrying my child. If anyone’s bullied you, I’ll make it right.”
She didn’t speak, just buried her face in his chest and wept—a picture of pitiful, tear-streaked misery.
“Judith, didn’t I tell you not to mistreat her?!” he roared. “She’s pregnant too. How can you be so cruel?”
Judith had no defense. Even through her disappointment, the injustice brought fresh tears. “What are you saying? You don’t believe me?”
“Leah is pregnant. She wouldn’t risk a joke like this.” Then, softening his voice, he murmured to the girl in his arms, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”
“Sister Judith has… a protective charm. It’s very pretty. I’d like one for our baby, too…”
Vincent’s gaze hardened as he looked back at Judith. “Consider it an apology to Leah. Go and get that charm yourself.”
Judith stood rooted to the spot, Vincent’s voice seeming to come from somewhere far away.
Seeing her unmoved, the man’s expression darkened. “If you won’t apologize, then Ariana’s academy won’t be opening its doors again.”
The memory of her sister’s smile forced Judith’s surrender. “I’ll go.”
She hadn’t missed Leah’s triumphant smirk. She was just… tired.
Two thousand steps. Judith climbed them one by one in the pouring rain, her postpartum weakness turning the ordeal into pure agony.
Finally, she obtained the so-called protective charm. Soaked to the bone, she presented it to Leah, who took one glance and tossed it aside. “Vincent, it looks dirty. I don’t want it anymore.”
The last words Judith heard before darkness claimed her were Vincent’s, gentle and dismissive:
“Then don’t have it, my darling. As long as you stop crying.”
