My Death, His Ultimate Downfall

Amelie POV: "Just give us the price, Mrs. Jarvis!" The reporter's voice, insistent and slightly breathless, cut through the buzzing of the auction hall. "Three hundred dollars, right? That's what you told our colleague?" I turned, my gaze meeting hers. My earlier phone call to their editor had already set the wheels in motion. "No," I said, my voice clear. "The price has been paid. The story is free." She stared, bewildered. "Free? What could possibly be free from Carson Jarvis's wife?" A small, cold smile touched my lips. "The total destruction of everything he built. His reputation. His company. His life." I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell them Amelie Knight is no longer Mrs. Jarvis. Tell them I'm gone. Permanently." Her eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief, then dawning horror. She probably thought I meant suicide. Good. Let them think that. That was phase one. "You need to be fast," I urged, pulling back. "This story will break the internet. Don't let someone else scoop you." Her face was ashen. She nodded jerkily, then turned and bolted, weaving through the crowded hall as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. The sudden commotion drew eyes, including his. "Amelie!" Carson's voice, laced with a forced pleasantness, cut through the murmurs. He moved towards me, his arm outstretched, a familiar gesture of public affection. He probably thought I was still just playing hard to get. I sidestepped him, my body stiff. The air around him suddenly felt suffocating, polluted. His hand dropped, his smile faltering. His eyes, usually warm for the cameras, turned to chips of ice. "What's wrong, my love? Still upset about the pictures?" "Upset?" I echoed, a hollow laugh escaping my throat. "Carson, you didn't just have an affair. You flaunted her on our yacht. You compared her to me, in front of the world. And you expect me to be merely 'upset'?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, that. It meant nothing. Karin is just a silly girl. She's young, naive, a bit like you were when we first met, actually. Always clinging, always wanting attention." He paused. "Speaking of clinging, how is your grandmother? That fever must have passed by now, surely?" My blood ran cold. He had forgotten. Or pretended to forget. My grandmother. The woman he had murdered with his callous disregard. "She's dead, Carson," I said, each word a shard of ice. "She died last night." His face remained impassive for a beat too long. A theatrical sigh followed. "Oh. Well, I suppose that was inevitable, wasn't it? She was old. It was her time." He glanced around the opulent hall, probably calculating how this would play in the press. "I'll arrange a magnificent funeral, of course. Something befitting her stature." I closed my eyes, a tidal wave of grief and pure, unadulterated hatred threatening to drown me. My hands clenched at my sides, knuckles white, trembling with an urge to strike him. But I was calm. I had to be. He didn't notice. He never noticed. He was already reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. "Here, darling. Something to cheer you up. I picked this up at Christie's last week. A flawless sapphire. It will look stunning on you." He offered it with a practiced charm, as if a bauble could erase years of pain, erase the life he had extinguished. "Consider it a consolation, my love. For... everything." I felt a strange sense of detachment as he led me to our reserved table. The auction was already in full swing, the rapid-fire calls of the auctioneer a distant drone. I watched the glittering items, a parade of wealth and excess, wishing I could disappear. Then, his phone vibrated. A video call. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He excused himself, stepping away, his voice hushed and excited. "Yes! Yes, I saw it! Oh, my darling, that's wonderful news! I'll be right there! I'm coming to see you!" He hung up, practically bouncing with glee. "Amelie, darling!" he exclaimed, rushing back to me, pulling me into a suffocating hug. The last time he'd held me like this was when he was begging me not to leave, when my grandmother's life hung in the balance. "Good news! Wonderful news! I' ll tell you all about it when I get back, but I simply must go!" He kissed my forehead, a perfunctory peck, then spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone at the table, the sapphire box still clutched in my hand. I stood there, reeling, the scent of his expensive cologne fading. He was gone, again. Just like always. It wasn't long before he returned. Too soon. And not alone. Karin Riddle, radiant and glowing, was by his side. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, a diamond necklace glittering at her throat, a bracelet sparkling on her wrist – all bought by Carson, no doubt. She wore a smug, knowing smile that made my stomach churn. She sashayed up to our table, her eyes twinkling with malice. "Oh, Mrs. Jarvis!" she chirped, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I'm so sorry, did I take your seat?" She didn't wait for an answer, sliding into the chair next to Carson, her hand possessively on his arm. "Carson just told me the most wonderful news! We're expecting!" My world tilted. Expecting. A child. His child. The child I couldn't give him. The child he had sworn he would never have with another woman. He had promised me. He had owed me. A tremor ran through me, so deep it rattled my bones. I remembered his desperate pleas, his tearful vows. "I owe you a child, Amelie. I will never let another woman carry my child. You are my only wife, my only love." Now, he merely stroked Karin's hand, his gaze filled with adoration. "A man needs an heir, Amelie," he said, as if it were a simple business decision, brushing away years of promises, years of pain. "And you... well, you understand, don't you?" Karin giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Carson says we'll move into your house, Mrs. Jarvis! He says it's big enough for our little family. I'll need a lot of space for the baby, and for all my new things, of course." Her eyes, full of insolent triumph, met mine. "I hope you'll take good care of me, Mrs. Jarvis. My pregnancy is very delicate." Carson squeezed her hand, his eyes beaming. "Amelie will take excellent care of you, darling. She's wonderful with... arrangements. You just focus on our baby. Nothing else matters." I closed my eyes, a silent scream trapped in my throat. I nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement of my head. Just like always. I would comply. Just like always. "Wonderful!" Carson beamed, truly happy for the first time in months. "And when the baby comes, we can have it call you 'Mother,' Amelie. How perfect would that be?" He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away, my fingers numb and cold. He didn' t notice. He was too busy smiling at his future, a future built on my ashes.