For Him I Waited, Now I Chase Mine

Chapter 6

The blinding flashbulbs exploded like a sudden downpour.

Cameras were trained on her like the muzzles of black, hollow guns as she lay curled up on the floor in disheveled clothes.

"Ms. Vale! We are reporters from The Citizen's Daily!"

"Answer directly—why did you try to harm Ms. Winsor, a national hero?"

"Ambassador Hawthorn took responsibility for you. Does that mean your marriage has already broken down?"

"Do you resent the organization's disciplinary decision? Is this your trigger for revenge against society?"

The rapid-fire questions, mixed with the staccato of shutters, lashed at her like whips.

A crowd quickly gathered at the ward entrance, their murmurs swelling into a buzzing roar.

"It's her! She pushed the woman who was brought back from overseas out of the vehicle!"

"How can someone be so vicious!"

In the chaos, a man with a scarf covering his face began stirring the crowd.

"Look at her! She's the reason Ambassador Hawthorn was punished and his career damaged!"

"She even harmed her own husband—the man who saved her life and made contributions to the country! Ms. Winsor is still unconscious in the ambulance!"

"Ungrateful wretch!"

"Someone like her doesn't deserve to be a military spouse!"

The atmosphere ignited instantly. A cup of lukewarm overnight tea was suddenly splashed at Aurelia.

Then came bread crumbs, fruit peels, even broom handles hurled at her.

Filth rained down over her. She coughed violently, choking.

She tried to retreat, backing into a corner, her hand accidentally brushing an old mop.

Instinctively, she grabbed the wet mop handle and held it in front of her, her voice hoarse. "Get away! It wasn't me!"

But this act of self-defense, under the cameras and provocation, was instantly twisted into "violent resistance" and "assaulting civilians."

"She's hitting people!"

"Grab that vicious woman!"

The crowd surged with even greater fury. Several burly men rushed forward, snatching the mop from her and shoving and kicking her down.

Blows fell like rain—on her shoulders, back, and abdomen.

Cynthia stood hidden at the back of the crowd, a flicker of satisfaction curling at the corner of her lips.

She signaled to two men mixed among the reporters.

They understood and slipped into the chaos.

One of them pretended to be shoved forward, but his heavy leather shoe deliberately aimed at Aurelia's curled abdomen and came down hard.

"Aaaah—!"

A piercing, agonized scream tore from Aurelia's throat.

Something inside her seemed to snap and collapse.

An indescribable pain flooded her body, followed by a sudden rush of warmth.

Her vision went black. She clutched her abdomen tightly, curling into a fetal position as cold sweat soaked her hospital gown.

"Blood! She's bleeding!"

A nurse screamed in panic.

The crowd froze in sudden chaos.

Just before her consciousness sank into darkness, she vaguely saw Director Arthur of the Department of Diplomatic Oversight forcing his way through the crowd with several uniformed officers.

"Move! Security forces—stop this!"

Then came endless darkness.

*****

When she woke again, she was in the bedroom of her marital home.

Her body felt as if it had been crushed; every bone ached, especially her lower abdomen, where a hollow, dull pain lingered.

Her trembling hand slowly moved to her stomach.

That faint sense of connection... was gone.

Something inside her was hollowed out.

A man sat in the shadows at the foot of the bed.

Lucien had been there for who knew how long. His back was straight, yet he looked as if he were bearing an entire mountain.

Hearing the movement, he slowly lifted his head. His gaze was as cold as a blade dipped in ice.

"Aurelia, you really are... quite the schemer."

Her throat was dry and burning; she was still not fully lucid.

He gave her no chance to recover, continuing immediately, each word striking like a blow:

"The matter with Cynthia isn't even over, and you already dared to attack reporters from The Crownia Chronicle!"

"You beat them black and blue and even smashed their cameras. Aurelia, how did you become like this?"

"Just to cover your mistakes, you'll do anything—hurting others without restraint?"

"I didn't!"

Aurelia forced herself upright, pain shooting through her body. "It was Cynthia's setup! The reporters were hired by her! She incited the crowd!"

"Enough!"

Lucien cut her off sharply, rising abruptly, his chest rising and falling. "You're still slandering her!"

"I checked. At the time of the incident, Cynthia had already left the hospital with embassy staff due to illness. She has a solid alibi!"

As he spoke, he slammed a stack of newspapers onto the bedside.

They scattered across the bed. The front-page headline was shocking—

"Diplomat's Wife Violently Attacks in Hospital; Innocent Reporter Brutally Beaten"

The accompanying photo showed her in the corner holding the mop handle in self-defense.

The angle was deliberately distorted, emphasizing her "aggression" and the reporters' "victimhood," with close-ups of bruised faces.

"Human testimony, physical evidence, photos—everything is here! Ironclad proof!"

Lucien pointed at the papers, eyes icy. "Why do you always target Cynthia?"

"I've told you countless times—she is only someone I am obligated to protect!"

"Why can't you tolerate her? Why must you use such despicable methods to frame and harm her?"

Ironclad proof?

Looking at the distorted images and hearing his absolute condemnation, Aurelia felt blood rush to her head and her vision blur.

She grabbed the newspaper like a madwoman and tore it apart with all her strength. The fragments scattered like snow.

"Fake! It's all fake! Lucien, are you blind? Can't you see this is a setup?"

She screamed, tears of rage streaming down her face.

But no matter how hysterically she defended herself or how violently she tore the papers apart, Lucien only stood there, watching her with the same indifferent gaze he would use on a stranger.

Finally, after she knocked over the last vase beside the bed and it shattered with a piercing crash, she stopped.

Bending over, she panted heavily, as if all her strength had been drained.

Another wave of pain surged through her lower abdomen, reminding her of what she had just lost—and everything she had endured over the past five years.

Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at the man she had loved for five years.

She suddenly felt exhausted.

So exhausted that even defending herself felt like a luxury.

"Framing? You think everything... was me deliberately framing her?"

"Isn't it?" Lucien replied coldly.

"Heh..." Aurelia let out a hollow laugh, a bleak smile on her face. "Fine. Then take it as... I framed her."

She paused, then looked at him with empty eyes and asked, almost in despair:

"Then what? Ambassador Hawthorn, what are you going to do with me, this criminal with ironclad evidence?"

"Arrest me? Or... just kill me?"

Lucien's throat tightened violently. Looking at her pale face and that broken smile, it felt as if his heart were being clenched by an icy hand.

He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

After several seconds of dead silence, he suddenly turned and strode toward her study.

Aurelia's heart clenched.

"Lucien! What are you doing?"

Ignoring her weakened body and searing pain, she stumbled out of bed and chased after him.