Page 98 of The Edge Of Us

The officer nodded. "Go ahead."

"I want a judge to officially declare him mentally unwell and order him into a reformation institution. A real one. Not one of your private estates disguised as rehab. If he tries to see me or the kids before a therapist deems him fit, I'll press full charges without hesitation."

Judith opened her mouth to object, but Jasper stepped forward again.

"And if anything happens to her-any harassment, any threats-we will bury you in court. Your family's name won't survive the scandal. Do you understand?"

There was silence. Then Gerald nodded. "We agree."

The officer glanced between us and scribbled into his notepad. "Understood. I'll pass this along to the DA and your legal team. Thank you, Ms. Corinne."

When they left, Jasper sat beside me and gently took my good hand in his. He stared at the stitches, at the trembling in my fingers.

"You should've let me destroy him," he whispered.

"No. This way is better," I said softly. "I won't let his darkness infect my soul."

He looked at me like I was made of fire and glass. "You're the strongest woman I know."

And as he kissed the back of my bandaged hand, I felt something I hadn't in days.

Safe.

Truly, finally, safe.

Chapter 54

Allen

I woke up to blinding light.

The sterile scent of disinfectant, the beeping machines, and the quiet hum of voices around me all told me exactly where I was-a hospital. I blinked slowly, my eyelids heavy, dry. My mouth was parched. Everything ached. But the most painful sensation wasn't in my body. It was in my chest. An ache that ran deeper than the wound in my stomach.

"He's awake," I heard someone whisper. My mother's voice. Soft, breathy, trembling.

"Allen, honey?" My father's hand gripped mine. I turned my head, slowly. There they were, eyes full of tears. It wasn't relief in their gaze. It was sorrow. Shame. Fear.

And then it hit me. Everything. The knock on Corinne's door. Her screams. The blood. The gun. The look on her face. The children.

"No," I croaked, squeezing my eyes shut. "No, no, no. What did I do? What did I-"

"Shh," my mother said, brushing my hair back. Her hands were cold. Or maybe mine were just burning with guilt.

"Corinne," I whispered. "Is she okay? The kids..."

"She's alive," Dad said gently. "Stitched up. Your bullet hit her hand when she tried to take the gun from you. The security team got there in time. She's safe. So are the kids."

I let out a choked sob, turning my head toward the wall. I wanted to crawl into myself and never return. I had become the monster I promised her I'd never be.

"She didn't press charges," Mom said after a while.

I turned slowly back to them. "What?"

"She didn't press charges," she repeated. "She had the right to. And believe me, we wouldn't have stopped her. But she made a decision. With one condition."

Dad cleared his throat. "You're not allowed near her or the kids until a judge determines you're mentally stable. And you have to go into reformation treatment. Psychiatric help."

"I..." I didn't know what to say. Shame swallowed me whole. I didn't deserve her mercy. But somehow, Corinne still had a piece of her heart left for compassion.

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