Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 304 - Three Hundred And Three

The cold night air bit into their open wounds.

Outside Prince Liam’s gates, Carlos and Ashlyn were thrown onto the dirty street like bags of garbage. The royal guards turned and walked away, leaving them in the dust.

Carlos groaned as he pushed himself up from the ground. His back was on fire. His shirt was in ribbons, soaked in his own blood. He looked down at Ashlyn, who was still lying in the dirt, weeping quietly. Her dress was torn, and red whip marks covered her pale arms.

There was no pity in Carlos’s eyes. There was only boiling, selfish anger. He blamed her for everything. He forgot that he was the one who had offered her to the Prince. He only remembered the pain of the whip and the shame of being thrown out.

"Get up," Carlos hissed, grabbing her good arm. He pulled her up roughly, ignoring her cry of pain.

He dragged Ashlyn down the dark street until he saw a carriage for hire. He waved it down. The driver looked at their bloody, dirty clothes with suspicion, but Carlos threw a silver coin at him.

"To the Thompson estate," Carlos ordered harshly. "Now."

He pushed Ashlyn into the dark cabin of the carriage and climbed in after her. He sat as far away from her as possible.

The carriage ride was silent, but it was a heavy, suffocating silence. The wooden wheels bumped over the rough stones of the road. Every bump sent a fresh wave of agony through their beaten bodies. Ashlyn held her knees to her chest, shivering in the cold, her tears drying on her dirty face.

Carlos stared out the window into the dark city. His mind was racing. He was in deep trouble. He had failed Prince Liam, and he had been beaten like a common criminal. When he returned to the Thompson estate, his grandmother, Beatrice, would demand answers. He needed a story. He needed a way to protect himself.

He looked at Ashlyn huddled in the corner. His eyes narrowed. She was the perfect scapegoat. If he blamed her, he could save his own reputation. He could play the victim.

The carriage finally slowed down and turned into the wide courtyard of the Thompson estate. The large stone house stood quietly in the night.

Before the carriage completely stopped, Carlos grabbed the handle and threw the door open.

He did not wait for Ashlyn. He reached in, grabbed her shoulder, and pushed her hard.

"Get out!" he shouted.

Ashlyn lost her balance. She tumbled out of the carriage door and fell onto the hard stone courtyard. She scraped her hands and knees, letting out a sharp gasp.

Carlos climbed down after her. He reached into his pocket and handed another coin to the driver.

"Go," Carlos said.

The driver did not ask questions. He whipped his horses, and the carriage rolled away quickly, leaving husband and wife alone in the dim light of the courtyard lanterns.

Carlos turned to look at Ashlyn. She was slowly pushing herself up from the cold stones. Her hair was a tangled mess, her dress was ruined, and she was bleeding. But Carlos felt no guilt. He only felt a deep, burning resentment.

"You shameless woman," Carlos spat, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet night. He pointed a shaking finger at her. "You witch."

Ashlyn stopped moving. She looked up at him.

"Haven’t you ruined me enough?" Carlos yelled, taking a step toward her. His face was twisted with anger. "You made a fool of me in front of the Prince. You brought shame to my name. I’m divorcing you."

The word hung in the cold air. Divorce. For a woman in their society, it was a death sentence. It meant total ruin, complete disgrace.

But Ashlyn did not cry this time. The tears stopped. A sudden, chilling numbness washed over her. She looked at the man she had married. She saw how small, how weak, and how cruel he truly was. She had lost her baby. She had been whipped. She had been humiliated. She had nothing left to lose.

Ashlyn placed her bleeding hands on her knees and pushed herself up to a standing position. She stood tall, ignoring the searing pain in her back and shoulders.

She turned and looked him straight in the eye.

"You want to divorce me?" Ashlyn asked. Her voice was surprisingly steady. It was not a scream, but it carried a deadly weight.

She took a step toward him.

"You don’t have the right," she stated firmly.

She raised her arm and pointed her finger right at his chest.

"After all," Ashlyn said, her eyes flashing with a dark, bitter fire. "You harmed me first. You started this."

Carlos’s face turned red. He did not want to hear the truth. He did not want to be reminded of his own dirty actions.

"Shut up!" Carlos shouted at the top of his lungs. He raised his hand as if he was going to strike her.

The loud shouting broke the peace of the estate.

The heavy front doors of the main house creaked open. Warm yellow light spilled out onto the courtyard steps.

"Such commotion is disgraceful."

The voice was old, stern, and filled with authority.

From the doorway, Beatrice stepped out. The old woman leaned heavily on her wooden cane. Her face was lined with age and strict tradition. She hated noise and she hated scandals and both were happening in her courtyard , in front of her.

Beside her, holding her arm to keep her steady, was Marissa.

Marissa was dressed in a simple night robe, having been woken up by the shouting. She looked calm and composed, a sharp contrast to the bloody mess in the courtyard. She looked down the steps at Carlos and Ashlyn.

Beatrice squinted into the dim light. When she saw the state of her grandson and his wife, her eyes widened in shock. Their clothes were shredded. Dark red blood stained their shirts and dresses. They looked like they had been in a war.

Before Beatrice could ask a question, Carlos rushed forward. He needed to tell his lie first. He needed to control the narrative before Ashlyn could speak.

He fell to his knees at the bottom of the steps, bowing his head in fake sorrow.

"Grandmother," Carlos cried out, his voice filled with fake heartbreak. He pointed back at Ashlyn, who was still standing in the courtyard. "Ashlyn lacks virtue. She is a wicked woman."