The Womanizer's Mute Wife-Chapter 240: Not On Her

Genesis stood just inside the visitation room, blocking the only exit. She hadn’t taken a seat. She didn’t need to. The scratched metal table between them felt like a flimsy prop.

Monica’s eyes darted from Genesis’s face to her stomach, then back up. Fear lived openly in them now—raw, unguarded. The woman who once ruled her world with silk gloves and sharp words looked small, old, breakable.

Genesis searched that face, the new wrinkles carved deep around the mouth and eyes, the streaks of gray-white threading through hair that used to be glossy black, the exhaustion that had hollowed out the once-imperious cheekbones. She waited for the hatred to rise, hot and familiar.

It didn’t come.

Anger was there, yes, coiled tight in her chest like a sleeping snake. But the loudest thing roaring through her veins wasn’t rage.

It was pity.

Pity for the woman who could have been a mother.

Who could have held her when she cried after the car accident.

Who could have loved her instead of breaking her.

Who could have chosen kindness and instead chose hate.

Genesis took one slow step forward.

Monica flinched.

"W-what do you want?" Monica’s voice cracked. "Are you here to gloat?"

Genesis said nothing.

"Please... just get out." Monica’s hands shook on the table. "You got everything you wanted. The house. The money. The company. You won. Just leave me alone."

Still nothing.

Monica’s eyes flicked to the door. "Guard!" she called, voice thin and desperate.

Silence answered.

Genesis chuckled, soft, almost gentle sound.

Monica’s heart slammed so hard Genesis could see the pulse jumping in her throat.

Monica stood quickly, chair scraping back. "Where’s the guard? What did you do to him?"

Genesis stepped sideways, blocking her path completely.

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice quiet, looking down at Monica now, literally and figuratively.

Monica tried to sidestep. Genesis moved with her.

Monica’s breathing turned shallow. "What are you doing? Why is no one coming?"

Genesis tilted her head. "Why? Are you scared?"

Monica’s eyes widened.

Genesis smiled, slow, and sweet.

"You’re scared now," she said softly. "You can hear your own heart, can’t you? The way it’s hammering. The way your pulse is jumping right here..." She reached out slowly and pressed two fingers lightly against Monica’s neck.

Monica jerked back, back hitting the wall with a soft thud.

Genesis stepped closer.

"You’re terrified I might do something to you. A pregnant woman might hurt you?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You tried to destroy my womb once. Remember? That poison you forced me to drink."

Monica’s face drained of color. "I... I didn’t...."

"You did." Genesis’s voice cracked just once. "And it didn’t work. They’re still here." She laid a hand over her small bump. "Growing. Kicking. Alive."

Tears welled in Monica’s eyes. "Genesis, please..."

Genesis shook her head. "No. You don’t get to beg now."

She took another step.

Monica pressed herself flatter against the wall. "Don’t do anything rash..."

Genesis laughed. "Don’t do anything rash? Why didn’t you tell that to yourself when you were making my life a living hell?"

Her voice rose, trembling with the weight of fifteen years.

"I could have loved you," she said, tears spilling now, hot and fast down her cheeks. "I wanted to. When Dad died, when I was six and upside down in that car, bleeding and screaming for him—I wanted a mother so badly when I had nightmares over and over again about that day. I would have loved you with everything I had. I would have followed you anywhere. I would have called you Mom and meant it."

Monica sobbed openly now, sliding down the wall until she sat on the floor, knees to chest.

"But you didn’t want me," Genesis continued, crying harder, voice splintering. "You wanted silence. You wanted control. You wanted me gone. You locked me in rooms. You starved me. You drugged me. You let that doctor..." Her voice broke completely. "You let him rape me. Over and over. And you paid him for it. You signed the papers. You took the money. You told me never to speak again because every word I said killed people. You made me believe my own voice was poison."

Genesis crouched slowly in front of her, tears streaming.

"And your sons..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They hurt me too. You pretended it didn’t happen. You let them think it was okay. You let them think I deserved it."

Monica shook her head violently. "I didn’t, I didn’t know they..."

"You did nothing," Genesis cut in, voice raw. "That’s worse. You did nothing while they broke me. While they touched me. While they laughed. And now you sit here pretending they’re innocent. That they were just boys. That they didn’t know."

Monica reached out, sobbing, trying to grab Genesis’s hand. "Please... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was wrong. I didn’t know how bad.."

Genesis pulled back sharply.

"Don’t touch me."

Monica’s hand fell.

Genesis stood slowly, wiping her face with shaking fingers.

"I heard you want a plea deal," she said quietly.

Monica looked up, desperate. "Yes, yes, anything. I’ll plead. I’ll cooperate. I’ll..."

Genesis shook her head. "You’ve forgotten who I married."

Monica froze. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Genesis’s voice turned cold, final.

"My husband is the monster you created when you tried to break me. And I learned from him. You will spend the rest of your life in that prison. You will never come out. And your boys..." She let the words hang. "They’ll wish they were locked up."

Monica’s sobs turned frantic. She scrambled forward on her knees, grabbing at Genesis’s legs.

"Please Genesis, no, don’t do this. They’re my babies. They didn’t know..."

Genesis stepped back, shaking her off.

"They did," she said softly. "And you let them."

She turned and walked to the door.

The guard opened it without a word.

Genesis stepped through.

Behind her, Monica collapsed fully to the floor, wailing, raw, animal sounds echoing off concrete walls.

She cried for her sons.

She cried for the life she’d lost.

She cried knowing she would never see them again.

Never escape.

Never be forgiven.

And Genesis walked away, head high, tears still drying on her cheeks, carrying the weight of fifteen years finally placed where it belonged.

On Monica.

Not on her.