“Your mother has passed, and crying won’t change that—so wipe your face, prepare dinner, and don’t look like a mourning child when my guests show up,” my husband told me only two hours after I returned

I approached the couple who were still arguing. My steps were quiet, but each one silenced them. Perhaps the aura of authority I had inherited from Mrs. Vance now ran through my veins. I looked directly into Jessica’s eyes. The woman instantly lowered her head, not daring to meet my gaze. She had looked down on me before for my simple appearance, but now she seemed very small before me. I spoke in a low but powerful voice. I told Jessica that I had known everything for a long time, but I had kept silent, hoping Mark would change, but it turned out my silence had only emboldened them. I pointed to the plates of food scattered on the table—the same food Jessica had tasted and despised earlier.

I told her in an icy tone to enjoy that last meal. I told her it was the last meal she would eat comfortably in this house and perhaps the last decent meal before facing justice. My words terrified Jessica even more. She tried to grab my hand, begging for forgiveness, calling me “dear Sarah” in an attempt at familiarity, but I pulled my hand away in disgust. I didn’t need apologies from the woman who had destroyed my home and insulted my mother on the day of her funeral. Mr. Harrison looked at me with pride. He saw in me the reflection of Mrs. Vance. He took control of the situation again.

In a firm voice, Mr. Harrison declared that this evidence was more than enough to bring them to justice. Embezzlement of company funds was not a minor issue. It was a criminal offense. Mr. Harrison ordered his bodyguards to confiscate the handbag and jewelry Jessica was wearing as evidence. Those items had been purchased with company money and were technically company property. Jessica screamed hysterically. When the bodyguard asked her to remove her watch and designer bag, she was completely humiliated and stripped of her luxuries in front of all the people who had once admired her. Her mask was completely broken, revealing her true greedy and cowardly nature. Mark watched as Jessica was treated like a criminal and knew he was next.

Reality hit him with brutal force. The director position he had just celebrated was gone. The inheritance he dreamed of had vanished. The mistress he boasted about turned out to be a latent enemy. And the wife he had trampled on now had full control of his destiny. Mark’s legs gave out. He fell to his knees right in front of me. The man who had yelled at and insulted me two hours ago. The man who had ordered me to serve his guests like a servant now knelt at my feet like a miserable beggar. Tears streamed down Mark’s face. Snot ran from his nose, mixing with the tears, making his face look extremely disgusting.

He began to sob and beg for forgiveness. He grabbed the hem of my dress, trying to kiss my feet. He said he had lost his mind, that the stress of work was so great he had sought an escape. He said he could swear to God he still loved me. He begged me to remember the beautiful memories of our courtship, the sweet beginnings of our marriage. He begged me to forgive him and withdraw Mr. Harrison’s complaint for the sake of our love, for our sacred marriage vows. He even promised to change, to be a good husband, to pray a lot, to do anything if I gave him a second chance.

Hearing those cheap flatteries and stale promises, I felt nauseous. Perhaps the old me, the foolish woman who always believed he could change, would have softened at the sight of his tears. But my mother’s death and today’s events had killed that old Sarah. I looked at Mark with an empty, emotionless gaze. I remembered Mark’s reaction when I returned from the funeral and was crying. That sentence echoed clearly in my ears: “What good is crying going to do? Your mother isn’t going to come back to life.” That sentence was now a boomerang coming back to hit him. I took a step back, freeing my dress from his dirty hand.