Chapter 12: Reckoning

Saturday arrives faster than I expect. I wake up early, my mind already buzzing with the anticipation of what’s to come. I choose my outfit carefully—something understated, yet elegant. A sleek black dress, simple jewelry, and a pair of heels that add just the right amount of height. I want to look good, to feel confident, and to remind everyone in that room that I’m not the pitiful ex-wife—no, I’m a force to be reckoned with.

As I stand in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on my makeup, I feel a surge of adrenaline course through me. This is it. My moment of reckoning.

Mrs. Greene knocks on my door, and I open it to find her beaming up at me.

“Oh, Liberty, you look absolutely stunning!” she gushes, her eyes twinkling. “Off to a fancy event, I see?”

“Something like that,” I reply with a wry smile. “Thanks for taking care of Mr. Mittens today. I shouldn’t be too late.”

“Take your time, dear,” she says, waving me off. “Mr. Mittens and I will be just fine. You go and have a wonderful time!”

Wonderful time. Right.

I make my way out of the building and hail a cab. The drive to the baby shower feels surreal, like I’m on autopilot. The city buzzes around me, but I’m lost in my thoughts, replaying the scenes I’m about to create. I can see it all so clearly—Aunt Karen’s horrified expression, Anne’s tears, Joe’s anger.

The cab pulls up to the venue, a charming little bistro that Anne has rented out for the occasion. The windows are decorated with pastel balloons, and I can see people milling about inside, already deep in conversation. I pay the driver, take a deep breath, and step out onto the sidewalk.

Here goes nothing.

I walk into the bistro, my heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. The room is filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, and for a moment, I feel a pang of nostalgia. These are people I had once considered family, people I had grown up with, shared holidays and birthdays with. But now, it all feels distant, like a dream I have woken up from.

Anne spots me first, her face lighting up in surprise. She looks radiant, her pregnant belly prominent in a flowing pink dress, her blonde hair styled in loose waves. For a moment, I hesitate, feeling the old bond between us tug at my heart. But then I remember why I’m here, and the resolve hardens within me.

“Liberty! You made it!” Anne exclaims, making her way over to me. She reaches out to hug me, but I take a step back, avoiding her touch.

“Of course,” I say, my voice calm and measured. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Her smile falters slightly, but she recovers quickly, gesturing for me to follow her. “Come on, everyone’s here! They’ll be so happy to see you.”

I follow her into the main room, where the guests are gathered around a beautifully decorated table, filled with gifts and snacks. Aunt Karen is there, of course, holding court with a group of older women, her sharp eyes landing on me with a look of approval.

I plaster on a smile and greet the guests, exchanging pleasantries while my mind races, trying to find the perfect moment to strike. Joe

is across the room, talking to a group of his buddies, laughing and drinking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

As the party goes on, I can feel the tension building within me, the words I want to say bubbling just beneath the surface. I wait for the right moment, watching for the perfect opportunity to reveal the truth about Joe and Anne. But before I can make my move, Anne claps her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone, it’s time for the big moment!” she announces, her voice filled with excitement. “We’re going to do the gender reveal!”

A cheer goes up from the guests, and I feel my heart start to race. Joe is practically vibrating with anticipation, a smug smile on his face as he moves to stand beside Anne.

“I’ve got a feeling about this,” Joe says loudly, his eyes gleaming with pride. “We’re having two boys. I just know it.”

Anne smiles up at him, her eyes shining as she hands him one of the confetti cannons. The other she keeps for herself. They stand together, side by side, their hands poised to pull the triggers.

“On the count of three!” Anne calls out. “One... two... three!”

They both pull the triggers, and a burst of pink confetti explodes into the air. For a moment, there’s a stunned silence as the pink paper flutters down, dusting Joe’s shoulders and landing in his hair. Then Anne lets out a delighted cry.

“Girls! Two girls!” she exclaims, tears of joy streaming down her face.

The room erupts in cheers and applause, the guests clapping and laughing as pink confetti continues to rain down. But I’m not watching them. I’m watching Joe. His face has turned a deep shade of red, his eyes wide as he stares at the pink confetti like it’s some kind of cruel joke.

He raises his hands, his fists clenched, and then, without warning, he slams them down on the table in front of him. The sound echoes through the room, followed by the sharp crack of the table splitting under the force of his blow. The guests fall silent, the laughter dying in their throats as they turn to stare at Joe in shock.

“What the fuck?” Joe snarls, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He’s breathing heavily, his face twisted in rage as he glares at Anne. “You were supposed to give me a son! At least one son! This bitch,” he points at me, his eyes burning with fury, “killed my first one!”

I feel the words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. The room is spinning, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to process what he’s just said. I’ve always been so broken up about our son's stillbirth, and a part of me had felt it was my fault, but hearing Joe say it out loud—hearing him blame me like this—is more than I can bear.

One of Anne’s friends’ husbands steps forward, trying to calm Joe down, but Joe shoves him away, his movements wild and erratic. He’s lost control, and everyone in the room can see it.

“Two useless fucking girls,” Joe spits, his voice filled with venom as he turns on Anne. “What the fuck, Anne?”

Anne’s face crumples, her hands shaking as she tries to hold back her tears. But it’s no use. She collapses into her chair, sobbing uncontrollably while her friends rush to comfort her.

I’m frozen in place, my mind racing, my emotions a tangled mess. I’ve been on the receiving end of Joe’s fury before, and I know how terrifying it can be. A part of me had come here to hurt them, to reveal their betrayal and watch them squirm, but now... now all I can feel is a deep, overwhelming sense of pity.

Despite everything Anne and Joe did to me, despite the lies and the betrayal, I can’t stand to see her like this. I can’t stand to see anyone go through what I went through. I take a deep breath, my resolve softening as I make a decision in that split second.

I walk over to Anne, laying a hand on her shoulder, my voice soft and gentle. “It’s not your fault, Anne.”

To my surprise, Anne whacks my hand away, her eyes blazing with anger and grief. “No, it’s not—it’s your fault!” she screams, her voice raw and filled with pain. “All of this is your fault! Just go away, you bitch! LEAVE!!!”

I stumble back, shocked, my heart sinking as the room falls into an even deeper silence. The guests are staring at me, their faces a mix of confusion and judgment, but I don’t care. I can’t stay here. I can’t take any more of this.

Without another word, I turn and walk out of the bistro, my hands shaking as I push open the door and step out into the cool night air. My mind is racing, my emotions all over the place as I try to make sense of what just happened.

I hail a cab and slide into the back seat, barely able to get the words out as I give the driver my address. As we pull away from the bistro, I feel a strange mix of emotions—satisfaction, anger, and a deep, aching sadness.

But beneath it all, there’s a sense of resolve, of determination. I’ve faced my demons, confronted the people who have hurt me most, and now, I’m ready for whatever comes next.

As the cab weaves through the streets of New York, I lean back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment. I think of the experiment, of Frigid Rock, and the challenges that await me.

I’m ready.