Chapter 4

Diara stood before the towering gates of the Crownstar household, a place that had never once symbolized security and love but had since transformed into a gilded cage.

The mansion loomed over her, its grandeur masking the suffocating prison it had become. For years, she had blinded herself to the truth, clinging to the hope that her husband might one day see her, truly see her, and realize the depth of her love.

But now, as she stood on the threshold of this house, reality crashed down on her like a tidal wave—he had never loved her. He had never cared, not even once.

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and devoid of mirth. How foolish she had been to live in such a fantasy, to believe in a love that had never existed outside her own imagination.

Steeling herself, Diara pushed open the gates and walked up the stone pathway leading to the mansion.

Each step felt heavy, as if the memories of her time here were physically weighing her down. The grand doors loomed ahead, dark and imposing, but she refused to falter.

As soon as she stepped inside, she was met by the piercing gaze of her mother-in-law, a woman who had never hidden her disdain for Diara.

The older woman's face was set in a stern, disapproving scowl, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was clear she had been waiting for this moment, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Where have you been, you low-life?" her mother-in-law spat, her voice dripping with venom. Without warning, the woman's hand shot out, delivering a sharp slap to Diara's cheek.

The sting of the slap reverberated through Diara's skull, but instead of cowering, she simply smiled—a cold, mirthless smile that only deepened the older woman's fury.

Diara's hand slowly rose to her cheek, rubbing the spot where the slap had landed.

She could feel the anger boiling within her, a storm she had kept at bay for far too long. And in that moment, something inside her snapped.

Her eyes darkened, and without a second thought, Diara returned the slap with a force that sent her mother-in-law reeling.

The sound echoed through the grand foyer, sharp and final.

The older woman's eyes widened in shock, and she stumbled back, losing her balance and landing on the marble floor with a thud.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as she stared up at Diara, her expression a mixture of disbelief and fear.

She was utterly speechless, her mind struggling to process the fact that Diara had just dared to strike her back.

This was a woman she had always looked down upon, someone she had thought too meek, too docile to ever stand up for herself.

But before she could even think of a response, Diara's voice cut through the silence, cold and unyielding. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Diara's voice was low, filled with a quiet fury that sent chills down the older woman's spine.

"I've tolerated enough from you and that disgusting son of yours. I'm putting an end to this madness you call a marriage."

With those words, Diara stepped over her mother-in-law, her movements swift and purposeful as she walked through the house.

The opulent surroundings that once felt so suffocating now seemed trivial, insignificant in the face of her newfound resolve.

She didn't even glance back as she made her way to the dining room, bringing out the divorce papers from her bag she set on the table with a cold look.

Without hesitation, Diara picked up a pen and signed her name where it was required, each stroke of the pen a severance of the chains that had bound her to this toxic life.

The papers made a soft rustling sound as she left them on the table, a testament to the finality of her decision. This was it. She was done.

She then ascended the grand staircase to the room she had shared with her husband, the room in which she had never once shared with him since 2 years of marriage, her footsteps echoing in the empty halls.

The room was as she had left it, neat and pristine, as if it hadn't been touched since she was last here.

But she moved with purpose, packing her belongings into a suitcase, her mind set on leaving this place for good.

Each item she packed felt like reclaiming a piece of herself, a part of her that had been lost in the years of neglect and pain.

As she zipped up her suitcase and prepared to leave, she heard the sound of commotion from downstairs.

The voices were raised, frantic, and she could only guess what was happening. But Diara didn't care. Nothing and no one in this house could stop her now. She had made up her mind.

Diara stood at the top of the grand staircase, her luggage in hand, a cold smile playing at the corners of her lips as she watched the scene unfold below.

The moment she had long dreaded was finally here, but instead of the fear she once expected to feel, there was only a quiet, simmering rage. This was her final act of defiance, her last stand in the house that had imprisoned her for far too long.

"Diara, how dare you! You dirty, low-life scum! How dare you lay your filthy hands on my mother!" Kariyah's voice rang out, shrill and furious, echoing through the mansion's opulent halls.

She was a spitting image of her mother, eyes blazing with the same hatred and entitlement. Kariyah had always been her mother's puppet, echoing her every insult, her every demeaning remark. Together, they had turned Diara's life into a living hell, day after day, year after year.

But those days were over. Diara wasn't the frightened, submissive woman they once knew. She was no longer afraid.

Kariyah's voice continued to rise, each word dripping with venom. The sight of her, fuming at the foot of the stairs, might have once sent Diara into a trembling fit

. But now, Diara's cold smile only grew wider, her grip on her suitcase tightening as she descended the staircase, her steps slow and deliberate.

She could see the moment Kariyah realized that Diara was no longer under her control. The older woman's eyes widened in shock as Diara came closer, the fear barely concealed behind the mask of anger.

Kariyah's temper flared as she rushed forward, raising her hand in a blind fury, intending to slap Diara back into submission.

But Diara was ready. In one swift motion, she caught Kariyah's wrist, halting the attack before it could begin. The force of the grab sent a shockwave through Kariyah, who stared in disbelief at her immobilized hand.

Before she could even process what was happening, Diara delivered a stinging slap to Kariyah's cheek, the impact so fierce that it sent her crashing to the floor.

Kariyah gasped in pain, her hand flying to her reddened cheek as she looked up at Diara with wide, disbelieving eyes. It was as if she couldn't comprehend that the meek, obedient woman she had tormented for so long had just struck back.

Diara wasn't finished. The rage she had suppressed for years boiled over as she grabbed a fistful of Kariyah's hair, yanking her head back to force her to look up into her eyes.

Kariyah whimpered, tears streaming down her face as she tried to wriggle free from Diara's grasp, but Diara's hold was unyielding.

"I won't take any more of your nonsense," Diara hissed, her voice low and deadly. She shoved Kariyah aside, releasing her with a force that sent her sprawling across the floor.

Diara had always been yielding before doing whatever she can to curry their favor so as to please her husband but it was all fruitless

Kariyah wailed, her cries echoing off the walls as she clutched her head in pain.

Her mother, who had been frozen in shock, finally snapped out of it and rushed to her daughter's side, her face a mask of horror and rage.

But before she could utter a single word, Diara turned on her heel, her back straight and her expression unyielding as she walked toward the door.

As she reached the threshold, she paused, turning her head slightly to glance back at the two women who had made her life unbearable.

Kariyah was still on the floor, crying, while her mother crouched beside her, too stunned to react. The sight of them filled Diara with a sense of satisfaction she hadn't felt in years.

"Tell your son that I'm done," Diara said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. Without waiting for a response, she stepped out of the house, the door closing behind her with a finality that resonated deep within her.

As Diara walked away from the Crownstar mansion for the last time, she felt an overwhelming sense of liberation.