Humiliation (Livia)

As a former model, Livia has been called many things by the media, anti-fans, and rivals—attention-seeking, insipid, gold-digging, self-absorbed, vain, shameless, arrogant… However, "ungrateful cunt" is not one of them. 

She almost laughs from shock. But she can only blink rapidly in bewilderment and stutter, "E-e-excuse me?"

The old man sneers and points his custom cane of rosewood and pattern-welded steel at her. "You wish you could be excused. However, what you are trying to do is simply unforgivable."

"Unforgivable?" Livia is perplexed.

"After all my fool of a son has done for you, how dare you try to rob me of my only grandson and the Vale family of its future heir!"

"Ah." Livia has not expected the news to travel so fast. 

"Is 'ah' all you have to say, you scheming bitch?" Henry snaps as he lowers his cane. 

"I have discussed this matter with Raylen an—" 

"I," interrupts the old man, "do not give a flying fuck what you two have discussed. It is already a kindness that I am willing to let you take the girl."

"I am taking them both," she replies with bravado she does not feel. "They are twins and should not be separated." 

"Then leave them both here and go back to your sordid world of entertainment. My son should have never married a cheap woman like you."

"I am not a cheap woman. I am their mother. I am taking them both with me."

A grotesque smile appears on the old man's wrinkly face. It is a face that has been hardened by decades of business intrigue and the smile only makes his features appear uglier and almost malicious. Shivers shoot up Livia's back as if a cold hand has seized the base of her spine.

"Ah, my dear," he says sarcastically, "you forget your place. You simply cannot take the twins with you. Not after signing the prenup. My son automatically gains custody of any children born within wedlock in the event of a divorce. Have you forgotten? I suppose that pretty little head of yours is indeed empty and incapable of retaining any information."

Livia curses her younger self for being too giddy with love that she signed the prenuptial agreement without looking at it closely. Now, she remembers seeing the clause and foolishly believing it would never be invoked. 

'Idiot,' she scolds herself mentally. 'Fucking idiot.'

For the first time in her life, she feels genuinely powerless. 

She does not need to read the prenuptial agreement again to know it is surely watertight. Unlike her, the Vales can afford the best lawyers. She is almost sure that Kai Blackwood had a hand in drafting that damn contract—he will surely be working on her divorce proceedings too. 

Her children, especially her son, are going to be taken from her and there is nothing she can do. 

Nothing she can do but beg.

"Please, fath—"

"I told you not to call me father. I have been right about you all along. You dirty, gold-digging slut. I was right to insist that both of you signed the prenup." 

Henry has finally chanced upon an insult that hurts. Raylen is the first man Livia has ever been with intimately. "I am," she protests helplessly, "really not a slu—"

The old man acts like he cannot hear her. "My grandson cannot be raised by you. Imagine the future Vale heir raised under the influence of an uneducated actress! What would become of him? What would become of the Vale family when it became his turn to lead it? Such a situation simply cannot be allowed to happen." 

Livia walks shakily towards Henry. Trembling, she sinks to the carpeted floor and tugs the hem of Henry's smoking jacket. 

"Father, please forgive me for my tone earlier. My children are my life. Please. I don't need alimony or child support. I just want my children."

Henry scoffs before raising his cane and pointing it at Livia's chest. He jabs it—hard—as he continues, "Your acting may have fooled my son for years, but save your crocodile tears. They will not work on me."

"Father, I am being sincere. I am not lying. Please."

He jabs his cane harder but Livia ignores the pain and humiliation. By tomorrow morning, every servant will know of her shame, but she does not care about that now. "Bullshit. Sincere? You just want my grandchildren as bargaining chips. You know very well that my son will not allow my grandchildren to be raised on a model's income."

"I am their mother and I love them more than life itself. I only want the best for them. I will raise them to the best of my ability."

"Nonsense," Henry retorts. "It is best for them to stay here. After all, they have been living here all their lives. They are used to this environment. I will not have my grandson live like a peasant with an air-headed mother. Either take the girl or leave them both here."

"Fath—"

"Are you taking the girl or not?"

Livia fights back her tears. "Y-y-yes." 

"Then this matter is settled," declares the old man. "See the Young Madam out. I wish to be alone" 

Elaine walks towards Livia and bows slightly. "Madam," she begins with a hint of desperation in her voice. "Madam, please."

Livia wipes her tears and looks around briefly. This is not her home. She shouldn't have seen it as such. This is the territory of the Vales. No one is on her side. Not Gertrude, not Elaine, and most certainly not Kai Blackwood. 

"Madam," the maid repeats. "Please. It is late. The Master needs to rest."

With Elaine's help, Livia gets up unsteadily. "Good evening, father. I'll return to my room now," she chokes out. She only receives a cough in response as the old man turns away, unwilling to even look at her as if she is beneath even that.

What is Livia's pride compared to her children? As it turns out, not enough.