"I asked you to keep it quiet after you got pregnant, but you ran to Joyce to confess. You made Joyce lose face in front of so many people on the set. She suffered from depression and ended her life, You put her in the ground, and yet I was the one who took the blame. Joyce's death is on you – doesn't your conscience weigh you down at all?"
The words sent fearful panic through Sheryl's heart.
The person she dreaded mentioning was Joyce.
"Fredric, don't you dare play the victim and twist things around," Sheryl snapped, her voice laced with venom, "You were the one who complained that Joyce was too sensitive, too fragile. You regretted proposing to her, remember? You said I was better for you, more bubbly and vivacious."
Fredric let out a derisive snort, "I thought you were a strong, independent woman who could handle herself. But you're worse than Joyce, clinging and desperate. If I'd married her instead of ending up with you, I bet I'd be happier."
Spitting on the ground in disgust, Sheryl shot back, "With your womanizing ways, your wandering eye, Joyce would've ended up depressed and suicidal anyway. Only I have been generous enough to forgive you. And now you want a divorce? I won't give you the satisfaction. If we're going down, we're going down together."
Their argument escalated, but Aurelia and Leopold exchanged a knowing look. It was time to step in and separate them.
"Sheryl, let's head back to the room," Aurelia said, wrapping an arm around Sheryl's shoulder. "Let's get the kids and go grab some breakfast. They must be starving."
As Aurelia guided Sheryl away, Leopold clapped Fredric on the shoulder.
"Man, you've got some soul-searching to do," Leopold said firmly, "Sheryl hasn't wronged you. You're the one who's messed up here. You desire freedom and your own way, but that also implies you should give her what she is entitled to. Why should she consent to a divorce that only serves your interests?"
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