“You Can’t Even Walk!” He Mocked Her — But What She Did Next Left Them Speechless

“You can’t even walk!” he sneered, towering over her, lips curled in cruel amusement. He stood beside his wife… and his pregnant mistress.

“Why are you even here?” he scoffed. “Don’t you get it? Your life is over. I… I have a new life now.”

Elena didn’t answer.

She just looked at them.

Both of them.

He: restless, sweating, the collar of his shirt wrinkled — much like his conscience.

She — the mistress: flawless, serene, as cold as a soulless hospital waiting room.

After a long silence, Elena finally spoke, her voice flat and emotionless, like a flatlined heartbeat.

“So… why are you here?”

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze.

“I thought it was better you heard it from me first… before someone else told you. We’re moving. Into the apartment.”

“My apartment?” Elena asked.

“Well… it was ours. But… I can’t keep living with…” — he gestured vaguely toward her legs, as if that explained everything.

Elena calmly reached for a slim file resting on the table. She had been waiting for this moment.

“Here it is,” she said, handing it to him. “Everything’s inside.”

He blinked.

“What is this?”

“The will. Ownership transfer. You need a place to start, don’t you?”

“You’re giving us the house?” he asked, shocked.

“Just like that?” the mistress added, staying still, suspicious.

“Yes. It’s hers now. I have more important things to take care of.”

He laughed — short, smug — but it cracked into nervousness.

“More important? You? You can’t even walk!”

Elena closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, her gaze was calm. Steady. Not a trace of anger — only the plain, undeniable truth.

With deliberate movements, she pulled the blanket from her legs, untied her cane, and rose to her feet.

One step.

Then another.

The sound was quiet, but each step echoed louder than anything said so far.

He froze. The mistress’s mouth fell open in stunned silence.

“I was in an accident,” Elena said gently. “Not serving a life sentence.”

“But that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“How can you say that?” he stammered. “The doctors… you said…”

“I needed time. And space. And rest. And to stay away from you. You gave me all of that. Without realizing it.”

She walked to the door. Before leaving, she turned back.

Her voice rang clear and sharp — like a bell in still air.

“You took my home. I took your freedom.”

“What?” the mistress gasped, clearly unsettled.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice shaking.

Elena smiled — faint and cold.

“The file. Read it carefully. Especially… the last page.”

Then she walked out. Her steps were slow, but firm.

Behind her, the silence didn’t settle — it shattered. Like a quiet bomb exploding only inside their minds.

With trembling hands, he opened the file. Turned a page. Then another.

When he reached the last one, all color drained from his face.

His lips moved, but no sound came.

There, in the final paragraph, it read:

“According to the attachment clause, the property transfer is only valid if the new owner accepts sole custody of a child born from an extramarital affair.”

He looked up, stunned, eyes locked on the mistress.

“You… you didn’t say anything about a child.”

She lowered her eyes. Swallowed hard.

“Because…” she whispered, “…it’s not yours.”

Only one sound remained.

The dry, rhythmic tapping of Elena’s cane — fading into the distance.