Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 1
Chapter 1
7
My husband was getting married.
Not somewhere else. Not in secret. In our house. With another woman. With my parents and his parents sitting in the front row, smiling like this was a blessing from heaven.
This was the first thing I saw after I tore myself out of a kidnapper’s grip and ran home barefoot, bleeding, half dead.
Among the guests, I saw him.
Westley George.
The man who chained me to a concrete floor. The man who broke my ribs when I cried too loud. The man who kept me for a full year and made sure I never forgot who owned my pain.
He was sitting comfortably, sipping champagne, laughing with my in-laws like an old friend. Back then, the chain burned my ankle raw as he crouched in front of me, fingers lazy around the key.
“You keep calling his name,” Westley George said softly. “Your husband? He will never save you. He handed you to me like an offering.”
I spat blood and shook my head. “You’re lying!”
He laughed, “He loves your sister. Always has. You? You were convenient. Expendable.”
I did not believe him. I remembered David’s hands at my waist, the way he kissed my forehead every night, the vows whispered like secrets. I clung to those memories like
scripture.
Westley only smiled wider. “Hold on to that,” he said. “It will hurt more when you finally see the truth.”
My vision went white.
A year ago, my husband had been taken.
David Vanderbilt. Mafia boss of the east coast. Untouchable. Feared.
They said he was kidnapped.
For our son. For the family. For the empire. I did not hesitate. I stepped forward and said take me instead. I thought I was being brave. I thought I was being a wife… I became the hostage. I became the bargaining chip. I became nothing.
And now my son?
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My little boy.
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Ryle Vanderbilt was walking through the crowd with a tray too heavy for his thin arms. He bowed his head at every step, voice small and flat.
“Please enjoy, sir.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I am sorry! I will be faster.”
He looked like he was afraid to breathe.
Like fear had been trained into his bones.
When I stumbled inside, the music stopped mid note. Every face turned. David was standing at the altar, ring in his hand. For half a second, his eyes widened.
Then his face went cold.
“This is a wedding!” he said sharply. “Whatever nonsense you came to say can wait until tomorrow. Look at you. Dirty. Bloody. You stink. Leave now and do not ruin this.”
I stared at him.
I wanted him to ask where I had been. I wanted him to ask why I was shaking. I wanted him to ask who did this to me. Instead, he looked at me like I was trash dragged in from the street.
I looked past him.
At the woman in white.
Roxanne.
My younger sister.
The girl I raised… The girl who cried in my arms when she was scared. The girl who called me sister like it meant something.
She would not meet my eyes.
Westley laughed softly from his seat.
My mother’s scream sliced through the room.
“You disgusting girl! Where have you been hiding?! David treated you like a queen and you repay him by sleeping with criminals? You disappear for a year and still dare come back here? Have you no shame? Do you want our whole family to be laughed at?”
Cheated? Me?
That was the word they chose? Huh. I almost laughed. My throat hurts too much. So this was the story…
Then an arm wrapped around my shoulder.
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I froze.
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Westley leaned close, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His smile was polite.
His voice was low.
“Still pretending we are strangers?” he said. “You really never learn, baby. I taught you obedience every night. Do you want me to remind you again in front of everyone?”
My knees went weak.
My body remembered before my mind did.
Whispers exploded around us.
“So that’s the man she ran off with.”
“No wonder Mr. Vanderbilt is remarrying. Any man would.”
“She comes from nothing. Look how low she fell.”
“Her mother worked this wedding like a maid. And her son is serving drinks. This whole family knows their place.”
David strode over, jaw tight, eyes irritated like I was an inconvenience. “Did you really have to come today?” he snapped under his breath. “I worked for a year on this. I wanted Roxanne to have a perfect wedding. Everything was finally peaceful. And you show up like this. Are you doing this on purpose?”
Just a wedding.
That was all it was to him.
Not the year I spent bleeding.
Not the nights I was beaten until I passed out.
Not the days I was starved until I licked rotten food off the floor just to stay alive.
All of it was just groundwork. A clean excuse. A pretty lie so he could stand here and marry my sister with everyone cheering.
Something inside me collapsed.
I walked toward my son.
“R-ryle,” I whispered. “Baby, come with Mama. We are going home.”
He looked at me like I was a ghost. Then he dropped to his knees so fast the tray crashed to the floor.
“No!” he cried, shaking. “I cannot leave. Please do not make me leave. I will stay. I will serve Mr. Vanderbilt and Ms. Cooper. I am loyal. I will work harder. Please do not punish me.”
He bowed his head and pressed his forehead to the ground.
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11:04 Wed, Jan 28
I felt my heart tear open.
My husband watched.
My sister looked away.
And the man who destroyed me smiled like he owned everything I loved.
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