Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 13
Chapter 13
The bullet hit the floor beside his knee. Concrete flew. He screamed until his voice
cracked.
“Mark,” I said. “Bring the rest.”
Six men were dragged in and shoved down. Crying. Hands shaking. Begging me not to
kill them.
I didn’t look at them.
I looked at Westley. “Start talking. Slow. Every damn thing.”
He broke completely.
“The chair,” he sobbed. “I chained her. Barefoot. She begged all the time. I burned her when she screamed. Cigarettes. Please stop looking at me like that. I couldn’t stop it. Men watched. Some laughed. Some joined. I raped her. Over and over. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
My grip on the gun went white.
“Why keep her alive,” I asked.
He choked. “Roxanne paid me every month. Said keep her breathing but destroy her. Enough so you’d hate her.”
I swallowed fire. “Who ordered the last attack. The car. The grave. My son.”
He started shaking so hard he fell forward. “Roxanne. She wanted Isabella crippled. Not erased. Just enough to ruin her. She didn’t expect the boy to be there. Please
believe me.”
I snapped. “Why the fuck were you so close to her.”
He screamed it. “Because we were sleeping together. Please don’t kill me. Please. We’ve been doing it for two years. When you were away she came to me. Sometimes even when you were nearby. Quick ones. She said you were blind anyway.”
Bang.
I shot his leg. He screamed until he lost his voice.
“You fucked her,” I said coldly.
He nodded frantically. “Yes yes. Please David. I’ll testify. I’ll give you everything. Just don’t let me die.”
I lost it.
I kicked him. Punched him. Again and again until he was coughing blood and begging through tears.
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“You touched my wife,” I growled. “You watched my son suffer.”
He cried like a child. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you loved her.”
I stood up.
“Mark. Keep him alive.”
Mark nodded.
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“No doctors,” I added. “No mercy then after a month, kill him and feed to the piranhas.”
Afterwards, I sat alone. Gun still in my hand. Blood on my shoes. Isabella’s ring burned in my palm. Ryle’s dinosaur sat on the table.
I went to their graves that night. Knelt. Pressed my forehead to the stone.
“Blood for blood,” I whispered.
The wind smelled like the sea. The same sea that took them. I walked away differently. In the car, Ryle’s bruises flashed in my head. The way his eyes went scared whenever
Roxanne came near.
I pulled my phone out. “Mark. Review every camera in my house. Every second Roxanne was around my son.”
The hunt wasn’t over.
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Mark didn’t sleep for two straight days.
When he finally walked into my office, he looked like hell. Eyes red. Shirt wrinkled. Hands shaking. He didn’t sit. He just put the drive on my desk and said quietly, “Boss… you need to watch this yourself.”
I stared at him. “Say it.”
He swallowed. “Villa cameras. Old backups. Stuff Miss Roxanne never knew existed. The dates line up with every time you were overseas,”
My chest tightened. “Play it.”
The screen lit up.
First clip.
Living room.
Ryle was seven. Small. Too damn small. Sitting straight on the sofa like a soldier, hands on his knees, not moving an inch.
My throat closed. “Why the hell does he look like that.”
Roxanne walked into frame smiling. Sweet smile. The kind that used to fool me.
She crouched in front of him. Soft voice. Fake gentle. “Why are you sitting like that,
Chapter 13
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huh.”
:
She pinched his arm. Hard. Right where clothes would hide it.
Ryle flinched but didn’t cry.
My fist clenched. “Pause it.”
Mark didn’t move. He whispered, “Sir…”
“Pause it,” I snapped.
I stared at my son frozen on the screen. “Why didn’t he cry.”
Mark said nothing.
I said it myself. “Because he learned not to.”
The video kept playing.
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She leaned close to Ryle’s ear and whispered something. His face drained white.
“What did she say, I growled.
Mark’s voice cracked. “She told him if he told you anything, his mom would disappear
forever.”
Then she slapped the back of his head. Not hard enough to leave marks. Just enough
to hurt.
“Say sorry,” Roxanne ordered.
“I’m sorry,” Ryle whispered.
“Louder.”
“I’m sorry,” again.
“Again.”
“I’m sorry.”
She laughed and walked away.
Ryle didn’t move. Ten full minutes. Just sat there staring at the floor.
I felt something snap in my chest. “Turn it off.”
Mark clicked to the next file.
Basement. The one she personally ordered installed. Said it was for safety. I watched her shove Ryle down the stairs. He slipped. Fell. Scraped his knee. Blood soaked through his pants.
He cried out, “A-auntie it hurts.”
She grabbed his collar and hissed, “Shut up.”
She locked the door. “You stay here until you learn your place,” she said coldly. “And
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don’t you dare tell your daddy you saw me with another man on the bed.”
Ryle sobbed. “Please… I want mommy.”
Roxanne laughed. “You want what? Mommy? Oh, mommy ran away with another man. She hates you. That’s why she left.”
Time jumped.
Twelve hours.
Dark. No light. No food. No water.
Ryle curled into himself. Hugging his knees. Crying quietly like he was scared even the walls would hear.
“Mommy…” he whispered. “Daddy…”
Nobody came. I slammed my hand on the desk. It cracked. My vision blurred. I remembered Roxanne stroking his hair in front of me. Acting gentle. Acting kind and I was fucking blind.
The next clip rolled before I could stop it.
Kitchen.
She put a plate down in front of him. The food was rotten. Mold on the edges.
“Eat!” she said. “This is how your dirty mother fed you.”
Ryle gagged but cried anyway and vomited. She yanked his ear hard. Dragged him outside while the rain poured heavily outside.
Dog house camera.
She shoved him inside like trash.
“Stay here you, annoying bastard! This builds discipline.”
The maid whispered, “Miss Roxanne, it’s cold…”
Roxanne snapped, “Touch that door and you’re fired! You heard me?!”
The light went out.
Ryle hugged himself. Shaking. Whispering to no one, “I’m sorry, aunte- I’ll be good. I promise.”
I stood so fast the chair flew back. I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt crushed. I stood there alone, staring at the black screen.
My son was crying. My son was begging. And me? Blind. Stupid. Busy protecting the wrong woman.
I dragged a hand down my face. “I’m sorry, Ryle,” I whispered. “Daddy failed you.” The room felt too small. The guilt felt like it was eating me alive.
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And Roxanne?
She wasn’t getting mercy.
Not after this.
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