Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 3
Chapter 3
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Back in Ryle’s room, I moved quietly.
I folded his clothes. Grabbed our passports. Birth certificate. Bank cards. A few things I could not replace if I lost them again.
I did not take much.
I had learned what it meant to live with nothing.
When I finally lay down, I pulled Ryle into my arms. His body was stiff even in sleep, like he was afraid to relax. I kissed his hair and closed my eyes.
Footsteps stopped by the bed.
“Still sulking?” David’s voice came lazily out of the dark.
The mattress dipped. He reached out and dragged me against his chest, one arm locking around my waist. His tone softened, like he was soothing a child.
“Belle, calm down and listen to me,” he murmured. “That kidnapping was staged. I only did it so you would not get jealous and make trouble for Roxanne. You know how you are… And Westley is my friend. His people know the rules. No one would actually hurt you. I protected you the whole time.”
He sounded proud.
Like he had done me a favor.
If he had just looked, really looked, he would have seen the scars on my arms. The bruises that never fully faded. The way my body flinched when he touched me.
I swallowed everything down and turned my back to him, putting space between us. “So what you are saying is that I should stay kidnapped. Let everyone think I ran off with another man. Let people call me the other woman. And let my own sister replace me as Ryle’s mother. Wow.”
David stiffened.
His patience cracked, even though he tried to hide it. I kept my voice steady, but my mind betrayed me.
Because the dark remembered before I did.
Westley’s hands were never gentle. They were claims. Orders. Every night blurred into the next, a locked room that smelled of alcohol and sweat and laughter that was not meant to be kind. When I cried David’s name, when I begged like a fool who still believed in rescue, Westley only laughed. He told me David had handed me over. Told me I was free. Free like a thing no one wanted anymore.
Chapter 2
อเด 90%
1:04 Wed, Jan 28
When he drank, the cruelty grew louder. He would pull me into the light, make me stand where his men could see. Their eyes stripped me faster than hands ever could. Laughter followed me everywhere. I learned to disappear inside my own body, to float somewhere far above the ceiling, to leave only skin behind.
I did not scream anymore. Screams were currency. Silence was survival.
And now David was behind me, breathing easy, telling himself a story where he was the hero. Where I had been protected. Where my fear was just jealousy dressed up as pain.
“You do not have to be so sharp,” he said coldly. “If Roxanne became his stepmother, that would just invite more gossip. The wedding was only for show. I had to do it so people would stop saying she seduced me. Do you understand?”
I almost laughed.
So my words were cruel because I called her a stepmother? Wow. Not because I had been erased.
I said nothing.
The silence irritated him. He looked around the room and noticed the bag by the bed.
“Why did you pack?” he asked, frowning. “Where do you think you are going when you’re just came back?”
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
Roxanne.
My younger sister.
Her crying filled the room, loud and desperate.
“Dave,” she sobbed. “The moment Isabella came back, she posted about me online. She said I stole her husband. That I am shameless. That I destroyed your family! She’s forcing me to leave.”
Her voice broke dramatically.
“Please talk to her. I know I was wrong. I will never mention the wedding again. If she’s angry, I will go outside and apologize to everyone. I will humiliate myself. Just please do not make me leave the country.”
David clicked the link she sent.
His face darkened. The post showed my photo. The words were vicious. Threatening.
I stared at the screen in disbelief. “That’s not me,” I said quickly. “I didn’t post that. Someone is pretending to be me-”
SLAP.
Chapter 3
2/5 9.6%
11:04 Wed, Jan 28
His hand came out of nowhere.
:.
The slap cracked across my face. My ears rang and I tasted blood.
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“Roxanne was your sister!” he shouted. “Your fucking damn younger sister. And you want to throw her out? How do you expect her to survive alone? You are disgusting. Truly vile.”
He turned away from me without another glance.
His voice softened instantly as he spoke into the phone.
“Don’t cry. I’m coming. No one will make you leave. I will handle her.”
Then he walked out.
The door closed.
The silence crushed me while I sat there, frozen and wondered.
When he left me with Westley, did he ever think about how I would survive alone? Did he ever worry if I was scared? If I was bleeding? If I would live to see another day?
I smiled without meaning to. My mouth tasted like metal. I lay back down and patted Ryle’s back as he stirred uneasily. I did not sleep again.
Morning came without mercy.
Ryle burned in my arms before the sun was fully up. His small body trembled, skin flushed, lips dry. When he cried, it was weak, broken, nothing like him. Panic slammed into me so hard I could barely breathe.
“Mommy’s here! I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I called David while wrapping Ryle in a blanket. “Ryle has a fever,” My voice cracked despite my effort. “It’s high. I’m taking him to the hospital.”
There was movement on the other end. Keys. A door. For one brief, stupid second, hope rose.
“I’ll drive,” he said. “I’m coming now.”
Relief almost made me cry. Then another call cut in.
Roxanne.
I heard her voice through the speaker before he even answered. Loud. Weak. Dramatic.
“Dave… my stomach hurts so bad. I’m vomiting. I can’t stand it. I think something is really wrong with me…”
Silence.
Then David exhaled sharply.
Chapter 2
3/5 10.4%
11:04 Wed, Jan 28
“Belle,” he said, already distant. “You take him first. I’ll come later.”
Later.
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I waited for him to say more. To choose. To remember he was a father. He didn’t. The line went dead.
I did not cry. I carried Ryle downstairs myself.
The family driver rushed to open the door when he saw Ryle’s condition. The car sped through the streets, the city blurring past like it was running from us.
Ryle whimpered against my chest. I rocked him gently, counting his breaths, pressing kisses into his burning hair.
“Stay with me,” I murmured. “Just stay with me.”
My phone vibrated again.
Messages.
Photos.
Posts.
My fingers went numb as I scrolled and every word stabbed.
Shameless. Cheater. Liar. Whore.
People I once knew commented beneath them. Old classmates. Distant relatives. Faces I recognized, all nodding along to the lie like it was gospel.
I tried to explain.
My hands shook so badly I mistyped every sentence. I rewrote it. Send it but my comment vanished.
Deleted.
I tried again.
Gone.
Again.
Erased.
My chest tightened. I could not breathe. Then the driver’s voice cut through my spiral, sharp with fear.
“Madam.”
I looked up. He gripped the wheel hard, knuckles white.
“There’s a car following us.”
My stomach dropped. I turned, heart pounding, and looked through the rearview
mirror.
11:04 Wed, Jan 28
One car.
Then two.
Then more.
:
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They appeared like shadows spilling onto the road, surrounding us slowly, deliberately.
“No plates! At least ten. They’re speeding up.”
I saw iron bars glint in the sunlight. Arms hanging out of windows. Faces hidden under caps and cloth.
My blood turned cold.
Ryle stirred, crying weakly. I pulled him closer, shielding his face with my body as if flesh alone could stop metal. I grabbed my phone and dialed David.
Once.
Twice.
No answer. The cars closed in.
The driver swerved, sweat pouring down his face.
“They’re blocking the front,” he shouted. “Madam, hold on!”
11:05 Wed, Jan 28
Then it happened.
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