After the Miscarriage, I Left My Ruthless Husband

After that, he started bringing women home out of spite.

To keep me quiet, he poured jewelry and property into my accounts like hush money.

Every time the thought of divorce surfaced, I'd think of that golden promise.

I told myself, quietly, that he'd come back.

Then came our third anniversary. Conrad sought me out, made peace, and promised me a grand wedding.

I thought I'd finally waited long enough.

But when I brought the wedding invitations to his office, I walked in on him pinning Secretary Fox beneath him on the desk.

He saw me and didn't even flinch.

I grabbed the ashtray off the desk and hurled it at his forehead, screaming, "Why do you keep lying to me?!"

He shrugged like it was nothing. "Tracey, I gave you the home you wanted. I'm young—I want to have my fun."

"Then what about the wedding?" I pressed, refusing to let go.

"The wedding's just to shut those old bastards up so they stop eyeing the chairman's seat."

"And if I don't hold that seat, I can't guarantee what'll happen to the distillery your parents left behind."

"So be a good girl, Tracey. Do as you're told."

I thought of the distillery my parents had died protecting.

I gave in.

I believed he was the only family I had left.

I never imagined that future would only last three years.

A shriek from Desiree yanked me back to the present. She was pointing at the pregnancy report in my hand. "Tracey, you're pregnant!"

She pressed her fingers to her lips, laughing behind them, and let the blade drop: "Tracey, Conrad had a vasectomy for me three years ago. So the father of that child..."

The crowd below erupted:

"Three years of marriage and no baby—I figured Mr. Graves couldn't perform, but turns out he'd rather go under the knife than let his little side piece suffer!"

"Then again, that wife of his always acted so proper. Now that someone else knocked her up, what—is she pulling the same trick that dancer did, using a baby to claw her way in?"

His silence and the guests' cutting laughter sliced through my chest like a blade.

No wonder every time Conrad and I were in bed together, he'd coax me into turning off the lights.

I thought it was just his preference in bed.

I never imagined the truth was that ugly.

The memory of skin against skin with "Conrad" flooded back, and my stomach lurched.

I scrubbed at my own skin in disgust, rubbing until the red streaks showed, and still I couldn't stop.

Tears pooled in my eyes. The joy I'd felt learning I was pregnant had turned to shame.

He promised me a home, and he was the one who destroyed it.

I swallowed the acid burning in my throat, pulled off my wedding ring, and tossed it into the trash.

The band circled the rim once before dropping in, its sharp ring cutting clean through the noise of the banquet hall.

Childhood sweethearts. Three years of marriage held together by one promise. And now it was just—over.

"Let's get a divorce." The words left me slowly.

Shock flashed through Conrad's eyes. No matter how badly I'd fought him before, I had never said those words.

He looked down at me. "I'm not a man who breaks his word. I said I'd give you a home, and I will."

"Don't ever say those two words to me again. Once this is over, I'm taking you to get rid of it."

I laughed, the kind of laugh that comes from being pushed past fury. "What—you won't let me go because you still need me back home servicing the two of you in bed?"

"Tracey Simmons! You're out of your mind!"

His breathing turned heavy.

He'd controlled everything his whole life. The fact that I'd slipped his grip was making his jaw clench.

"Don't forget who's been propping up that distillery all these years."