Escape from Possessive Husband

I stared at the divorce papers in my hands, feeling a strange sense of calm. The thick manila folder contained my freedom—a chance to escape the prison I'd apparently built for myself over five years. Though I couldn't remember a single day of my marriage, the evidence of its toxicity surrounded me like a suffocating cloud.

Three weeks had passed since I'd awakened in the hospital with selective amnesia. Three weeks of discovering painful truths about my life with Cameron Scott—a husband who treated me with cold indifference when he bothered to acknowledge me at all. The reopened wound on my head had finally healed, but the emotional wounds were still raw and bleeding.

I took a deep breath and knocked on Cameron's study door.

"Enter," came his clipped response.

He sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, not bothering to look up from his laptop as I walked in. The study was meticulously organized—sleek, modern furniture arranged with military precision, not a single personal photo or memento in sight. It felt as sterile as our interactions.

"I need to talk to you," I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

Cameron sighed dramatically, as if I'd interrupted something of monumental importance. "Make it quick. I have a conference call in fifteen minutes."

I placed the divorce papers on his desk, sliding them toward him. "I want a divorce."

That got his attention. His eyes flicked from the papers to my face, his expression morphing from surprise to amusement. A cold smile spread across his handsome features as he leaned back in his chair.

"Really, Taylor? This is your new strategy?" He chuckled, the sound devoid of any warmth. "First the convenient amnesia, now divorce papers?"

"This isn't a strategy," I insisted. "I don't remember our marriage, but I've seen enough to know it's not something I want to continue."

Cameron stood, towering over me with that same amused expression. "You've been spending too much time with Sariyah. She's always had a talent for dramatic ideas."

"Sariyah helped me find a lawyer, yes, but this is my decision."

He picked up the papers, flipping through them with casual disinterest. Then, maintaining eye contact with me, he slowly and deliberately tore them in half, then quarters, then eighths, letting the pieces flutter onto his desk like confetti.

"You're just playing hard to get like you always do," he said, his voice dropping to a condescending whisper. "This pathetic act won't work on me anymore."

I stared at the shredded remains of my escape plan, feeling a strange mix of anger and relief. Anger at his dismissal, but relief that his reaction confirmed everything Sariyah had told me about our marriage.

"This isn't an act," I said quietly. "And tearing up the papers doesn't change anything."

Cameron circled the desk, stepping uncomfortably close to me. I could smell his expensive cologne—sandalwood and something sharper beneath. "Five years, Taylor. Five years of the same tiresome games. You threaten to leave, I ignore it, you crawl back begging for attention." He traced a finger along my jawline, and I fought the urge to recoil. "But I must admit, the amnesia angle is creative. Did you think forgetting me would make me want you more?"

I stepped back, breaking contact. "I didn't choose to forget you. But maybe my mind knew what it was doing."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Taylor. You're my wife. That hasn't changed just because you've decided to play make-believe."

"I'll get more papers," I promised, turning to leave.

"We'll see," he called after me, his voice laced with smug certainty. "Grandfather's birthday banquet is tomorrow night. I expect you to be there, playing your role perfectly. After all, amnesia or not, you're still a Scott."

I paused at the door. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll make sure your little friend Sariyah regrets ever giving you ideas." His threat was delivered so casually it took a moment to register. "Her design firm does a lot of business with Scott Industries. It would be a shame if those contracts suddenly disappeared."

I left without another word, my hands shaking with rage. Sariyah had warned me about this—his pattern of threats and manipulation whenever I'd tried to assert independence in the past. I might not remember those instances, but my body remembered the fear, the helplessness.

But something had changed. The Taylor who had endured five years of emotional abuse was gone, replaced by someone who saw Cameron Scott for what he truly was. And that Taylor—the new Taylor—wasn't going to back down so easily.