He Tore Me Apart, Now It’s His Turn to Break

Hailey's POV

"You, with your worn-out body… I've disinfected and cleaned you up." Caden's voice cut through the room like glass, sharp and humiliating.

The look in his eyes reflected pure disgust, as if I were something beneath him, something used.

His friends howled with laughter, the sound thick with mockery.

I reached for my coat, trying to cover what little dignity I had left, but Caden moved faster.

He picked it up with a flourish, then turned and draped it over Veronica like he was playing some twisted hero.

"The weather's cold," Caden said softly to her. "Don't want my big baby and baby catching a cold."

His hand moved to her stomach like it was something sacred. She giggled and leaned into him like they were the center of some beautiful love story.

He swept her off her feet, carried her out the door, and didn't even glance back at me.

Like I wasn't standing there, soaked in alcohol, humiliated, bleeding.

Then came the parting blow.

"Don't forget the contract we signed in Holland. Unless we both agree to a divorce, you'll never leave me." His voice was casual, almost lazy.

I didn't even flinch. The wind outside bit at my skin, but it couldn't compare to the cold spreading in my chest.

Looking back over his shoulder, Caden paused, "I'll give you a chance. Be home before midnight, and I'll agree to the divorce."

Then the car door slammed shut.

Just like that, he was gone.

His friends stayed behind, still laughing.

One of them said, "Hey, Hailey, spend the night with me, and I'll take you home."

Another scoffed. "Don't be dumb. Caden posted about it. Anyone who helps her is off Riverford's list. You'd be risking your life."

I closed my eyes and let out a bitter laugh. Not because any of this was funny, but because I was starting to see the pattern.

The cruelty wasn't random. It was practiced.

An hour ago, I was lying on an operating table.

I stared at the tiny, lifeless form on the tray, tears falling uncontrollably. My body was still shaking from the pain of losing yet another baby—our baby.

Then I got a message from one of Caden's friends:

[Hailey, Caden's been drinking all day. No one can stop him.]

I thought Caden was heartbroken, too. I thought maybe he was spiraling because we lost the child. So I ignored the nurse's orders, pulled the IV from my arm, and left the hospital to bring him home.

But it wasn't grief. It was a celebration for the woman he actually loved.

"I'm sorry, Hailey," one of his friends murmured now, his voice low, apologetic. He looked away, then took off his coat and wrapped it gently around me. "Back then, Caden would've done anything to be with you. What happened?"

He sounded more confused than judgmental.

More heartbroken than I felt.

And for a second, I was just as dazed.

Caden had once chased me like I was the only thing that mattered. I'd rejected him so many times. Out of all the men who wanted me, he was the one I avoided the most—loud, impulsive, reckless.

I knew he loved without brakes, without boundaries. And deep down, I always feared that kind of love could turn violent.

I wasn’t wrong.

I remembered the day of the accident.

Smoke everywhere. The smell of gasoline choked the air. My legs were pinned under the seat. Flames were climbing up the frame of the car.

And then, there he was, Caden Wilder, tearing through the fire like a madman.

Blood dripped down his face as he smashed the glass, trying to reach me.

I was trapped under the crushed car seat, and the car was going to explode, so I pushed him out of the way.

"Get out of here, Caden! You'll die with me," I cried out.

"Hailey!" he screamed. "I'm willing to die with you! If we burn, let my brothers bury us together and tell the world I died for you!"

In the middle of all that smoke and noise, I looked at him so fiercely and so broken that I wasn't scared anymore.

"I'll marry you," I whispered.

Now I shook my head at the memory, like it belonged to someone else.

Someone naive.

Someone desperate to believe in something called forever.

"Guess true feelings really don't last, huh?" I whispered to no one.

I clutched the borrowed coat around my torn dress and started walking.

The winter night stretched out before me, cold and dark. Cars passed in the distance, their lights lighting the way as though they were watching over me.

My feet kept moving until the world started to spin. Everything went black.

I collapsed in the snow.

...

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

The doctor looked down at me as he said gently, "You had a miscarriage, Mrs. Wilder. You didn't rest. You went out in the snow. When they brought you in, you were hemorrhaging. We almost couldn't save you."

I didn't say anything.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I let the tears come.

"Sorry..." I whispered.

I wasn’t even sure who I was apologizing to. Maybe it was to myself?

For staying too long. For believing too hard. For surviving something that didn't feel like living anymore.