He Was My Everything, Now I’m His Nightmare

The next day, when I stepped into the kitchen, Cara was already there. She perched at the marble counter, sipping my favorite green tea. She wore one of my sundresses, her hair perfectly styled, makeup done as if she’d just stepped off a runway. She looked up, smiling like she hadn’t spent the night in the guest room banging my husband.

“Morning, Camilla,” she chirped. “Leon’s just finishing packing. He said he tried to be quiet so you could rest, but you know how early he must leave for the airport.”

The smell of her perfume, Leon’s favorite, filled the room, and I almost gagged.

Just then, Leon entered. He didn’t look at me. His eyes found her instantly, softening the way they never did for me anymore. For a moment, I thought he might actually kiss her in front of me. Then his gaze went to me, cold, distant, businesslike.

“We have a meeting in Hawaii,” he said. “Don’t wait up for us. We’ll be gone for a few days.”

“Both of you?” I asked, my voice light, almost curious.

Inside, I felt the burn. I’d heard the thud of the headboard last night, the soft laughter, the muffled sounds through the wall, and him saying he planned a trip for them to Hawaii. My ears couldn’t stop hearing them even until now.

“Yes,” he replied sharply. “It’s business. You’ll stay here. No visitors, no reporters, no unnecessary noise. I don’t want another scandal. The Carver merger is almost finished. I don’t want it to fail on the last minute.”

Scandal. Of course, it was always me who caused the problem.

I smiled faintly. “Of course.”

Cara’s lips curled. “It’ll give you time to rest, Camilla. Space can help.”

Space. That was all they’d ever left me: empty space, cold sheets, unanswered calls.

Leon checked his watch, irritation flashing across his face. “We’re late. Make sure everything stays in order while I’m gone.”

“Have a productive trip, Leon,” I said quietly. “And you too, Cara. I hope you both truly enjoy your time away.”

He gave a curt nod, tucking his phone into his pocket. “I’ve left instructions with the security team. Do not leave the premises, Camilla. I’ll call you.”

Then, as always, he guided Cara by the small of her back, the same way he used to guide me, out the door. She turned, her smile practiced and pitying.

“Be well, Camilla. We’ll bring you back something nice.”

When the door clicked shut, the house fell silent. And then my phone vibrated. Dante.

“Is your husband, there?”

“No. Why?”

“Then we move now. My people would be there in two hours. Your documents are with them. So, pack and go.”

For a moment, I froze. My heart pounded against my ribs. Originally, I thought I would wait for all my documents and fly to Russia to meet Dante. It seemed, lucky enough, Dante hadn’t change. He knew me and knew the ways I needed his help. And so, everything inside me ignited and I got up moving.

In the bedroom, I opened the drawers full of jewelry and watches, gifts from Leon that had once felt like a declaration of love. I put them into boxes labelled Donation.

The wedding ring, three carats, flawless, I left on the dresser, beside the perfume bottle Cara had been secretly using.

In the closet, I ran my fingers along the dresses Leon had chosen for me.

“You look best when you don’t stand out,” he used to say.

Anger surged through me that I stripped the hangers bare until the rails gleamed. My fingers trembled, but I kept going. And threw them to another boxes for donation including shoes, sandals, designer purses and bags.

In the living room, I gathered every framed photo of us where we smiled for the camera. I fed them into the fireplace one by one. As I watched, Leon’s voice echoed in my head.

“Fix your face, Camilla. You look miserable. People are watching.”

“You humiliated me, Camilla.”

“Don’t make me remind you who built this life for you.”

By the time I finished, my reflection in the mirror was a stranger, bare-faced, hair tangled, eyes hollow but alive. For the first time in years, I looked like myself.

I called a rehabilitation center for women victims of domestic abuse to come and collect my donations. The representatives came with their truck thirty minutes later to collect. They wanted to publish the donation in their blogs and websites, but I told them do it after five days.

Ten minutes later, a horn blared outside. When I opened the back door, a black car waited by the gate. A woman in a dark coat stood beside it, umbrella in hand as rain had started to fall.

“My name is Andrea. Mr. Petrov sent me,” she said when I was already near her. “We need to go.”

For a heartbeat, I looked back at huge house. Its windows glowed like eyes, watching me. It was a beautiful house that used to be filled with loving memories, now all that were left were painful ones. I turned away and didn’t look back.

Inside the car, Andrea handed me an envelope.

“From him.”

My hands shook as I opened it. Inside were my finalized divorce papers, my passport, and national ID.

Casteel Kavannagh.

My new name. I went back to my maiden’s name and used my grandfather’s favorite name. I traced the letters like they were holy. This was my new life now.

I wanted to ask her how come Dante had this but realized Dante was also rich and powerful. He was even more than Leon, but he was more private.

Andrea turned a tablet toward me. “He also said to show you this.”

A video played. Leon and Cara standing happily showing the sonogram. They were having a baby shower with Leon’s parents present, as well as his and Cara’s friends. All were aware of their affair but had clearly supported it. My heart breaks remembering my twins, but I tried not to cry.

“They’ll regret this,” the woman murmured sensing my pain while she gently squeezes my hand. “He made sure of it.”

“Dante?” I asked.

She nodded. “Everything goes to The Daily Chronicle in five days. Anonymous of course. Soon, everything would turn.”

I closed my eyes and whispered, “Good.”

As we drove, the city seemed to blur. I asked for an envelope and sealed a package in my lap containing copies of the divorce papers, the evidence of Leon and Cara’s betrayal, and a letter with just: Congratulations on your baby girl.

One of Dante’s staff would mail it and I asked them to ensure for it to arrive five days after they returned.

The road to the airport felt endless, every mile a memory peeling away. When the private jet finally closed behind me, I exhaled and felt free.

Dante was waiting inside, calm, steady, eyes warm like he’d been holding the world still for me.

“Finally,” he whispered, reaching for my hand. “You’re here.”

I smiled. He hadn’t change, just more handsome and muscular that before. Then, we began chatting about our childhood days, like I had forgotten what I left behind. I only felt at peace, the kind that comes when you’ve survived the fire and walked out whole. Because when Leon and Cara came back, they would find nothing, and all their secrets would soon be out in the open.