Let's Wait and See, My Cruel Husband

His laugh was cruel. “I’ve already signed the papers. But I won’t give them to her yet. I want her to serve you first. I want her to pay for humiliating you.”

Jenniva giggled, venom dripping from every note. “You mean… as my maid? I’d love that. But what if she finds the papers?”

Gillian groaned, pulling her down. “She won’t. Forget her. Now shut up and please me.”

I couldn’t watch another second. I turned away, bile rising, tears burning. My body shook with rage and disgust.

Hours passed. Finally, the villa went quiet, the sound of their snores filling the halls. I slipped inside, careful not to wake them. First, I checked the bedside drawer. Empty. My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew Gillian better than anyone—he’d hide them in his study.

I crept through the villa, silent as a ghost. In the study, the vault loomed. My fingers hovered, then typed the code I still remembered. Click. The lock opened, and my breath caught.

Inside were stacks of files and jewels. And there, folded neatly, the papers. My divorce papers. My hands shook as I pulled them out. My eyes blurred with tears. Every stroke of my signature trembled. “No more chains,” I whispered. Tears fell, smearing the ink.

I grabbed my phone and dialed. The ring seemed endless until it clicked.

“The papers are signed…”

Aamon’s voice was calm, deadly, ice in my veins. “Good. I’ll send my lawyer. Don’t let anyone know, Odette.”

The line went dead again, but his voice lingered in my head, a blade pressed to my throat.

Within the hour, I slipped out of the villa into the rain. Streets slick, empty, the night hiding me like a cloak. My breath puffed white in the cold. Every shadow felt alive. Every sound made my heart leap.

I found him where he said. His lawyer waited in a dark car outside a café, tall and composed, bowing slightly like I was someone worth respect.

I handed over the papers, hands shaking so badly I thought I’d drop them. My chest hammered, my soul on fire.

He took them carefully. “From now on, Odette, no one can chain you again.”

My eyes filled with tears, but this time they weren’t sorrow. They tasted like freedom.

Two days stuck in Gillian Washington’s villa felt like I was slowly being buried alive. The place was huge, bright, perfect for anyone else but for me, it was a cage. Gillian didn’t see me. Gibeah and Jenniva wandered around like little devils, whispering, laughing, making sure I couldn’t breathe.

At night, Zenith would wake crying, tiny sobs breaking out of her. Her bandaged hands trembled in mine, and I stayed up, pressing my lips to her hair, whispering the same thing over and over: it would pass, we’d be okay. Sje’d look up at me with those glassy eyes and ask, “Why doesn’t father come?” I tried to dodge it, but she was too smart. One night, in the dark, he whispered, “Mama… I wish I had a new father. I wish I wasn’t his daughter.”

I broke right there, but I hid it. I kissed her forehead and told her to rest. My tears soaked into her hair while I smiled, pretending I was strong.

Jenniva never missed a chance to turn me into the villain.

...

The first time, she threw herself into the pool, screaming. By the time Gillian ran over, she pointed at me, sobbing that I pushed her. Gillian didn’t even ask. His hand smacked across my face in front of the staff. I stood there dripping with shame while Jenniva clung to him, fake coughing.

The second time, she sprinkled tiny glass shards on her own plate, then screamed I tried to poison her. Gillian’s eyes burned into me. He threw my food to the ground and told me I wasn’t allowed to eat at the table. I cleaned the mess like a servant, stomach growling, while Jenniva smiled at him like an angel.

The third time, she twisted her wrist until it bruised purple, then ran to Gillian crying that I hurt her. He didn’t ask anything. He grabbed me by the hair, slammed me to the floor, and warned me never to touch her again. Zenith cried behind me, but Gillian ignored her too.

The fourth time, she hid her bracelet under my pillow, then gasped and pulled it out in front of everyone. Gillian looked at me like I was dirt. “Thief,” he spat. The maids looked away, pitying me, while Jenniva smirked. He called me a terrible mother right in front of Zenith. My girl clenched her tiny fists, and my heart shattered.

Gillian stayed cold, busy planning Gibeah’s seventh birthday party at some luxury hotel. He praised Gibeah every second, so patient, so kind, while ignoring Zenith’s pain, my existence.

I wanted to call Father, but I knew he wouldn’t believe me. Gillian had already bought him with shares, with promises. So I stayed quiet, holding Zenith’s trembling hands. I whispered, “We just have to survive. Aamon will come. Just a little longer.”

Zenith, pale and sweaty, whispered back, “Mama… I don’t want to be his daughter anymore. Let’s leave. I hate them for hurting you. I hate him for choosing Gio.”

I stroked her hair, chest breaking into pieces, and promised her a new beginning. Even if I didn’t know how, I promised.

The night of Gio’s party, Gillian left with Jenniva and Gibeah, their laughter echoing through the halls while Zenith and I stayed behind in the villa. Then Johnny appeared at the door.

“Aamon is waiting,” he said.

I followed him. He drove us through the wet night roads, rain sliding down the windows, until we reached the private airport. My heart wouldn’t slow down. Then my phone rang. Gillian.

His voice came through sharp and annoyed. “Where the hell are you, Odette? Get here. Gibeah’s banquet is starting. I want you serving the guests. And don’t bring Zenith. She’ll just ruin the mood.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

Then Jenniva’s voice slipped in, sweet and toxic. “Come on, Odette. You’ll miss all the fun. And thank you, babe, for giving our little girl the best birthday ever.”

My throat closed up. My hand shook, but I held the phone tighter. Gillian laughed softly. “Anything for you, babe. And for Gibeah—”

“Happy divorce, Gillian. Go to hell, you bastard.”

I hung up before he could answer and threw the phone out into the rain. It smashed against the wet ground, the screen flashing once before going dark.

The silence inside the car felt heavy. Then Johnny gave a low whistle, grinning. “Well, look at that. You’ve got claws after all. Aamon’s going to like this version of you.”

My chest rose and fell too fast. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Zenith’s small body was warm against me, and I held her tighter, turning away from Johnny’s stare.

The car slowed, tires crunching on the private runway. Ahead, a jet waited under bright lights, cold and sharp in the rain. My legs felt numb when Johnny opened the door.

“Time to meet the man who’s been waiting,” he said, still smiling.

I clutched Zenith and forced myself up the steps. The air smelled like metal and fuel. My knees almost gave out when I stepped inside.

He was there. Aamon.

He looked even sharper than I remembered. Colder. More dangerous. Dark suit, darker eyes. Like he was carved out of ice. He didn’t move. Just watched me.

“Aamon…” My voice broke.

The corner of his mouth shifted, not quite a smile. His voice was low, calm, and hard. “You’re finally here.”

…

GILLIAN'S POV

Jenniva leaned close, her perfume thick and sweet, wrapping around me like silk. Her voice was soft, almost teasing. “Don’t blow your top, Gillian. Odette’s just jealous. You know how she gets. If you get mad, she wins. Let her stew in her corner while I stay by your side.”

I smirked, brushing my thumb across her wrist where Gibeah couldn’t see. “You always know how to calm me down. She’s nothing. Look at us. Look at Gibeah. This is the real family.”

Her lashes lowered, her smile like honey. “Exactly, babe. Everyone can see it. Odette can scream and sulk all she wants, but she’s powerless. Tonight is ours.”

And she was right. By the time we pulled into the villa, my chest swelled. Untouchable. My enemies feared me, my partners envied me, my woman worshipped me, and my son carried my name like a crown.

The second we stepped inside, I barked, “Coffee. Now.”

The maids froze. I clicked my tongue. “Where the hell is Odette? Tell her to come down. I don’t care if it’s midnight.”

One maid finally shuffled forward, bowing so low her voice shook. “Mrs. Washington… she’s gone, sir. Took young miss Zenith with her.”