My Husband and My Child Both Betrayed Me

The servant’s quarters were a labyrinth of cold concrete and the smell of stale tobacco. Marcus didn't lead me, he dragged me, his grip tightening on my upper arm as he kicked open the door to a small servant quarter.

Inside, three other men—drivers and groundskeepers were already waiting.

"Master said she’s ours for the night," Marcus announced, a jagged grin splitting his face. He shoved me into the center of the room. I stumbled, the torn remnants of my silk dress slipping further. I clutched the fabric to my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it was agony.

"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Jake! Leo!" I screamed for help, “Somebody help me!”

The heavy oak door at the end of the hallway creaked open. For a heartbeat, hope flared in my chest. Leo. My son stood there, his small face pale in the dim light.

"Leo! Tell Dad! Please, get me out of here!"

The boy looked at me, his expression strangely blank, as if he were reciting a lesson. "Daddy says Mommy is being bad," he said, his voice high and thin. "He says after tonight, Mommy will be obedient. He told me to go to bed and not look back."

He turned around and walked away, the click of his small shoes on the tile sounding like a death knell.

Just then Marcus grabbed the hem of my dress, his eyes dark with intent. "No more shouting, Stacy. No one is coming."

In a blur of desperation, I scanned the room. There—a small, high window used for ventilation. It was narrow, barely enough for a woman in my frame.

I didn't think so. I grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the table and smashed it against Marcus’s temple. As he groaned and slumped back, I scrambled onto a plastic chair and hauled myself up to the ledge.

"She’s getting away! Grab her!"

I felt a hand snatch at my ankle, fingernails raking across my skin. I kicked out with everything I had, hearing a satisfying grunt of pain.

I didn't look down at the thirty-foot drop.

I threw myself out into the night.

My ribs cracked. Legs broken, and red crimson sipping out my body from almost everywhere.

But, that's the price I was willing to pay- to save my pride. That's all I had left with.

Three miles away from Vance's estate, I dragged myself onto the sand of a public beach, shivering and bloodied. I looked back at the silhouette of the mansion on the cliff—a house of monsters.

Jake would find the scrap of silk on the window tomorrow. He would find the broken locket in the dining room. He would tell the world his unstable wife took her own life in a fit of jealous grief.

Let him.

I reached into the hidden inner pocket of the slip I wore beneath the dress—the one thing I had prepared before the dinner. My burner phone and a pre-paid credit card.

Then I dialed a number.

“It's me,” I whispered into the receiver, watching the sunrise bleed across the horizon. “I have arrived at the location.”

“Look upward, Stacy.” A deep male voice sounded from the other end and when I looked up, I found a chopper roaming just above my head.

As it landed, a man dressed in a well-tailored navy blue suit emerged out.

He was Taylor Vance. Jake’s elder brother whom the world thought was dead, except me.

He watched me bleeding and I saw his knuckles tightening. He looked at the man standing behind him.

"Stacy is dead.” He said, his voice dangerously calm, “Tell the lawyer to activate the contingency. I want every asset tied to the name 'Jake' frozen by noon."

Then he walked up to me. He took off his coat and wrapped it around me before he lifted me in his arms, saying softly, “You can't ruin something you promised to give me,”

“Your body is only mine to ruin. Remember that.” He said before he placed me inside the chopper and it drove us far away from Jake’s reach, where I was finally free.