My Husband Who Hates

The room was cold. I couldn’t feel my hands anymore as I clutched the podium. My chest felt like it was going to burst. The guests stared at me, waiting for me to say something—anything. I could already hear Camille’s voice in my head, sweet and innocent, like she always played it.

“You owe me an apology, Miracle,” Camille had said earlier. Her eyes, full of fake hurt, shone under the bright lights. “You pushed me. I’ve been hurt so much by you, and all I wanted was to help.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them all the truth—that she had tripped, that it wasn’t my fault. But I couldn’t. Chase was behind me, his face hard, staring at the guests. I didn’t dare look at him. He’d already made it clear what would happen if I didn’t do this.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out at first. My throat tightened, my words stuck. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide from all of them. Camille was standing next to me, her hand on my arm, pretending to console me. It made me want to throw up.

“I… I’m sorry, everyone,” I finally forced myself to say. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” The words felt foreign, like I wasn’t even speaking them. I could feel the eyes on me, and every inch of my skin burned with humiliation.

Chase’s hand on my back was cold, and it made my body tense. I could feel the weight of his anger. Camille squeezed my arm tighter, her nails digging into my skin. I tried not to flinch. I didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

The room was silent for a moment before a few people murmured, and I was dismissed. Camille took my arm and led me out, her head held high, looking proud of herself. I hated her. I hated how she always managed to twist everything to her advantage.

As soon as we left the room, Chase turned to me. His eyes were dark, and his voice low. “You’re lucky I’m still keeping you around,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

I couldn’t even reply. My mouth was dry, and I just nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Camille’s smug smile was the last thing I saw before they walked away. It felt like my entire world was crashing down, and I didn’t even know how to stop it.

That night, the house felt emptier than usual. I was alone. The silence echoed in the hallways. My feet moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of Chase’s study. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see the glow of the desk lamp through the crack.

I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t be sneaking around, but my heart pounded, and I couldn’t help myself. I pushed the door open just a little wider and stepped inside.

The room smelled like leather and whiskey. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, reminding me of him. I didn’t want to think about him, but it was hard not to. Everything about this house was about him—his rules, his control. I hated it. I hated him.

I glanced at the desk. Papers were scattered across the surface, and there, at the edge, a folder caught my eye. It was thick, marked with something I couldn’t quite read from where I stood. I walked closer, my hands shaking. The first paper I pulled out made my stomach drop.

Financial transactions. Large sums of money, moving into offshore accounts. Camille’s name was listed. I froze. My heart pounded in my chest. What was this? What was she doing?

I flipped through the papers quickly, trying to understand, but the more I saw, the worse it got. These weren’t just business deals. There were connections—names I didn’t recognize. Leon Romano. The rival Mafia boss. Camille’s name was tied to his in more ways than I cared to count.

I stumbled back, almost knocking over a glass. My breath came in ragged gasps. My mind was racing. Camille wasn’t just playing Chase. She was playing him and everyone else.

I had to get out of here. My mind screamed for me to leave, but I couldn’t. I needed to know more. I had to find out everything.

The door creaked open behind me. I froze. My heart dropped into my stomach as I turned around. Michael stood there, his eyes dark and intense. He was always calm, but there was something different in his gaze tonight.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. My hand was still clutching the papers. I couldn’t let them go. “I found something,” I whispered.

He stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned the desk, and I saw his jaw tighten. “Chase is preparing to throw you away,” he said, his voice cold. “You’re a pawn to him, Miracle. Always have been.”

I shook my head, my heart sinking. “No, he… he won’t. He needs me.”

Michael stepped closer, his gaze hardening. “He won’t need you for long. Not when he’s done with you.” He paused, his voice lowering. “Get out while you still can. You don’t have much time.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to scream, to beg him to tell me what to do. But nothing came out. I just stood there, unable to move, the weight of his words settling on me like a stone.

He gave me a final, almost pitying glance before turning and walking out of the room, leaving me alone once again. The papers on the desk felt heavier now, like they were weighing me down. Camille, Chase, Leon Romano—it was all connected.

I couldn’t stay here anymore. But where could I go? What could I do?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew one thing for certain.

I was done being their pawn.

The silence in the room swallowed me whole as I stood there, staring at the papers. I had to figure this out. For