My Husband Who Hates

The morning was heavy, suffocating even. I couldn’t breathe right as I walked through the mansion, my heart pounding. I had to talk to Chase. I had to ask him about Camille. But I knew it wouldn’t go well. Still, I had to try.

When I found him, he was in his office, talking to some of his men. They looked at me when I stepped inside, but no one said anything. Not even him.

I took a deep breath. “Chase,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to you.”

He didn’t even look at me. “Not now, Miracle.” His voice was flat, dismissive. I could feel my chest tighten, but I kept my ground.

“Chase,” I repeated, trying to get his attention. “About Camille—”

He raised a hand, cutting me off. “I said, not now.” His eyes stayed on the papers in front of him. I stood there, frozen, my mouth dry.

That was it. He wasn’t even going to listen. I could feel the tears building up, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I wouldn’t let him see me break.

I turned and walked out without saying another word.

The day dragged on, dragging me down with it. Camille seemed to be everywhere I turned. She was in the kitchen, smiling as she ate breakfast. She was by the pool, laughing with some of the staff. She was even standing outside the study, looking at me with that smug, too-perfect smile.

She was taking my place. Everywhere I looked, she was there, like she owned everything.

At dinner, it was worse. I was already sitting at the table, trying to keep my mind busy, but when Camille walked in, my stomach twisted. She was wearing a red dress, the kind of dress that turned heads, and she didn’t even glance my way as she sat down next to Chase.

I couldn’t help it. My eyes drifted to her, and I saw her give me a small, mocking smile. She knew what she was doing.

The dinner went on in a blur. My mind was so distracted by Camille and her every move that I almost didn’t notice what happened next.

Camille “accidentally” knocked over her wine glass. The red liquid splashed across the table, and I could feel the coldness of it hitting me before I even realized what was happening. It soaked my dress, turning it dark with wine.

I sat there, stunned. Everyone at the table went quiet for a moment before laughter erupted. Camille’s eyes twinkled with malicious delight as she “apologized,” but it was clear she didn’t care. She was loving every second of it.

I had to sit there, soaked and embarrassed, while everyone laughed and whispered. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say anything. My face burned with humiliation.

Chase didn’t even look at me. He just kept talking to Camille, like nothing had happened. Like I wasn’t sitting there, drenched in wine and ignored.

Camille leaned closer to him, her voice soft but loud enough for me to hear. “You should start packing,” she whispered. I could see the smug smile on her face as she stared at me, making sure I understood.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to stand up and tell them all the truth, to make them understand how much they were hurting me. But I couldn’t. I just sat there, feeling smaller and smaller.

When dinner finally ended, I excused myself and went to my room. But I didn’t feel like I had a room anymore. It was just a space. Just a place I was supposed to stay in while they did whatever they wanted with me.

That night, I locked myself in the bathroom. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to face the truth, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my soaked dress still clinging to my skin. My makeup was ruined, and my hair was a mess.

I was nothing to them.

I had no place here anymore. I wasn’t needed. I wasn’t wanted.

I sank to the floor, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. I felt the tears finally spill over. I didn’t even try to stop them.

I had nothing left.

But then something shifted in me. I couldn’t stay like this. I couldn’t just sit here and let them tear me apart. I had to do something.

I couldn’t rely on Chase. I couldn’t rely on anyone here. I had to get out.

I wiped my eyes, taking a deep breath. I stood up, straightened my dress, and made my way back down the hall.

I couldn’t face them tonight, but there was one thing I had to do.

Chase’s study.

I needed to get the files. The ones I’d found the night before. The ones that could be my way out.

I moved quickly, as quietly as I could, making my way back to the study. The door was still ajar. I slipped inside, the darkness welcoming me. The desk was just how I had left it. The papers, the folders, everything was still there.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the folders, all of them, and shoved them into my bag. I needed every piece of information. I didn’t know what would happen, but I knew I couldn’t leave without it.

I looked around the room one last time before slipping out. The house felt so empty now, like a prison I couldn’t escape. But with these files, I had a chance. I could make a plan. I could figure out how to get out of here, how to leave them all behind.

I didn’t care about Camille or Chase anymore. They didn’t control me. Not anymore.

I didn’t know what I was going to do yet, but I had the power to change it. I could make my own way.

The mansion felt colder than ever as I walked back to my room, the weight of the files heavy in my bag. But for the first time in a long while, I felt like I had control.

It was time to make my escape.