My Husband Who Hates

The house felt like a cage now. Every step I took, every corner I turned, was a reminder that I didn’t belong here anymore. The weight of the files in my bag, the evidence that could ruin everything, felt heavier each day. But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t let them keep breaking me down.

I had to leave. I had to get out.

I contacted Michael in secret. I knew he’d be the only one who could help me now. He’d always known more than he let on, and I trusted him more than anyone else here. The message was simple: I need to leave. Help me.

He didn’t reply immediately, but when he did, it was clear he was ready. He told me to get everything packed, to hide money, to prepare documents. I didn’t know how long it would take him to make his move, but I had to trust him. I couldn’t rely on anyone else. Not anymore.

I started hiding small amounts of cash, tucked away in drawers, in the lining of my clothes. I packed essentials in a small bag—just enough to get by in case I had to leave quickly. Every day, I prepared a little more. My heart raced with each item I added. What if they found out? What if Chase found out?

But I couldn’t let fear stop me. I had to keep going.

It was the night of the charity gala when Camille decided to humiliate me again. I could see it coming from a mile away, the way she smiled at me from across the room, her eyes glinting with malice. She was always plotting, always watching for the right moment to strike.

I tried to keep my composure, pretending I didn’t see her, but it didn’t matter. It was already happening.

As the night went on, Camille somehow managed to spill her drink all over me. It wasn’t an accident. I could see the smirk on her face as she “apologized,” her voice dripping with false sweetness.

“I’m so sorry, Miracle,” she said, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” But the way she said it made it clear she was enjoying every second.

Before I could react, she pulled at my dress, tearing the fabric right down the middle. I gasped, feeling the cold air hit my skin as the crowd around me gasped too.

“Oops,” Camille said, pretending to be shocked. “I guess it’s ruined now.”

I stood there, half-exposed, my face burning with humiliation. I wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor. The laughter started immediately, whispers spreading through the crowd.

Chase didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at me. He just stood next to Camille, as if everything was fine. Like I wasn’t standing there, exposed and humiliated.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear everything apart, but I couldn’t. Not now. I had to wait. I had to stay calm.

The night dragged on, but I felt like I wasn’t even there. My head spun, my mind racing with thoughts of what I needed to do. I couldn’t take much more of this. I had to get out. I had to escape.

That night, after the gala, I waited until the house was quiet. I could hear the soft murmur of voices down the hall, but I didn’t care. I slipped out of my room and into the darkened hallway.

I went to Chase’s door, crouching down to listen. His voice floated through the crack, low and cold.

“She’s served her purpose,” he said, the words like a slap to my chest. “I’ll handle the divorce soon.”

My breath caught in my throat. Divorce. It was coming. I could feel it. He was done with me. I was just a piece to be discarded.

I stayed there, listening as he made plans, as he spoke like I didn’t exist. But I wasn’t going to be part of his plan anymore. Not after everything.

I had everything I needed. I had the files, I had the money, and I had Michael’s signal. The time had come.

I took one last look around the mansion, the place that had been my prison for so long. I didn’t look back as I made my way down the hall and out the back door.

Outside, the cool night air hit me, and I breathed it in. Freedom. It was just a step away.

The black car was waiting, just like Michael had promised. I climbed inside without hesitation. The door clicked shut behind me, and I was alone in the backseat, the darkness surrounding me.

The driver didn’t look at me as he started the car. He just drove, silent, his eyes focused on the road. But I didn’t care. I didn’t need to know where we were going. I just needed to leave.

As we drove away from the mansion, I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself dwell on what I was leaving behind. I was finally free.

The driver turned his head slightly, just enough for me to see his face. It was Leon Romano. The last person I expected, but the person I needed.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. My chest was tight, my heart racing, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a chance. I had a chance to live for myself. To be free from the cage they had kept me in.

I didn’t know where I was going, but it didn’t matter. I was finally leaving the life they had forced on me behind.

I didn’t look back. Not even once.