The Runaway Groom and His Eleventh-Time Bride

I dragged my suitcase behind me and left without another word.

Behind me came Gina's mocking voice, "Married five years and still jealous of a little girl? You can't even get pregnant, yet you're always finding excuses to get out of a few chores! Our family really drew the short straw with a daughter-in-law like you! You better have some self-respect—if you walk out, don't come crawling back!"

My whole body trembled with anger. I was ready to turn around and snap back, but stopped myself.

What was the point? When it came to cutting words, I'd never be her match. And she could say all of this because Tom allowed it.

All I needed to do was leave—leave the house, leave him—and everything would fall back into place.

My in-laws stood in the hallway, faces like stone, eyes on my suitcase.

The housekeeper didn't move. Without their nod, I wasn't allowed to go.

I looked at them directly. "Do you want to inspect my luggage?"

I hadn't taken a single thing that belonged to the Spaders. What I brought with me barely amounted to anything.

My father-in-law frowned but stayed silent.

My mother-in-law gave me a gentle smile. "Liz, don't be ridiculous. I just want to stop you from doing anything rash. If there's a problem, talk it through with Tom. You young people are always escaping at the first sign of trouble—don't you see how threatening that looks to a man? Keep pushing him away like this, and who are you really hurting? Don't be foolish."

Her tone was calm, familiar, like the same old lecture she'd given me for the past five years.

I used to think she had a soft heart hidden beneath harsh words.

But now I saw it clearly.

They were a united front. And I—I was always the outsider.

"If you won't let me leave, I'll call the police," I said quietly, pulling out my phone.

The calm on my father-in-law's face broke instantly, replaced by a furious scowl.

"No one's stopping you! Get out if that's what you want! What a joke. You've done nothing for this family, and still think you can act like royalty! Tom would've been better off hiring a maid—cheaper and more useful than you!"

I stood there stunned.

So this was what they really thought of me. They'd never said it aloud because I had always been obedient. I listened. I cooked. I stayed.

Now that I refused to serve them, now that I wanted to leave the house—they couldn't hide it anymore.

Thankfully, my father-in-law raised his oh-so-noble hand and signaled the housekeeper to let me go.

As I walked out of the Spader family estate, it felt like stepping out of a prison. Out of hell.

Relief flooded every part of me. A rebirth.

Tears rolled down my face.

Five years of marriage. Five years of silence and submission, of playing servant to people who never saw me as one of their own.

And now, I was finally out.

There is no honor in suffering for a man, no glory in swallowing pain just to keep a marriage intact.

There were no taxis in the villa district. I dragged my suitcase for what felt like miles down the long road.

Eventually, a car came toward me. I raised my hand.

But it wasn't a cab.

It was a Rolls-Royce.

And I knew that car better than anyone.

The driver was my husband—Tom.

In the passenger seat sat Laura, wearing the exact same jacket as him.

They looked like a perfectly matched couple.

I had once asked him to wear matching outfits with me, and he'd brushed it off as childish.

I didn't push.

Now I understood. It wasn't that he hated couple's clothes.

He just hated wearing them with me.

Laura noticed me staring and hurriedly pulled off the jacket.

Beneath it, she wore a low-cut spaghetti strap dress. She shivered and let out a delicate sneeze.

"Don't misunderstand, Liz," she said, voice soft and trembling. "Tom only asked me to try it on for you."

I looked straight at Tom. "Is that true?"

He draped the jacket back over Laura's shoulders, his hand never once leaving her.

"Liz, can you stop being so unreasonable? It's just a jacket…"

I cut him off. "I'm done being unreasonable. Laura picked up your phone last night while you were in the shower. She didn't tell you to check your email? I sent you the divorce agreement."