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Too Late, Mr. Ex: I'm Free Novel Cover

Too Late, Mr. Ex: I'm Free

On her fifth anniversary, Ethan demands a divorce for the 38th time to appease his friend Ilene. For years, the protagonist endured this cycle until Ilene pushed her down the stairs. Despite Ethan’s promise of justice, the evidence vanishes. When Ilene later orchestrates her kidnapping, Ethan refuses her call for help. Forced to leap from a moving van to survive, she bleeds on the road and vows to vanish. This time, there will be no 39th remarriage.
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Chapter 4

When I woke up, the first thing I registered was the familiar scent of antiseptic. The second was a pounding headache that felt like someone was driving a nail into my skull.

A doctor was standing over me, shining a penlight into my eyes.

"Good, you're awake, Mrs. Bruce," he said, his tone relieved. "You gave us quite a scare. You have a serious concussion and a fractured wrist, but you're going to be okay. You're very lucky."

He smiled kindly. "Your husband is a real hero. He carried you in here himself. He hasn't left your side. He truly adores you."

I felt a cold chill spread through me, colder than any fear.

Adores me.

The word was a joke. A cruel, bitter joke.

I thought of all the times I had swallowed my pain, all the years I had endured Ilene' s madness, all for him. All for our marriage.

No more.

The rage that had been dormant for so long finally erupted.

I looked at the doctor, my voice clear and steady despite the pain.

"I want to report a crime. I was pushed."

I reached for my phone on the bedside table. "I'm calling the police."

The door flew open and Ethan rushed in, his face pale with panic.

"Rory, what are you doing?" he demanded, seeing the phone in my hand. He strode over and snatched it away from me.

"Ilene didn't mean to push you! It was an accident! She slipped!" he pleaded, his voice desperate. "Don't do this, Rory. Don't press charges."

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.

"An accident?" I repeated, my voice shaking with fury. "Ethan, she tried to kill me."

I glared at him, my eyes burning. "There are security cameras in the house. They will show everything."

"Don't you care if I live or die?"

"Of course I care!" he insisted, his grip on my phone tightening. "But Ilene… you know her condition. A police investigation would be too much for her. It could push her over the edge."

He looked at me, his eyes begging for the understanding I no longer had to give. "Her life is already ruined because of us, Rory. We can't destroy what's left of it."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

"Her life is ruined?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. "What about the accident, Ethan? Did you ever wonder why she was calling you so frantically on our wedding day? She wasn' t in any danger. She was trying to ruin our wedding."

"What did I do wrong?" My voice broke, the years of suppressed pain finally pouring out. "I loved you. That was my only crime. If you were so consumed with guilt, why did you marry me? Why did you drag me into this nightmare?"

I was screaming now, tears streaming down my face. "You always have an excuse for her! Always! Do I have to be dead for you to finally see me?"

The words ripped from my throat, raw and bloody.

Ethan just stood there, stunned. He had never seen me like this. The calm, compliant Aurora was gone.

His face crumpled. He looked lost. "Rory…"

He reached for me, his expression softening with a pain that mirrored my own. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around my shaking body. "I love you," he whispered into my hair. "I only love you."

For a moment, I almost believed him. I almost let myself sink into the familiar comfort of his embrace.

But it was too late.

I pulled away, my gaze steady and cold. "If you love me, let me get justice."

"All I want is for her to pay for what she did."

He stared at me, his jaw tight. He seemed to be wrestling with himself. He looked at my bandaged wrist, at the tears on my face, at the raw pain in my eyes.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering sigh, he handed my phone back to me.

He had made his choice.

Or so I thought.

The days passed. The police came. I gave my statement. They promised to investigate thoroughly.

A week later, I was ready to be discharged. The police called.

"Mrs. Bruce," the officer said, his voice professional yet apologetic. "We've concluded our investigation. Based on the evidence and Ms. Wolf's documented history of severe mental illness, we've determined that we cannot press charges."

"The evidence is insufficient to prove intent," he explained.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "But the security footage! It shows her pushing me!"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bruce. The security system at your residence malfunctioned. The footage from that day was erased."

My blood ran cold.

I hung up the phone, my mind reeling. I knew. I knew who was behind this.

I left the hospital and went straight to the house. I had to see for myself. I had to know for sure.

As I approached the front door, I heard voices from inside. Ilene's voice, bright and cheerful.

"Oh, Ethan, thank you! Thank you for getting rid of that horrible video! And for getting me that new doctor's note saying I was having a psychotic episode. You even used your connections to stop the police! I knew you still loved me!"

The world tilted on its axis.

He hadn't chosen me. He had chosen her. He had lied to my face, held me while I cried, and then gone behind my back to protect the woman who tried to murder me.

The betrayal was so absolute, so complete, it felt like a physical blow.

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