Wife Rejected for Mistress

The chapel's stone floor chilled my knees as I hunched over the ancient Bible, my fingers cramped from hours of copying scripture. Three days had passed since Amira had accused me of attempting to seduce Ridge—a ridiculous claim that Ridge had believed without question.

"Fornication is a sin against God Himself," Amira had whispered to Ridge that morning, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "And Diana has been trying to tempt you."

I had been nowhere near Ridge's study when she claimed I'd attempted to seduce him. But Amira's words carried weight that mine never did.

"Copy the Book of Leviticus," Ridge had ordered, pushing me toward the chapel. "Perhaps God's word will finally penetrate that wicked mind of yours."

Now, as dusk settled over the Gardner estate, my candles flickered in the growing darkness. The chapel's stained glass windows had turned from colorful masterpieces to dark shadows against the night sky.

My stomach growled audibly, reminding me that I'd been denied dinner as part of my punishment.

"Diana," Ridge's voice echoed through the chapel as he strode down the center aisle, Amira at his side. "Your penance continues until you've completed the entire book."

I looked up, my eyes burning from strain. "It's getting dark, Ridge. I can't see to write much longer."

He glanced at his watch impatiently. "We're going into the city for dinner. Don't expect anyone to bring you food."

"But—"

"The doors will remain locked until morning," he continued, ignoring my protest. "Consider this time to reflect on your inappropriate behavior."

Amira's hand slipped into Ridge's, her diamond bracelet catching the candlelight. "We'll be late," she murmured, not looking at me. "The restaurant is exclusive—reservations are nearly impossible to get."

I watched them leave, their silhouettes disappearing through the heavy wooden doors. The sound of a car engine rumbled outside, fading into the distance.

Alone in the silence, I returned to my copying, tears blurring the ink on the page.

* * *

Hours later, a strange smell woke me from where I'd fallen asleep at the altar. Something acrid and burning tickled my nose.

I blinked awake to see wisps of smoke curling beneath the chapel doors.

"Fire!" I screamed, leaping to my feet.

The smoke grew thicker as I rushed to the doors, tugging frantically at the handles. They wouldn't budge.

"Help!" I pounded against the wood. "Someone help me!"

No answer came. Outside, the night remained silent except for the growing crackle of flames.

The smoke thickened, burning my lungs with each desperate breath. Orange light flickered beneath the doors now, illuminating the chapel in a hellish glow.

"They've left," I realized with horror. "They've left me here to die."

I stumbled back from the doors, coughing violently. The chapel's ancient electrical system had finally failed, sparks igniting the dry wooden pews.

My eyes darted around the smoke-filled space, searching for escape. The windows—beautiful stained glass masterpieces depicting the Gardner family's religious devotion—were my only option.

I grabbed a heavy candlestick from the altar and approached the smallest window. With trembling hands, I swung the metal object against the glass.

The crash echoed through the chapel as colored shards rained down around me. Fresh air rushed in through the broken pane, feeding the flames behind me.

I climbed onto the window ledge, the broken glass cutting into my palms as I struggled to squeeze through the narrow opening.

"Please," I whispered, blood dripping from my hands onto the chapel floor below. "Please let me survive this."

With one final push, I forced my body through the window, glass tearing at my dress and skin. I fell hard onto the ground outside, pain shooting through my already injured ankle.

The night air filled my lungs as I crawled away from the burning chapel, leaving a trail of blood on the frozen grass.

* * *

"They're back," the maid whispered to me the next morning, her eyes wide with concern.

I sat in my bedroom, bandages covering the cuts on my hands and arms, my face smudged with soot. I hadn't slept after dragging myself back to the house in the early hours.

Ridge burst into my room without knocking, Amira trailing behind him with a disapproving expression.

"What have you done?" he demanded, his face contorted with rage.

I stared at him in disbelief. "The chapel caught fire. I nearly died."

"Look at what you've done to family property!" Amira pointed at my bandaged hands accusingly. "That stained glass was irreplaceable!"

"Not a word about your concern for Diana's welfare," Grandfather Gardner's voice came from the doorway, his face grave as he surveyed the scene.

Ridge's expression hardened. "She's always been careless. Look at the damage she's caused now."

"And what about your negligence?" Grandfather Gardner asked quietly. "Leaving her locked in a building that you knew had faulty wiring?"

Amira stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Ridge's arm. "We were only gone for a few hours," she said sweetly. "How were we to know the chapel would catch fire?"

I looked between them—Ridge's cold indifference and Amira's practiced concern—and something inside me hardened like cooling steel.

They had left me to die. And they felt no remorse.