Chapter 8
“Brandon Westwood?” I froze in place. “What are you doing here? I don’t want to see you.”
I didn’t wait for his answer. I turned around and walked away.
He rushed up behind me, grabbing my arm with a tight frown.
“Valerie, how could you just leave without a word? Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
What it did to him?
He’d paraded me naked like an auction item, let strangers leer at me like livestock–and now he wanted sympathy?
I yanked my arm free, my voice ice–cold.
“Don’t pretend you care. You hated me–you said it yourself. Now that I’m out of your life, what’s your problem?”
Brandon’s face softened in an instant. His tone dropped.
“We never officially divorced. Marriage is supposed to be a mutual decision. You can’t just let my grandmother decide for me.
Mutual?
Was it mutual when he humiliated me like a circus in front of a crowd? When he laid with another woman under our roof?
Looking back now, I should’ve gone to his grandmother sooner. I should’ve ended this sick joke of a marriage the moment it began.
“Our marriage was never our choice, Brandon. No one respected what we wanted. Well, now things are finally as they should be–you should be happy.”
“That annulment has both our signatures. It’s done. We are done.”
I turned to leave again–but he grabbed the grocery basket from my hand, holding it like leverage.
“You left me just to cook and clean for some other man? I won’t allow it.‘
“As long as I don’t agree to the divorce, you’re still my wife. And I won’t stand by while you play house with another man. You hear me? That’s not happening.”
So Grandma had told him about Lucas.
But it didn’t matter anymore. My heart no longer had nothing to give him:
I let out a short, dry laugh.
“And you and Clarissa? So pure,
so innocent, hhuh?”
“Don’t bother lying–I heard everything. That night you locked me in the bedroom, naked, while strangers stared at my body?”
“I heard you two.”
Brandon’s face went pale. He stumbled back, stunned.
“So… you knew?”
I looked him dead in the eyes. And nodded.
If I hadn’t heard it, I might’ve stayed trapped in that nightmare forever.
Knowing was what saved me. Brandon pressed his lips together, his entire demeanor deflating.
“It was a mistake,” he mumbled. “Just a moment of weakness. That’s all. Don’t overthink it.”
Right. The oldest excuse in the book.
Chapter 8
A “moment of weakness”-not years of cruelty, betrayal, or calculated indifference.
“Whatever I think doesn’t matter anymore. We signed the papers. We’re done. Go live your life. Just don’t come looking for me again.”
I took the basket back and walked away without another word.
He stood there frozen, not moving an inch.
Back home, Lucas met me at the door, took the groceries with a smile, and headed straight to the kitchen.
“Thought I’d show off a little. Let’s see if five years made me a better cook,” he said with a wink.
Five years had passed, but the warmth in his food–like everything else about him–hadn’t changed a bit.
I curled up on the couch, watching him work, when my phone buzzed.
An email. A wedding invitation.
Seconds later, Clarissa called.
“Valerie,” she sang sweetly, “did you hear? Bran and I are getting married! His grandmother’s organizing the whole thing. It’s going to be huge! You should totally come.”
I didn’t even blink.
I wasn’t surprised. Grandma cared too much about appearances than anything–a fast wedding would kill the gossip.
I didn’t bother opening the invitation. I kept my voice calm.
“Thanks for the invitation, Miss Monroe. But I’m abroad at the moment. Won’t be able to attend.”
“But I do wish you both a very happy wedding.”
Chapter 8
