angels and demons dan brown

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Modern Parenting Ex-wife Drama

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Rick

"Come on Ricky, pleaaaase!" She begged for the millionth time, clutching on my arm, her big green puppy eyes staring up into mine.

Hmm, like this would ever work...

I mentally rolled my eyes, before I gave her my final decision, "No, Blake, I said no, it remains no! You're not going, and it's final!"

"B-but why? Leila is also going, and she will be with me the whole time, I swear!" She tried again, annoyance and frustration resonating loud and clear in her tone.

"No. I don't care, not even if the friggin' pope shows up at that stupid party, I said you're not going, and it's final, so stop trying!" I coldly replied, quickly returning behind my desk, definitely knowing that she will stop talking to me for at least a week for doing this.

But the truth is, I had to. I really had to. Who knows what kind of maniacs and freaks would be also attending that frat party, waiting for the perfect moment to hurt her. I simply can't allow that to happen.

"Ugh, I hate you, you're the worst brother ever!" She spat, then stormed out and loudly slammed my office door behind her, just like she always does when she tries to make a point.

I knew she would say that, she always does, everytime I deny her the freedom of going out on her own, outside this house...

And though it pained me to see her like that, I still, made a promise...and I definitely intent to keep it.

"Ricky...

My sweet, sweet strong boy..."

She whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks, holding my small hands in hers, pain and sorrow glinting in her eyes, as she took a few deep breaths, trying to regain composure.

"I want you to promise you'll take care of your little sister, no matter what, do you understand?"

"Yes mommy, I promise."

I nodded, holding back the tears threatening to fall over my cheeks. I knew it...I somehow knew that would be the last time I ever saw her...

"Good child. Now go."

She whispered, kissing my forehead, right before I craddled little Blake in my arms, and with a single last glance, I turned around and ran away on the dark alley, as fast as I could.

I sighed, closing my eyes for a brief moment, trying to clear my mind, that specific memory always bringing nothing but pain...

The sound of my phone buzzing suddenly pulled me out of my thoughts, glancing down on my desk where it layed.

Caller ID: unknown

I swiped the screen and answered in a rather bored tone, not really caring who the fuck was on the other end.

"What..."

"Mr. Summers..." a thick italian accent greeted, and I quickly recognised the owner.

"Gio." I replied in the same bored tone, inviting him to speak further.

"Indeed, my friend."

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