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He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

Chapter 3 No.

Word Count: 877    |    Released on: 19/12/2025

o

at alone at Table 8. The other seats were empty; the socialites who were assigned to sit with her had my

ng too hard at Liam's jokes. Every few minutes, Liam would whisper something to Ser

er champagne.

oomed from the stage. "We now move to

ghter rippled t

solate wasteland. Rusted shipping containers, patches of oil-slicke

er tried to sell it, though even he sounded s

. Dead

ed. "I wouldn't buy that for a

Her fingers brushed the p

re Tech Park" initiative. The land values skyrocketed overnight, increasing by two thousand percent. Th

this

ised he

er voice was clear, cutt

. Heads snapped

twisting in disbelief. He stood up and mar

er. "Are you drunk? That land is worth

t him. She looked

y in red, the auctione

, Skye said calmly. "I c

I won't let you ruin our fin

ebrow. "I thought you said my m

ing so hard he was choking on his drink. "Boss,

finger against his chin. He had heard whispers-rumors from his contacts in the planning com

he just

listai

ped laughi

gains

s, it's

i

the microphone connected t

ver the speakers. "The VI

ir Thorne was bidding? If Thorne wa

th. The dark glass hid him, but she knew he was there

is land was her exit strat

n. Her hand was steady, bu

on, Skye

o have a stroke. "Skye! Stop! T

he auctioneer y

the VIP booth. She willed him to s

ind her stoic mask. He saw the way her knuckles were wh

. "Let he

"To Mrs. Kensington fo

le were shaking their heads, whispe

tling the silverware. "You have ruined

was the same height

id, her voice dropping to a whisper that only he

ing the faint trace of Sera

t a d

between them, heavier th

losing. He had threatened her with divorce a th

.. w

clutch. "Enjoy the rest of the night with

ng the gala, leaving the husband,

-

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He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
“The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.”