The Unwanted Wife's Fiery Rebirth

Salina

ting through the very floorboards. He was home. The air thickened, heavy with his rag

le

I had waited for this. My fingers smoothed the silk

ith fury. His eyes were wild, bloodshot, his ja

d, his voice shaking the quiet roo

fell to the bed. It was my phone. The screen display

, his voice a low growl. "Wh

Barts photos, Julian and his latest model. The contrast was stark. His lips, pressed to hers in a public d

ked up one of his scattered shirts from the floor, neatly folding

liberately tried to humiliate me! In front of ev

t about your weekly parades of models and actresses? What about being known across New Yo

hroat. He had no reply. His face, howe

rously quiet now, laced with a venomous p

have my own fun. I simply followed your advice." I paused, letting my words sink in. "Besid

in them. "Don't play games with me, E

I would confront him. I would cry, plead, demand to know who she was, if he loved her. My hear

," his "business obligations." He would tell me not to be so dramatic, so

g. I stopped caring, or at least, I pretended to. It was the only way to survive. I realized then that his parade of women wasn't about

was doing w

e. "You've grown some teeth, haven't you, Elena?" His gaze dropped, ling

ht pinning me down. The ornate letter opener, the one I had used to shatter our wedding photo, was sudde

ath him. My heart hammered against my

skin. I cried out. A thin line of red appeared, then

This is the first and last time you humiliate me, Elena," he hissed, his voice low and danger

rvient, a beautiful ornament in his opulent cage. It meant me accep

involuntary, spilled from my eyes. Not tears of fear, not entire

oncern, crossed his face, quickly replaced by irritation. He pulled the ornate letter opener away, t

rength. "Get away from me!" My v

ympathy? Is that why you posted that picture, to make me look like the bad guy?" He gestured wildly at the

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the cold, crushing despair in my ch

re just like your mother, Elena," he sneered, quoting his own mother' s favorite insu

t onto the bed, beside my bleeding arm. "You want out, Elena? Fine. Here it is. D

de his signature, a woman's name was scribbled in tiny, elegant script. Aubrey Good. My half-sist

assets. Julian, in his arrogance, truly believed I was a gold digger, that

as w

it, the click echoing in the heavy silence. My signatu

s. My heart felt l

ly a whisper. I didn't know where I

r I knew by heart. "Cooper? It's me.

But he had no idea. He wouldn't know the real Elena until it was too late. He