I remembered… there was a time when I got a small cut on my finger. Just a tiny one. He panicked back then. Carried me all the way to the hospital, cursing at the doctors to hurry up. They even laughed at him for overreacting.
Now…
That same man didn’t even notice I was hurt.
I wiped my face quickly. Enough. I already decided, didn’t I? So why does it still hurt this much?
I straightened up, ignoring the pain in my back, and walked out of the building.
I didn’t look back.
I went straight to the courthouse and filed for divorce.
There was a waiting period. A month. After that, everything between me and Bernard would be over.
Completely over.
This time, I wasn’t going to stay.
No matter what.
…
That night, Bernard didn’t come home. He only sent me a message. Said he had to stay late at the company, some business that couldn’t wait. Then he added one more line, cold and casual. Don’t be late for dinner tomorrow. That dinner… I was the one who arranged it. A client tied to one of his underground deals. Important. Dangerous. I stared at the screen for a while before replying.
“Okay.”
That was it. I didn’t ask where he really was. What was the point?
...
The next night, I arrived at the club on time. Private room. High-end place. The kind where deals were made over drinks and blood got cleaned before anyone noticed. But he wasn’t there. Instead, I saw Ingrid. She stood up when she saw me, all neat and proper, nothing like yesterday.
“Mrs. MacAllister,” she said politely. “President MacAllister is still in a meeting. He asked me to come ahead and let you know. He also said I should observe and learn.”
Observe? I almost laughed. Still, I nodded and led her inside.
“Fine. Stay close and don’t mess anything up.”
Dinner started. The client was already tipsy, loud, eyes wandering. Ingrid didn’t hold back. She poured drinks, leaned in close, her body brushing against him on purpose. Smiling, laughing, letting him touch her arm longer than necessary. Anyone could see what she was doing. I felt disgust crawl up my throat. I hated this kind of thing. Always had. I built everything without playing those games. I wasn’t about to sit there and watch it happen in front of me. I stood up.
“Excuse me.”
And walked out to the bathroom. When I came back, something felt off. There were people gathered outside the private room, whispering, tense. My heart skipped. I pushed through them and stepped inside. The room was a mess. Chairs knocked over. Glass shattered. The air smelled sharp, metallic. And on the floor… the client lay in a pool of blood. My breath caught.
“What happened?”
Then I saw him. Bernard. He was already there. And in his arms was Ingrid, her hair messy, dress wrinkled, trembling as she clung to him. I understood in an instant. Before I could even speak again, a sharp pain exploded across my face. He slapped me. My head snapped to the side.
“Don’t you know what’s the fuck going on?” he snapped, his voice low and furious, “Naomi, you wanna play dirty, go ahead. I won’t stop you. But don’t drag her into your shit! She’s not built for that. She’s not as ruthless as you.”
I froze. My cheek burned, but it was nothing compared to what his words did. Ruthless? Me? I remembered the early days of the company. Running around, closing deals, facing men who thought they could corner me.
One time it got dangerous. I refused. Walked away even if it meant losing everything. He was furious back then. Stormed to my place, grabbed me, even hit me once in anger. Got himself locked up for a few days because of it. And when he came out, he held me and said, you did the right thing. Thank you for protecting yourself.
From that day on, everyone knew I hated those unspoken rules. But now… this was who I was to him? A woman who’d do anything for business? A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
“Is that really how you see me?”
He paused. Just for a second. Something flickered in his eyes. Then Ingrid tightened her grip on his shirt.
“Mr. MacAllister,” she said weakly, her face flushed, “Your wife… she asked me to drink with him. I told her I couldn’t handle alcohol, but she kept pouring for me. I feel so sick right now…”
Silence. Then his face hardened again. His gaze turned sharp when it landed on me. Cold. Almost disgusted.
“People change,” he said slowly. “I guess I just didn’t see it happening to you.”
That hurt more than the slap. He didn’t wait for me to respond. He picked Ingrid up in his arms, careful, protective.
“Let’s go,” he muttered to her.
And then he walked out. Just like that. I stood there, surrounded by the mess, by the whispers, by the blood. I lowered my eyes. After a long time, I forced a smile. It hurt more than crying. Yeah… people do change. He wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe he never was.
...
On the way home, the streets felt too quiet. I didn’t notice when I was being followed. Not until someone grabbed me and dragged me into a dark alley. My heart jumped into my throat.
“What are you doing?” I struggled, panic rising. “Let me go!”
No answer. They shoved me down and dragged me further, my heels scraping against the ground. I tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. Then I heard water.
A river.
Cold dread crept up my spine.
They hauled me to the edge and forced me down. One of them grabbed my hair and slammed my face into the water.
Everything went black for a second.
I choked, thrashed, tried to breathe but water rushed into my nose and mouth, burning, suffocating. Just when I thought I’d pass out, they yanked me up. I gasped, coughing, barely getting air in.
Then they pushed me down again.
Again.
Again.
I lost count. My lungs screamed, my body went weak, and I couldn’t even struggle properly anymore. I felt myself slipping, like I was already halfway gone.
When they finally stopped, I collapsed on the ground, shaking, coughing up water, my whole body numb.
Then I heard them talking.
“Alright, that’s enough,” one of them said, a little uneasy. “The boss only told us to scare her, not kill her. You wanna deal with the fallout if something happens?”
Another one laughed, “What are you scared of? You seen how that bastard treats his own wife? He doesn’t give a damn about her. Even if we go further, who’s gonna care? Hell, he might even thank us for it.”
My eyes snapped open.
They were talking about Bernard.
