Her Regret, His Peace

Name: Her Regret, His Peace
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Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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They told me it was a contract marriage, a deal to save my mother' s life. In reality, it was my own slow death sentence. For three years, I was hired to be Chloe Davis' s husband, the man she blamed for ruining her life after her high school sweetheart dumped her. I endured her endless parade of boyfriends, her daily allowance of five dollars, and constant humiliation, all to ensure my ailing mother received the best care. Then, the day my mother died, Chloe' s assistant called, demanding I return home from the funeral to make snacks for a party. Chloe, my wife, had no idea my mother was gone. Days later, I learned the truth: my mother had committed suicide to free me, after Chloe' s cousin, Jake Stone, maliciously convinced her that she was an inescapable burden. That night, at a club, Chloe poured red wine over my head for Jake' s amusement. But the ultimate betrayal came when I collapsed from malnutrition and exhaustion. Chloe visited me in the hospital, not with concern, but to demand I take the fall for Jake' s drunk driving accident. The irony was suffocating; her own reckless driving had caused the power outage that shut down my mother' s life support, effectively killing her. "No," I told her, my voice finally firm after years of silence. "I want a divorce." Her shock was absolute; I had never defied her. Before I could escape, Jake ambushed me, confessing his role in my mother' s death, triggering a rage that landed me back in the hospital. Yet, Chloe watched as her bodyguards, on her command, broke my ribs and crushed my painting hand. Why had my life become this torment? Why had I, a quiet artist, become the target of such unbridled cruelty? I left with my mother' s ashes, leaving behind all the money, and promised myself I' d never look back.

Betrayal Revenge Divorce Flash marriage Drama

Chapter 10

07-04 16:15

Introduction

They told me it was a contract marriage, a deal to save my mother' s life.

In reality, it was my own slow death sentence.

For three years, I was hired to be Chloe Davis' s husband, the man she blamed for ruining her life after her high school sweetheart dumped her.

I endured her endless parade of boyfriends, her daily allowance of five dollars, and constant humiliation, all to ensure my ailing mother received the best care.

Then, the day my mother died, Chloe' s assistant called, demanding I return home from the funeral to make snacks for a party.

Chloe, my wife, had no idea my mother was gone.

Days later, I learned the truth: my mother had committed suicide to free me, after Chloe' s cousin, Jake Stone, maliciously convinced her that she was an inescapable burden.

That night, at a club, Chloe poured red wine over my head for Jake' s amusement.

But the ultimate betrayal came when I collapsed from malnutrition and exhaustion.

Chloe visited me in the hospital, not with concern, but to demand I take the fall for Jake' s drunk driving accident.

The irony was suffocating; her own reckless driving had caused the power outage that shut down my mother' s life support, effectively killing her.

"No," I told her, my voice finally firm after years of silence.

"I want a divorce."

Her shock was absolute; I had never defied her.

Before I could escape, Jake ambushed me, confessing his role in my mother' s death, triggering a rage that landed me back in the hospital.

Yet, Chloe watched as her bodyguards, on her command, broke my ribs and crushed my painting hand.

Why had my life become this torment?

Why had I, a quiet artist, become the target of such unbridled cruelty?

I left with my mother' s ashes, leaving behind all the money, and promised myself I' d never look back.