His Possession, Her Escape

Name: His Possession, Her Escape
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Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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I was the wife of Brennan Johnson, the head of the Sterling Syndicate. For years, I was the perfect partner, helping him climb from a young enforcer to the undisputed boss, believing he was the man who had once saved my life and promised to protect me forever. That illusion shattered when I overheard him promising that same protection to a young art student he was sleeping with. When I confronted him, he called me tainted and complicated. When I asked for a divorce, he cut my cheek with shattered glass and snarled that I belonged to him. He publicly gave my foundation and a necklace meant for me to his mistress, declaring her his "one and only" in front of the entire city. The ultimate betrayal came when we were both kidnapped. The kidnappers held a knife to each of our throats and told him to choose. He looked at me, his wife, and said, "I choose her." He abandoned me to be assaulted and killed, walking away with his new love without a backward glance. But I didn't die. An old family loyalist saved me. I faked my death, escaped the country, and built a new life from the ashes of the old one. I was finally free. Until tonight, when he walked into my restaurant, a ghost from a life I had buried. He found me. And he wants me back.

Crime Thriller Modern Betrayal Revenge

Chapter 21

08-13 22:22

Chapter 1

That illusion shattered when I overheard him promising that same protection to a young art student he was sleeping with.

When I confronted him, he called me tainted and complicated. When I asked for a divorce, he cut my cheek with shattered glass and snarled that I belonged to him. He publicly gave my foundation and a necklace meant for me to his mistress, declaring her his "one and only" in front of the entire city.

The ultimate betrayal came when we were both kidnapped. The kidnappers held a knife to each of our throats and told him to choose.

He looked at me, his wife, and said, "I choose her."

He abandoned me to be assaulted and killed, walking away with his new love without a backward glance.

But I didn't die. An old family loyalist saved me.

I faked my death, escaped the country, and built a new life from the ashes of the old one. I was finally free.

Until tonight, when he walked into my restaurant, a ghost from a life I had buried. He found me. And he wants me back.

Chapter 1

I spent three full days arranging the final details for Brennan' s anniversary celebration. The Sterling Syndicate' s annual event was a display of power, and as Brennan Johnson' s wife, my role was to ensure it was flawless. I was exhausted, my feet aching from standing, but a deep sense of satisfaction filled me. I did this for him. For us.

The mansion was quiet now, the last of the planners gone for the night. I walked through the grand hallway, my hand trailing along the cool marble wall. I just wanted a hot bath and to fall into bed.

As I neared our bedroom, I saw a sliver of light from under the door of Brennan' s study. That was odd. He rarely worked this late at home anymore.

I walked closer, my footsteps silent on the plush runner. I was about to knock when I heard voices from inside. One was Brennan' s, low and smooth. The other was his sister' s, Breann.

I stopped, my hand hovering in the air. A cold feeling started in my stomach.

"Is it done?" Brennan asked. His voice was different. Colder.

"Yes," Breann replied, her tone sharp. "Everything is in place. Alyssa will be there tomorrow. She won't suspect a thing."

My breath caught in my throat. A conspiracy? Involving me?

"And Debbi?" Brennan' s voice softened slightly. "She' s with Gianna. I' ll go get her later."

"Just leave her to me," Breann said dismissively. "You need to handle things here."

Debbi Foley. An art student. Young, innocent, the kind of girl who looked at Brennan with wide, worshipful eyes. He' d introduced her to me weeks ago, a promising artist he was sponsoring.

"I' ll protect her," Brennan promised, his voice firm. "No one will touch her."

"Just be careful, Brennan," Breann warned. "Don't let the old guard get wind of this. Especially not with the Feds sniffing around."

"I know what I'm doing," he said. I heard the soft click of his lighter, a sound I knew so well. He was in control. Or he thought he was.

The words hit me like a physical blow. The air left my lungs. My world, which had felt so solid just moments before, fractured. Betrayal. It was a simple word, but it tasted like acid in my mouth.

My mind flashed back to the day we met. Brennan, a young enforcer, had saved me from a rival family' s attack. He was fearless, covered in blood but his eyes were only for me. He promised to protect me forever.

He whispered those promises a thousand times. When he asked me to marry him, consolidating his power with my family' s legacy, he swore I was the only thing that mattered. He bought me the rarest flowers, the most expensive jewels, and told me my smile was all the wealth he needed.

Now, that man was gone. In his place was a stranger, a conspirator who spoke of another woman with a promise of protection he once gave only to me.

My hand trembled as I pushed the study door open.

The room was filled with smoke. Brennan sat behind his large mahogany desk, Breann standing beside him. They both looked up, their conversation cut short.

Brennan' s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of surprise, before his face settled into a mask of calm.

"Alyssa," he said, his voice a smooth, casual greeting. "You're still up."

Breann crossed her arms, her expression a mixture of annoyance and defiance. "What are you doing here?"

I felt like an intruder in my own home. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I had raised Breann after her parents died. I had treated her like my own sister.

"I heard everything," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

Brennan leaned back in his chair. He didn't deny it. He just looked at me, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips. "And?"

The casualness of his response was more painful than a slap.

"So it' s true," I whispered. "You and Debbi."

"Yes," he said, his voice flat. He took a drag from his cigarette. "She' s clean, Alyssa. She' s simple. Not like you." He then added softly, almost to himself, "I' ll take care of her."

He was telling me to accept it. To be the good wife and look the other way. The humiliation burned through me.

"No," I said, the word barely a whisper. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.

"I want a divorce."

The moment the words left my lips, I hated myself. A part of me, the part that still loved the man he used to be, screamed in protest. But the woman standing in this room, the woman who had just heard her life was a lie, knew there was no other way.

Brennan' s face changed. The calm mask shattered, replaced by pure rage. He swept his arm across the desk, sending a crystal glass crashing against the wall. It exploded into a thousand pieces.

A shard flew through the air, slicing a thin, deep cut across my cheek. The sharp sting brought tears to my eyes.

He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in two long strides. He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my skin, forcing me to look at him.

"Divorce?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. "Don't you ever say that word to me. You are my wife. You belong to me."

He tightened his grip, his thumb pressing hard against the cut on my cheek, smearing the blood. The pain was sharp, a brutal punctuation to his words.

"You're hurting me," I choked out, my voice thick with anger and tears. "You're going too far, Brennan."

His eyes, once so full of love for me, were now cold and empty. But then, for a moment, they flickered. He loosened his grip slightly.

"Your position as Mrs. Johnson is safe," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "But you will learn to be obedient."

He released me and turned away. He and Breann walked out of the study, leaving me alone with the shattered glass and the ruins of my marriage.

A chill spread through my body. I knew Brennan' s reputation. I had seen his iron fist deal with enemies of the Sterling Syndicate. He was ruthless, a man who never hesitated to eliminate a threat.

But he had never shown that side to me. Not once.

I remembered the early days, how he would shield me from the harsh realities of his world. He' d come home with blood on his knuckles but would wash his hands before touching me, telling me I was too pure for his world.

I chose him. Against my father's warnings, against the advice of everyone who knew his ambition, I chose him. I believed in his love.

Now, he was the undisputed boss. His power was absolute. And I was no longer his treasure to be protected. I was just another possession.

A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. How quickly a man's heart can change.

I cried all night, curled on the floor of the study, until the first rays of dawn crept through the windows. My body ached, my face throbbed, but the pain in my heart was a gaping wound.

I dragged my broken body to the bathroom, my reflection in the mirror a stranger. A woman with a bruised face and dead eyes.

As I stood under the hot water, trying to wash away the filth of the night, the bathroom door was kicked open with a deafening crash.

Brennan stood there, his face a mask of thunder. He threw a stack of photographs at me. They scattered on the wet floor, the images stark and damning.

They were of me, talking to a man in a cafe. The angle was intimate, making it look like a clandestine meeting.

"What is this?" he roared.

"I don't know," I said, my voice trembling. I recognized the man. A junior associate from a rival family. I had met him once, a brief, public conversation. Someone had set me up.

"You don't know?" Brennan sneered. He snapped his fingers, and two of his men appeared at the door. "Hold her."

They grabbed me, their hands rough on my wet skin. I struggled, but it was useless. Brennan picked up his phone and aimed the camera at me. Humiliation and pain washed over me as the flash went off, capturing my most vulnerable, degraded moment.

He looked at the picture on his screen, a cruel smile of satisfaction on his face. "Now you have something to remember this by," he said coldly. "Don't ever forget your place, Alyssa."

He turned and left. I collapsed onto the cold tiles, the water from the shower mixing with my tears. A desolate coldness settled deep in my bones.

He had built a fortress around me for years, protecting me from his enemies. Now, because of some cheap trick, he was the one tearing me down.

There' s an old saying: when the rabbit is no longer needed, the hunting dog gets cooked. I was his hunting dog. I helped him secure his position, and now I was disposable.

But I wasn't done.

I pulled myself up, my body screaming in protest. I found my own phone, my fingers shaking as I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

It rang once, twice, before a familiar, gravelly voice answered. "Carroll."

"It's me, Alyssa," I whispered.

There was a moment of silence. "What's wrong, kid?"

"I need to disappear, Carroll," I said, the words tumbling out. "I need you to help me fake my death."

Another silence, longer this time. I could hear the weight of my request settling on him. He was my father's consigliere, a man of deep loyalty. Brennan had forced him into retirement, but I knew his loyalty was to my family, not to the man who now wore the crown.

"It will take time," he finally said. "His eyes are everywhere."

"I know," I replied. I knew Carroll still had his network, the old guard who respected my father. He was my only hope.

"I can wait," I said, hanging up the phone.

I would wait. I would endure. And then, I would be free.