She Walked Away, He Went Mad

Chapter 7

Word Count: 919 | Released on: Today at 15:40

lle

om is suffoca

icipation for a meltdown. I meet Jakes gaze. Hes watching me like a

to meet the family. H

one who swore he would throw away his ent

in, and let the very last ember of my expectations burn out completely. I don't fl

to mee

clinging to Jake's waist li

en as they lock onto mine for a long, heavy moment bef

e, dropping her voice into a vicious sneer. "Please. My

y League aerospace and biomechanics genius. Every major franchise in the NHL is fighting over her. And you? A glorified puck bunny whose only skill is cooking and warming a bed. How could you possibly compete? And don't act l

so-called dinner party. But looking at them now, I realize it was all a setup. T

. "Whether my life goes up in flame

out. Staying in this hous

eady picture the disgust on his face. For three years, hes viewed my marriage to Courtney as nothing but a failed networking opportunity. Since Courtney never gave Trevino Sports & Entertainment concessions

y pro

bedroom apartment just a mile away from my

know if I'll live long enough

the day. I pull out my phone and block Courtneys number, along with all his social media accounts. I only leav

e the mandatory waiting period

tney

nt doors of the townhouse

oad trip, there was always a light on. Camille would come to greet me, take my tailor

t, I hold my coa

s empt

d flick on

absolutely nothing on the dining table, excep

eddin

s before heading upstairs and pushing

he custom war

le is

and over her biomechanics data for Blair, quit her position, an

rd "divorce" she d

, dismissive scoff esca

ng away from home. She is

r without a second glance, and pull out my custom Zippo l

as she ever thrown a fit and not

ill be exac

Chapter End

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She Walked Away, He Went Mad

Delight Abudu Modern

“Three years of secret marriage. A Stage 3 cancer diagnosis on our anniversary. And a $20 million firework show across Boston Harbor-for another woman. On the day I was told I was dying, I stood in the cold hospital lobby and watched the breaking news. Courtney Trevino-the ruthless NHL captain, billionaire heir, and the husband who hadn't looked at me in years-was wrapping his coat around his dazzling "soulmate," Blair, kissing her under a sky lit with her initials. He came home at 1:00 AM with red lipstick smeared on his collar. He didn't ask why I was awake. He just pinned me to the chair with cold, arrogant eyes: "It's your ovulation window. Lie down and do your job. You wanted to be Mrs. Trevino-now give my family an heir." When I refused, he ordered me to do the unthinkable: as his PR manager, I had to draft the official press release declaring him single-personally washing his mistress clean of homewrecker rumors. Everyone treated me like a pathetic, clingy nobody who trapped a god into marriage. Courtney smirked when I whispered the word divorce. "Stop throwing tantrums, Camille. You have nowhere else to go. You'll come crawling back." He was dead wrong. I left my wedding band on the counter, signed away every penny of his fortune, and walked out the door with a single suitcase. What Courtney and high society forgot was who I was before this toxic cage: the premier mind in aerospace biomechanics, the classified legend behind military combat drones, and an untouchable tech pioneer. The "genius" mistress he worshipped wasn't even fit to read my discarded drafts. I have months left to live. I won't waste another second begging for scraps of love. Courtney thought I was bluffing. Until he found the bloody medical reports in the trash, the divorce papers in his archive, and the entire world falling to its knees for the genius he threw away...”