From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

The instant Justin lifted his hand, two hulking bodyguards muscled forward and slammed me onto the wet pavement. I thrashed against their vise-like grips, but it was like fighting steel cables. Helpless, I could only watch as Justin and Leah strolled away like royalty.
At the car door, Leah paused. That slow, catlike smile curled her lips as our eyes locked. With a theatrical hair toss over her shoulder, she disappeared inside - taking my family heirloom with her.
The goons only released me when the taillights vanished around the bend. That's when the skies opened up.
Soaked to the bone with rain plastering my hair to my face, I didn't go home. Instead, I collapsed before my parents' graves. Icy rainwater blended with my hot tears as I choked out, "Mom...Dad...I failed you. I couldn't keep safe what you left me."
My nails bit into my palms. "But I swear on your memory - never again."
I let the downpour scour me raw before finally dragging myself home. The signed divorce papers crinkled in my grip as I stepped inside - only to find Justin and Leah dolled up by the door.
Justin's face twisted in disgust as he took in my drowned-rat appearance. "Where the hell were you?" he barked. "Gala dinner tonight. Dry off and change - you're coming."
No argument. Just obedience. I reappeared in some bland cocktail dress and followed like a trained dog.
Of course, the moment we arrived, my husband ghosted me - his actual wife - to fawn over Leah all night. Refilling her champagne. Introducing her to VIPs. Making damn sure everyone knew who really mattered.
The whispers hit like shrapnel:
"Jesus, Lara's got the patience of a saint. Seven suicide attempts to ditch her and she's still playing happy wife?"
"Orphan's got no options. Clawed her way into the Stokes empire - you think she'll let go?"
"Cold. Her parents died saving both her and Justin. The Stokes owe her."
"And Leah? Total snake. Lara defended her from bullies all through school. This is her thanks? Stealing the man?"
The murmurs crescendoed until-
"ENOUGH!" Justin's roar shattered the room. His champagne flute exploded against the table, crystal shards skittering everywhere. Veins bulged at his temples as he panted, "Leah's done nothing wrong. I choose her."
His glare dared anyone to contradict. "One more word about her," he growled, "and consider our business relationship terminated."
For years, I'd endured these same whispers about Justin's suicide attempts to escape me. The pitying stares. The rumors. He knew - and never cared.
But let one person side-eye Leah? Suddenly he's ready to torch bridges and throw tantrums like a toddler. Pathetic.
Didn't matter now. I just had to survive this dinner, hand him the papers, and walk away forever.
When Justin disappeared to the restroom, Leah slithered over, swirling a suspiciously dark glass of wine.
"Want your precious amulet back?" she purred, lips curling. "Drink this and it's yours."
The liquid looked wrong - thick, almost syrupy. I met her gaze. "What's in this?"
Her smile faltered for a nanosecond before sharpening. "Paranoid much? Drinking or not?" She grabbed my wrist, forcing the glass upward - then her eyes darted behind me.
In a blink, she twisted our hands, dumping the contents down her own throat. She barely had time to gag before collapsing.
"LEAH!" Justin came sprinting, catching her melodramatic faint. Then his palm cracked across my face so hard I saw stars.
"You psychotic bitch!" he roared. "What did you make her drink?"
Leah whimpered against his chest, "Justin...she forced me...aphrodisiac...I feel so..."
"Shh, I've got you," he crooned, scooping her up. His parting glare promised violence: "This isn't over, Lara."
The crowd's laughter followed me as I climbed the stairs. My cheek burned, but the real pain was the ice spreading through my chest.
From the master bedroom, the sounds were unmistakable: rustling silk, Leah's theatrical moans, Justin's grunts. Hands steady despite the tremors, I snapped a photo through the cracked door and texted it to his parents with one line: [I tried. He's your problem now.]
The divorce papers slid silently under the door. My final gift.
By the time he found them, I'd be airborne. The town car idled at the curb, ready to whisk me to the airport - and my new life.