From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Justin woke with a jackhammer pounding behind his temples, groaning as he pushed himself upright. The sheets rustled beside him as Leah stirred.
"Justin..." Her voice was sleep-soft as she curled against him, the blanket slipping to reveal angry red marks trailing down her shoulders.
Any other man would've been tempted to stay.
Justin went rigid. His first instinct was to shove her away.
Last night's fury came rushing back—the moment he'd thought Lara drugged Leah, the blind rage that made him carry Leah upstairs, too far gone to stop himself.
But when she'd kissed him...
A split-second of clarity had cut through the anger. Something primal screaming this was wrong. That no matter how much he loved Leah, this crossed a line.
Maybe part of him even knew it would gut Lara. But then Leah had sobbed, clung to him, begged—
So he'd gone through with it.
Now, in the harsh morning light? Nothing but regret. His gaze dropped to his left hand—the same one he'd used to strike Lara.
Even believing she'd hurt Leah first... something about it sat like a rock in his gut.
Hitting his wife in front of everyone? Fury or not, "deserved" or not—it didn't sit right.
Frowning, he grabbed his phone.
Lara had to be losing it by now. A jealous woman like her? His notifications should've been flooded with screaming texts, voicemails demanding answers for last night's humiliation.
But when the screen lit up, his stomach dropped.
Dozens of missed calls. A barrage of messages.
None from Lara.
Every single one was from his parents.
A cold prickle crawled up his spine. He ignored it, hitting callback on Monica's number.
She answered on the first ring. "You absolute bastard! Have you lost your goddamn mind?!"
Justin jerked the phone away from his ear. "What—"
"You're not even divorced yet and you screw another woman in public?! And let Lara catch you?! Are you trying to destroy this family?!"
His father nearly had a heart attack when those photos surfaced last night!" Monica's voice sharpened to a blade. "We called you all night—where the hell were you?!"
Justin's grip turned vise-tight. "What photos?" His mouth went desert-dry. "Did Lara... send them?"
"Oh, now you care?" A bitter laugh. "No shame at all. Check your messages—take a good, long look at what you've done."
The line went dead. A second later, his screen lit up with forwarded texts.
He tapped the first image—
And the world dropped out from under him.
There they were. Him and Leah. Tangled in bed.
His head buzzed. Gut churning.
For the first time since last night...
Justin realized he'd fucked up.
Bad.
"Justin..." Her voice was sleep-soft as she curled against him, the blanket slipping to reveal angry red marks trailing down her shoulders.
Any other man would've been tempted to stay.
Justin went rigid. His first instinct was to shove her away.
Last night's fury came rushing back—the moment he'd thought Lara drugged Leah, the blind rage that made him carry Leah upstairs, too far gone to stop himself.
But when she'd kissed him...
A split-second of clarity had cut through the anger. Something primal screaming this was wrong. That no matter how much he loved Leah, this crossed a line.
Maybe part of him even knew it would gut Lara. But then Leah had sobbed, clung to him, begged—
So he'd gone through with it.
Now, in the harsh morning light? Nothing but regret. His gaze dropped to his left hand—the same one he'd used to strike Lara.
Even believing she'd hurt Leah first... something about it sat like a rock in his gut.
Hitting his wife in front of everyone? Fury or not, "deserved" or not—it didn't sit right.
Frowning, he grabbed his phone.
Lara had to be losing it by now. A jealous woman like her? His notifications should've been flooded with screaming texts, voicemails demanding answers for last night's humiliation.
But when the screen lit up, his stomach dropped.
Dozens of missed calls. A barrage of messages.
None from Lara.
Every single one was from his parents.
A cold prickle crawled up his spine. He ignored it, hitting callback on Monica's number.
She answered on the first ring. "You absolute bastard! Have you lost your goddamn mind?!"
Justin jerked the phone away from his ear. "What—"
"You're not even divorced yet and you screw another woman in public?! And let Lara catch you?! Are you trying to destroy this family?!"
His father nearly had a heart attack when those photos surfaced last night!" Monica's voice sharpened to a blade. "We called you all night—where the hell were you?!"
Justin's grip turned vise-tight. "What photos?" His mouth went desert-dry. "Did Lara... send them?"
"Oh, now you care?" A bitter laugh. "No shame at all. Check your messages—take a good, long look at what you've done."
The line went dead. A second later, his screen lit up with forwarded texts.
He tapped the first image—
And the world dropped out from under him.
There they were. Him and Leah. Tangled in bed.
His head buzzed. Gut churning.
For the first time since last night...
Justin realized he'd fucked up.
Bad.
End of From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife book page.