From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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The night Justin carried Leah away, he'd made his intentions crystal clear to Lara. What he hadn't anticipated? Me tailing him. Or her snapping that damning photo.
An uncomfortable tightness settled in his chest. Had she witnessed everything? His gaze dropped to Lara's message to his parents:
[I've given this marriage everything I had. If I can't change him, walking away is my only option.]
Justin's fingers dug into his phone. Lara was leaving? Just like that?
Something cold and unfamiliar slithered up his spine—something alarmingly close to panic. Isn't this what you wanted? Then why does it feel like the floor's collapsing beneath you?
Shoving the thought aside, he grabbed his clothes. Leah's fingers brushed his arm, her voice honey-sweet. "Justin, stay... please."
He didn't even glance her way. The door flew open—only for an envelope to flutter to his feet.
His hands trembled as he ripped it open. Divorce papers. Signed. His signature already dried on the page, like the ink in their marriage.
Before the shock could fully register, Leah's arms encircled his waist from behind. "Justin," she breathed against his back, "what's wrong? Don't leave me here alone... I'm scared."
He barely processed her words. His attention snagged on her exposed waist—specifically, the unblemished skin where a surgical scar should've been.
His gut twisted. Wrenching her around, he gripped her wrist like a vise. "You swore you gave me a kidney," he growled. "So where's your scar?"
Leah jerked back, yanking her shirt down. "What—that's ridiculous!" Her laugh rang hollow. "I just... heal really well."
Justin's jaw locked. The pieces weren't adding up. For weeks, Leah had played the delicate recovering patient—yet she'd never shown actual weakness. Meanwhile Lara, who'd never mentioned surgery, looked like death warmed over—pale, exhausted, running fevers.
A sickening realization sucker-punched him. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "If you won't talk, we'll let the hospital records do the talking."
Leah went sheet-white as he dragged her out.
The exam took minutes. Justin stood rigid as the doctor flipped pages without looking up. "As I said," the man sighed, "no surgical scars. Ms. Sloane never donated a kidney." He turned the report. "Both kidneys present and accounted for."
Justin's blood turned to ice. But the doctor wasn't done.
"However," he adjusted his glasses, eyeing Leah, "Ms. Sloane does need medical attention. Multiple abortions have severely damaged her uterine lining—"
The words blurred into white noise. Seven. The number detonated in Justin's skull like a grenade.
"Shut your filthy mouth!" Leah screeched, lunging at the doctor. "I'll sue you for slander, you hack!"
The doctor batted her hand away, his patience evaporating. "Slander? Your records show seven abortions in twelve months. The most recent was four weeks ago. Explain how that's slander?"
Justin staggered back as if physically struck. His entire body locked up, face draining of color.
"Seven," he choked out.
When he looked at Leah now, he saw a stranger. The woman he'd nearly died for seven times had been terminating seven pregnancies behind his back.
"Leah," his voice cracked, raw with betrayal, "you swore I was your only love. I tried to kill myself seven times for you... while you were having seven abortions?" His breath came in ragged gasps. "What the hell was I to you?"
Leah clawed at his sleeve, desperation pitching her voice. "Justin, no! I was coerced! I'd never betray you!"
Her words barely registered. The world had gone muffled, like he was watching his life implode from outside his body.
Turning to the doctor, Justin asked the only question left: "Just tell me this—who actually gave me their kidney?"
The doctor scanned the records, then met Justin's gaze squarely. "Lara Kessler. Your wife."
The air left Justin's lungs. The doctor shook his head with a mirthless chuckle. "How blind can one man be? The woman you discarded is the one who saved your life."
The full weight of his choices crashed down on Justin—a wrecking ball to the gut.
An uncomfortable tightness settled in his chest. Had she witnessed everything? His gaze dropped to Lara's message to his parents:
[I've given this marriage everything I had. If I can't change him, walking away is my only option.]
Justin's fingers dug into his phone. Lara was leaving? Just like that?
Something cold and unfamiliar slithered up his spine—something alarmingly close to panic. Isn't this what you wanted? Then why does it feel like the floor's collapsing beneath you?
Shoving the thought aside, he grabbed his clothes. Leah's fingers brushed his arm, her voice honey-sweet. "Justin, stay... please."
He didn't even glance her way. The door flew open—only for an envelope to flutter to his feet.
His hands trembled as he ripped it open. Divorce papers. Signed. His signature already dried on the page, like the ink in their marriage.
Before the shock could fully register, Leah's arms encircled his waist from behind. "Justin," she breathed against his back, "what's wrong? Don't leave me here alone... I'm scared."
He barely processed her words. His attention snagged on her exposed waist—specifically, the unblemished skin where a surgical scar should've been.
His gut twisted. Wrenching her around, he gripped her wrist like a vise. "You swore you gave me a kidney," he growled. "So where's your scar?"
Leah jerked back, yanking her shirt down. "What—that's ridiculous!" Her laugh rang hollow. "I just... heal really well."
Justin's jaw locked. The pieces weren't adding up. For weeks, Leah had played the delicate recovering patient—yet she'd never shown actual weakness. Meanwhile Lara, who'd never mentioned surgery, looked like death warmed over—pale, exhausted, running fevers.
A sickening realization sucker-punched him. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth. "If you won't talk, we'll let the hospital records do the talking."
Leah went sheet-white as he dragged her out.
The exam took minutes. Justin stood rigid as the doctor flipped pages without looking up. "As I said," the man sighed, "no surgical scars. Ms. Sloane never donated a kidney." He turned the report. "Both kidneys present and accounted for."
Justin's blood turned to ice. But the doctor wasn't done.
"However," he adjusted his glasses, eyeing Leah, "Ms. Sloane does need medical attention. Multiple abortions have severely damaged her uterine lining—"
The words blurred into white noise. Seven. The number detonated in Justin's skull like a grenade.
"Shut your filthy mouth!" Leah screeched, lunging at the doctor. "I'll sue you for slander, you hack!"
The doctor batted her hand away, his patience evaporating. "Slander? Your records show seven abortions in twelve months. The most recent was four weeks ago. Explain how that's slander?"
Justin staggered back as if physically struck. His entire body locked up, face draining of color.
"Seven," he choked out.
When he looked at Leah now, he saw a stranger. The woman he'd nearly died for seven times had been terminating seven pregnancies behind his back.
"Leah," his voice cracked, raw with betrayal, "you swore I was your only love. I tried to kill myself seven times for you... while you were having seven abortions?" His breath came in ragged gasps. "What the hell was I to you?"
Leah clawed at his sleeve, desperation pitching her voice. "Justin, no! I was coerced! I'd never betray you!"
Her words barely registered. The world had gone muffled, like he was watching his life implode from outside his body.
Turning to the doctor, Justin asked the only question left: "Just tell me this—who actually gave me their kidney?"
The doctor scanned the records, then met Justin's gaze squarely. "Lara Kessler. Your wife."
The air left Justin's lungs. The doctor shook his head with a mirthless chuckle. "How blind can one man be? The woman you discarded is the one who saved your life."
The full weight of his choices crashed down on Justin—a wrecking ball to the gut.
End of From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to From Burning Bride to Runaway Wife book page.