Prepare the Divorce and Ruin My HusbandChapter 1
My husband was getting married.
Not somewhere else. Not in secret. In our house. With another woman. With my parents and his parents sitting in the front row, smiling like this was a blessing from heaven.
This was the first thing I saw after I tore myself out of a kidnapper’s grip and ran home barefoot, bleeding, half dead.
Among the guests, I saw him.
Westley George.
The man who chained me to a concrete floor. The man who broke my ribs when I cried too loud. The man who kept me for a full year and made sure I never forgot who owned my pain.
He was sitting comfortably, sipping champagne, laughing with my in-laws like an old friend. Back then, the chain burned my ankle raw as he crouched in front of me, fingers lazy around the key.
“You keep calling his name,” Westley George said softly. “Your husband? He will never save you. He handed you to me like an offering.”
I spat blood and shook my head. “You’re lying!”
He laughed, “He loves your sister. Always has. You? You were convenient. Expendable.”
I did not believe him. I remembered David’s hands at my waist, the way he kissed my forehead every night, the vows whispered like secrets. I clung to those memories like scripture.
Westley only smiled wider. “Hold on to that,” he said. “It will hurt more when you finally see the truth.”
My vision went white.
A year ago, my husband had been taken.
David Vanderbilt. Mafia boss of the east coast. Untouchable. Feared.
They said he was kidnapped.
For our son. For the family. For the empire. I did not hesitate. I stepped forward and said take me instead. I thought I was being brave. I thought I was being a wife… I became the hostage. I became the bargaining chip. I became nothing.
And now my son?
My little boy.
Ryle Vanderbilt was walking through the crowd with a tray too heavy for his thin arms. He bowed his head at every step, voice small and flat.
“Please enjoy, sir.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I am sorry! I will be faster.”
He looked like he was afraid to breathe.
Like fear had been trained into his bones.
When I stumbled inside, the music stopped mid note. Every face turned. David was standing at the altar, ring in his hand. For half a second, his eyes widened.
Then his face went cold.
“This is a wedding!” he said sharply. “Whatever nonsense you came to say can wait until tomorrow. Look at you. Dirty. Bloody. You stink. Leave now and do not ruin this.”