Finding Freedom In A Small Town
I was a billionaire's trophy wife, but when I fell ill, I had to beg my husband, Adam, for fifty dollars just to buy tampons.
He refused, humiliating me for mismanaging my meager allowance.
Minutes later, my phone lit up with photos of him on a yacht, gifting his ex-girlfriend a five-million-dollar necklace. The messages from other wives were brutal: "Poor Aubrey. Always second best."
He had forbidden me from working, from having any independence, calling me an "ornament." I was a possession he'd bought, worth less than the jewelry he gave another woman.
The humiliation burned hotter than any fever. He controlled my life, but he wouldn't control my escape.
Standing drenched in the rain, I made a decision. If money was freedom, I would earn it myself. I pushed open the heavy door to The Velvet Lounge, a high-end club where secrets were sold and fortunes were made. My new life was about to begin.
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Chapter 6
Aubrey POV:
My face went ashen. The demand hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My eyes darted from Adam's cold gaze to the medical team, impassive in their white uniforms, then to the security guards, their faces blank. The raw shame of it twisted in my gut.
"Are you… are you asking me to undress, here? In front of everyone?" My voice was a brittle whisper, fragile with disbelief.
Adam' s jaw tightened. "I am asking you to prove you've done nothing to disgrace the Mercado name, Aubrey. Now. Take them off. And where exactly were you last night?" His voice was a low growl, an icy threat.
A wave of nausea washed over me. Someone had clearly poisoned his ear. Elenore, perhaps, with her poisoned whispers. She must have spread rumors about my absence. My mind raced, frantically searching for a plausible lie.
"I told you, I was at a friend' s," I reiterated, my voice gaining a desperate edge. "I needed to dry my clothes. The rain…"
He cut me off, his patience visibly fraying. "Don't insult my intelligence, Aubrey. I' ve known for hours that no 'friend' of yours would allow you to stay out all night without contacting me. So, if you weren' t with a friend, where were you? And why are you so resistant to a simple check-up?" His eyes narrowed, suspicion burning in their depths. "Unless of course, you have something to hide."
My vision blurred. A hot, stinging sensation pricked behind my eyes. This was it. The ultimate humiliation. My dignity, already tattered, was about to be shredded to pieces. Slowly, my hands shaking uncontrollably, I began to unbutton my blouse. Each button felt like an act of self-betrayal, a concession to his cruelty. My fingers fumbled, my breath caught in my throat. I felt my self-worth draining away with every piece of clothing I shed, leaving me raw and exposed.
Tears welled, hot and stinging, blurring the faces of the silent spectators. I closed my eyes, a single tear escaping, tracing a path down my cheek. I stood there, naked, vulnerable, utterly defeated.
Just as the doctor stepped forward, a medical kit in hand, Adam' s voice, sharp and sudden, cut through the silence. "Stop."
My eyes flew open. Adam stood rigid, his gaze fixed on my trembling form. Then, to my utter shock, he waved his hand dismissively at the assembled team. "Everyone. Out. Now."
The doctors and guards, accustomed to his absolute authority, quickly gathered their equipment and retreated, leaving Adam and me alone in the cavernous foyer. The sudden quiet was deafening.
He walked past me, still not meeting my eyes, and picked up my discarded blouse. He turned, holding it out to me. His face was unreadable. "Dress yourself, Aubrey," he said, his voice softer now, almost weary. "And don't lie to me again. Do you understand?"
I nodded mutely, my hands still trembling as I took the blouse and quickly covered myself. My skin felt raw, exposed, even under the fabric. My heart was a bruised, hollow thing.
Later, hidden away in my bedroom, I risked a glance at my phone. The "Elite Wives" chat was ablaze. "Did you hear? Adam forced Aubrey to submit to a physical inspection! In front of everyone!" "Proof of her infidelity, no doubt!" "She deserves it, trying to run off with someone else's husband!"
I locked the phone, throwing it onto the bed. The venomous whispers were a distant hum now, incapable of reaching the core of my newfound resolve. It was a clear confirmation that my reputation was irrevocably shattered. There was nothing left to lose.
I pulled out my small notebook. Under "Escape Fund," I added a new line: "Dignity: Priceless."
Exhaustion, both emotional and physical, finally claimed me. I slipped into a fitful sleep, memories and emotions swirling in a chaotic eddy. In my half-sleep, I felt a familiar weight beside me on the bed. Adam. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. A kiss, soft and unexpected, brushed against my temple.
"Francis," I murmured, the name escaping my lips like a sigh, a ghost of a dream.
The arms around me stiffened. The kiss aborted. "Who was that, Aubrey?" Adam's voice was sharp, a sudden jolt of electricity. "Who did you just call out?"
My eyes snapped open. Adam was staring at me, his face a mask of rage, his breath hot against my cheek. "N-no one," I stammered, my heart leaping into my throat. "Just a dream. I was dreaming."
"Don't lie to me!" he roared, shaking me. "Who is Francis?"
"It was just a dream, Adam, please!" I pleaded, terror seizing me.
His face contorted, a mixture of anger and something else-wounded pride? He lost all interest in tenderness. His movements became rough, punishing. He took me again, not with passion, but with a desperate, crushing force, as if to reassert his ownership, to erase the name that had slipped from my lips. His teeth grazed my shoulder, a sharp, searing pain. I cried out, a muffled sound of pain and despair, pulling him closer, anything to make it stop, to appease him, to make it end.
His voice, a low, tortured whisper in my ear, was almost lost in the darkness. "I regret it, Aubrey. I regret it all."