Left To Die: Now The CEO Begs
On our third anniversary, my husband Marcus walked out on our dinner because his "best friend" Izzy had a crisis.
That was the ninth time he chose her call over my presence. According to the sick bet I made with her years ago, it was game over.
But the true end didn't come in a restaurant. It happened inside a plummeting elevator.
When the cable snapped and the emergency brakes slammed us to a halt, I lay trapped under debris, my leg fractured and head bleeding. Izzy, terrified but scratched-free, screamed for help.
Marcus didn't even look at me.
He stepped over my broken body to scoop her up.
"I've got you, Iz," he whispered, carrying her out to safety while I lay alone in the dust, gasping his name.
He left me to die in that metal box.
Later, when I confronted him, he called me "unstable" and "jealous." He claimed I was a burden, a placeholder he married just to pass the time until Izzy was ready for him.
He even shoved me into a freezing lake to protect her from a confrontation she started.
He thought I would always be there, the pathetic wife waiting in the shadows. He thought his love was a prize I would endure any torture to keep.
He was wrong.
I signed the divorce papers, threw my ring into the ocean, and vanished without a trace.
Three years later, I returned to New York as a celebrated artist, with a man who treated me like a masterpiece, not a prop.
Marcus, now ruined by Izzy’s lies and stripped of his fortune, found me. He knelt in the rain on the city street, weeping, begging for one more chance to fix us.
I looked down at the husband who had let me drown.
"There is no 'us', Marcus," I said calmly.
Then I turned my back on him and walked into my future.
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Chapter 4
Ellie POV
I retreated to Montauk to heal.
The salt air was supposed to be a balm for wounds, both visible and invisible. I rented a small cottage far away from the glittering Hamptons crowd, spending my days limping along the beach with my cane, trying to remember who I was before I became Marcus Thorne's doormat.
I didn't expect him to find me.
I was walking near the cliffs, the wind tearing at my coat, when a black Range Rover slowed to a halt beside me. Marcus stepped out.
He looked tired. Haggard, even.
Good.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. I didn't stop walking.
"We need to talk, Ellie. You can't just disappear."
"I signed the papers, Marcus. There is nothing to talk about."
He grabbed my arm.
I flinched.
He let go instantly, looking guilty for a fleeting second.
"Izzy is worried about you," he said.
I laughed. It was a bitter sound that was snatched away by the gale. "Izzy is worried I might actually survive."
"Don't be like that. She feels terrible about the elevator."
I stared at him. He actually believed it. He was so deep in her web he couldn't see the spider eating him alive.
"Go home, Marcus. Go to your girlfriend."
Just then, another car pulled up. A red convertible.
Izzy.
She emerged, looking like she was dressed for a Vogue shoot, not a windy cliffside in October.
"Marcus!" she called out. "I brought you coffee."
She ran over, hooking her arm through his possessively. She looked at me with mock concern. "Oh, Ellie. You look... rough. That cane. Poor thing."
I gripped the handle of my cane until my knuckles turned white. "Leave me alone."
I turned to walk away, closer to the edge of the trail where the lake gathered dark and deep below. The ground was muddy from last night's rain.
Izzy followed me.
"Ellie, wait. We just want to make sure you're stable. You know, mentally."
She stepped closer. Too close.
Marcus was looking at his phone, distracted.
Izzy leaned in. Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"You're making this difficult. Just die already."
She shoved me.
It wasn't a hard shove, but the ground was slick, and my bad leg gave way. I stumbled back, my arms windmilling uselessly.
Izzy screamed. Not a scream of fear, but a performance.
She threw herself to the ground. "Marcus! She hit me!"
Marcus’s head snapped up. He saw Izzy on the ground. He saw me standing over her, trying to regain my balance.
He didn't ask questions. He saw red.
He lunged at me.
He didn't mean to push me off the edge. I knew that, logically. He meant to shove me away from his precious Izzy.
But he shoved hard.
My cane slipped in the mud. I fell backward. The sky spun violently above me.
I hit the water hard.
The cold was a shock to my system. It paralyzed me. My heavy coat instantly became an anchor, dragging me down. My injured leg was useless.
I thrashed, gasping for air, swallowing freezing lake water.
I surfaced, coughing. "Marcus!"
He was standing on the edge of the bank. He wasn't reaching for me. He was helping Izzy up, checking her for invisible injuries.
"Help!" I screamed.
He looked at me. His eyes were cold.
"Stay away from her, Ellie!" he shouted. "You're insane!"
He wasn't coming.
I went under again. The water was dark and murky. My lungs burned.
I thought about fighting. I thought about swimming. But my body was so tired.
I saw a red cloud in the water. My blood. I must have hit a rock.
I floated there, suspended in the cold silence.
This is it, I thought. This is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with my husband watching me drown to protect the woman who pushed me.
I kicked one last time, breaking the surface.
Marcus was walking Izzy back to the car.
He stopped and looked back.
"You best kill this heart of yours, Ellie," he shouted over the wind. "Or I won't let you go."
He turned his back.
I sank.
The darkness welcomed me. It was kinder than he ever was.