My 1000th Attempt Worked

For Jenna, every anniversary with Mark is a fresh descent into humiliation. On their tenth year together, the ruthless billionaire brings an escort to their gala, demanding Jenna surrender her own clothes to the stranger. Though Jenna’s father sold her into this mafia marriage, she finally demands a divorce. However, Mark retaliates with scandalous photos and a threat: if she leaves, he will cut off the funding for her mother’s vital hospital care.

Chapters

Chapter 3

"I'm just here to grab my stuff. After that, I'm out. And when you two tie the knot? Don't bother telling me."

I turned and headed to my old room.

Dad spat behind me, "Ungrateful brat. What the hell do you think you're taking? Or did you crawl back for your mom?"

My stomach dropped.

The urn I kept by my bed—gone.

I whipped around. He was holding it.

My blood iced. I lunged. "Give it back. That's Mom's. You don't get to touch—"

Crash.

Ashes burst across the floor like smoke.

Dad roared, "I don't get to touch it? You dare talk to me like that?!"

Something inside me cracked.

I shoved him hard. "She was your wife—YOUR wife for decades! Do you even have a soul?!"

That set him off.

He snatched a beer bottle and slammed it into my forehead.

Another sharp crack.

Blood poured down my face, soaking my shirt.

Fiona screamed, "Patrick, stop! You're gonna kill her!"

I blinked through the blur, looked up at him.

He just stared—zero shame. Like he was enjoying it.

Then he pulled out his phone, snapped pics of my bleeding face, and called someone.

His voice flipped fake sweet. "Mark, Jenna acting out again. Don't worry, I handled it. Taught her a lesson—check the pics.

"Come on, ten years married, college sweethearts. Don't throw that away. And back then, it was me—I made her dump you.

"But when you crashed your car, it was Jenna who—"

Mark cut in, ice-cold. "Me making it outta that crash had nothing to do with her. Did she even do a damn thing?"

Dad stalled. "Right, right... but she did—"

Mark sighed. "You want money?"

Dad's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, the hospital bills—"

A woman's voice broke in. "Mark, Jenna's not perfect, but don't drag her mom into this."

"You're always so kind," Mark said.

Then the frost hit. "Mr. Jensen, if you want my money, let Jenna crawl back and beg."

Click.

Dad cursed. "I beat you bloody and he still doesn't give a damn. Saving him back then was a waste!

"I don't care what it takes—get money. I'm drowning in debt. I need cash to bounce back. And if you don't bring any, I'll kill you!"

I felt nothing.

Just dropped to my knees, scooped up the ashes, and tucked them gently back into the broken urn.

Then I picked it up, held it tight, and walked out. Silent.

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