
My Husband’s Mistress Wore My Mother’s Ashes to the Gala
Chapter 3
The silver pendant gleamed against Aspyn's throat, mocking me with every breath I took. My mother's ashes—the only piece of her I had left—hanging from the neck of the woman who'd stolen my husband's affection.
Something inside me snapped.
"I don't want to play anymore," I said, my voice barely a whisper. Then louder: "Give me my mother's necklace."
Aspyn's eyes widened with mock innocence. "This old thing? But Judah gave it to me."
I lunged forward, my fingers reaching for the chain. "It's mine!"
My hand closed around the pendant just as Aspyn let out a blood-curdling scream. She stumbled backward, her red dress billowing as she collapsed dramatically onto the marble floor.
"She attacked me!" Aspyn wailed, tears streaming down her perfectly made-up face. "She's crazy!"
The ballroom fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned toward us, the orchestra's notes dying in the air.
"Someone call security!" a woman gasped.
I stood frozen, my hand still clutching the necklace. "I didn't—she's lying—"
"Elise!" Judah's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. He pushed through the crowd, his face a mask of cold fury.
For one heartbeat, I thought he would defend me. That he would see through Aspyn's performance.
Instead, he knelt beside Aspyn, gathering her into his arms. "Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?"
"She tried to strangle me," Aspyn sobbed into his shoulder, her voice muffled but carrying in the hushed ballroom.
Judah's grip closed around my wrist like a vise. I gasped as pain shot up my arm.
"Let go of me," I hissed.
"You've embarrassed yourself enough for one evening," he said through clenched teeth, his fingers tightening. "Time to go home."
He dragged me toward the exit, his grip bruising my skin. Behind us, I could hear the whispers starting, the scandal spreading like wildfire.
---
The elevator ride to our penthouse was silent, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. Judah's face remained impassive, but his eyes burned with cold anger.
The moment our door closed behind us, he released my wrist and I stumbled backward.
"You're insane," he spat. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The Hughes name is being dragged through the mud because of your jealous delusions."
"I want my mother's necklace back," I said, rubbing my bruised wrist. "And I want a divorce."
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "A divorce? You think you can walk away from me?"
Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the terrace. The sliding door opened with a soft hiss, and cool Seattle air rushed over us.
"Judah, don't—" I began, but he was already pulling me toward the railing.
Thirty stories below, the city lights blurred like fallen stars. My knees buckled as vertigo gripped me.
"Do you know what happens to people who embarrass me?" he asked quietly, his hand on my back pushing me forward.
I screamed as my upper body tilted over the edge, my feet barely supporting me. The wind whipped my hair across my face as I clutched desperately at the railing.
"Please," I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry about the gala—"
"Sorry isn't enough," he said, his voice eerily calm. "Apologize to Aspyn. On your knees."
"I'll do anything," I sobbed, my terror absolute. "Please pull me back—"
"Swear you'll never touch her again," he demanded.
"I swear—I swear—"
Only then did he pull me back from the edge, my legs collapsing as he released me onto the cold terrace tiles.
---
I waited until his breathing deepened into sleep before I moved. My hands trembled as I packed a small bag—just essentials, just enough to disappear.
The clock on the nightstand read 3:17 AM. I turned off my phone's GPS location and slipped out of the penthouse like a ghost.
The night air felt different against my skin—cleaner somehow, despite the rain that had begun to fall. I hailed a taxi to the nearest hotel, my heart pounding with each passing minute.
"I'd like a room," I told the clerk at the front desk, sliding my credit card across the counter.
She swiped it twice, frowning. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's being declined."
"That's impossible," I whispered. "Try again."
Three cards later, I faced the truth: Judah had frozen all my accounts.
"Is there another way to pay?" I asked, my voice cracking.
The clerk's expression shifted from professional to pitying. "Cash only."
I left the hotel with nowhere to go, rain soaking through my thin dress. After wandering for hours, I found myself in a pawn shop, staring at my wedding ring under harsh fluorescent lights.
"One hundred dollars," the pawnbroker offered.
It wasn't enough—not nearly enough—but it was all I had.
I used that money to check into a motel that smelled of cigarettes and despair, curling into a ball on the stained bedspread as sirens wailed in the distance.
Tomorrow would bring new horrors, I knew. But tonight, I was free.
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