My Husband’s Staged Fall, My Perfect Revenge

“No!” Carol stood her ground, planting her feet. “Preston has lost his mind, you can’t indulge this madness, Scarlett! That woman isn’t qualified to touch him!”

Before she could finish, Preston erupted. “Don’t you dare talk about Tiffany like that! I know better than anyone how powerful her energy is!”

Then, he shot me a fierce glare. “Tiffany just wants a chance to prove herself. She would never risk my life! Scarlett, you’re the malicious one. If you had just listened to me last time, Tiffany wouldn’t have failed!”

I knew he was talking about our past life, but I had no intention of exposing him.

Carol looked completely bewildered, so I played along, furrowing my brow. “What on earth are you talking about? Why would Tiffany fail?”

Preston scrutinized my face, searching for any sign that I’d been reborn with him. A flicker of arrogance and the smug satisfaction of holding all the cards flashed in his eyes. Then he barked, “Just get me to her wellness center now! If she fails again because of you, you’ll be dead long before she does!”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms to suppress the wave of hatred that threatened to consume me.

The image of the sports car spinning out of control, the screech of metal, the consuming fire—it thundered in my mind. I would never, ever experience that pain and despair again.

Preston had done it once; he would do it again without hesitation. This time, I wouldn't give him the chance.

Carol, oblivious to his hidden meaning, waved her hand in frustration. “You’re truly insane! Scarlett, have the bodyguards restrain him and get him in the car!” she shouted, trembling with rage.

Not wanting Preston to suspect I remembered everything, I pretended to comply and moved toward him.

He snatched the nearest crystal figurine and hurled it at my head. “You bitch! If you don't take me to see Tiffany right now, I’ll kill you first!”

The figurine slammed hard against my temple. Carol screamed.

Preston seized my wrist, yanking me to the floor before his hands wrapped around my neck. Even with broken ribs, his strength was terrifying. My vision began to spot.

Carol shrieked, finally conceding. “Enough! Stop it! If you hurt Scarlett, who’s going to fly you to Tiffany?”

Preston released me, a triumphant, cruel smile spreading across his face.

Clutching my throbbing head and bruised throat, I struggled to my feet. The smug satisfaction in his eyes only fanned the flames of hatred in my chest.

I piloted the private jet for three hours, arriving in Sedona that afternoon.

Carol and I checked him in. She was arranging for immediate surgery when Preston realized the attending physician wasn't Tiffany. He flew into a rage, tearing the consent form to shreds.

“I told you, I’ll only let Tiffany treat me!”

A young doctor tried to reason with him. “Ms. Reed isn’t on-site today. Sir, your injuries are severe. You really can’t afford to wait. Please let our trauma surgeon handle this.”

Carol was about to argue, but Preston was already on the phone with Tiffany.

Her sickly-sweet voice chirped through the speaker, “Preston, are you here? Oh, sorry, I didn’t expect you so soon. I’m in the middle of hot stone yoga. Just wait a bit, I'll be right over!”

Carol’s chest heaved with anger, and she looked like she might actually faint.

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for you,” Preston said, his voice tight with pain. “With this exclusive treatment, they're sure to give you that magazine cover.”

Watching the scene unfold, I found it both tragic and utterly ridiculous.

I’d been assaulted by him and had just flown him a thousand miles, yet he hadn’t offered a single word of concern.

But I no longer needed his concern. This time, I was morbidly curious to see if his infatuation would cost him his most precious asset.