Ruining My Husband With the Dangerous Outcast

Kael’s massive hand clamped harder around Julian’s throat. His knuckles turned white from the force.

Julian gagged, his hands frantically clawing at Kael’s thick forearm. The brass poker hovered a millimeter from his right eye.

"I said blink," Kael repeated, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Julian squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked from the corners.

Kael tossed the brass poker aside. It hit the hardwood floor with a loud clatter.

Before Julian could open his eyes, Kael drew his free hand back. He drove his fist directly into the center of Julian’s face.

A sickening crunch echoed through the living room.

Julian crumpled to the floor. Blood gushed from his shattered nose, dripping down his chin and staining his expensive white collar.

"My face!" Julian shrieked, curling into a pathetic ball on the ruined Persian rug. "You broke my nose!"

"Next time, it's your jaw," Kael warned, wiping a drop of blood from his knuckles onto his jeans.

I stood next to the flattened cardboard boxes, staring down at my husband.

For five years, I thought Julian was a pillar of strength. I believed his confident smiles and his commanding tone. Now, watching him sob on the floor over a bloody nose, a dry, unexpected laugh escaped my throat.

He wasn't a man. He was a coward hiding behind expensive suits and stolen money.

"Watch him," I told Kael.

"Take your time," Kael replied, leaning his broad shoulders against the wall.

I turned and walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. The air in here still smelled like his expensive cologne. I ignored the unmade bed and marched straight to the walk-in closet.

I pushed aside a row of his designer suits to reveal the wall safe.

He changed the front door code, but Julian was lazy. He hated memorizing numbers.

I punched in his mother's birthday. The green light flashed. The heavy steel door popped open.

I reached inside and bypassed his fancy watches. My fingers closed around a thick yellow envelope. I pulled it out and checked the contents. The original property deeds. My parents' signatures sat perfectly intact on the bottom line.

"Got you," I whispered.

As I pulled the envelope out, a stack of folded white papers tumbled from the top shelf. They scattered across the closet floor.

I crouched down to pick them up. The bold blue logo of *Silverleaf Community Clinic* caught my eye.

Julian never went to community clinics. He only used private concierge doctors.

I shoved the entire stack of bills into the yellow envelope and hurried back to the living room.

Julian was still on the floor, pressing a throw pillow against his bleeding face.

"I have the deeds," I announced, holding up the envelope.

"Let's go," Kael said.

We didn't look back. We stepped right over the shards of broken porcelain and walked out the front door.

The bright suburban sunlight hit my face. I marched across the lawn toward Kael's idling black pickup truck.

"You're dead!" Julian screamed from the doorway.

I glanced over my shoulder. He stumbled out onto the porch, the bloody pillow still pressed to his face.

"I'm calling the cops!" Julian yelled, pointing a shaking finger at us. "Assault! Burglary! You're going to rot in a cell, Melody!"

He sprinted down the driveway, heading straight for his silver Porsche parked on the curb. He yanked the driver's side handle.

The car didn't budge. It sat strangely low to the ground.

Julian froze. He stared at the front left tire.

The rubber was completely shredded. A massive, gaping slice tore through the sidewall.

He ran to the back tire. Slashed.

He checked the passenger side. Both tires were flat against the asphalt.

"My car!" Julian wailed, dropping the bloody pillow onto the grass. "What did you do to my car?"

I looked up at Kael as he opened the passenger door of the truck for me.

"When exactly did you do that?" I asked.

"While you were busy swinging the poker," Kael answered, a dark smirk playing on his lips. "I told you I don't like bullies."

I climbed onto the worn cloth seat. Kael shut the door, walked around the hood, and slid behind the steering wheel. He shifted the gear stick and slammed his foot on the gas.

The heavy truck roared to life, leaving Julian screaming on the sidewalk.

I leaned back against the headrest, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had my house deeds. I smashed Chloe's flea market boxes. We actually fought back.

"Where to?" Kael asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Anywhere," I said. "Just keep driving."

I placed the yellow envelope on my lap and pulled out the stack of white papers I found in the safe.

"What are those?" Kael glanced at the papers.

"Medical bills," I replied, smoothing out the crumpled edges. "Julian hid them in the safe."

I read the top invoice.

*Patient Name: Chloe Ashford.*

*Service: First Trimester Ultrasound and Fetal Dating.*

*Date of Service: September 14th.*

I stared at the black ink. The numbers didn't make sense.

"Read it again," I muttered to myself, rubbing my eyes.

"Problem?" Kael asked.

"Julian stood in front of fifty people yesterday and announced Chloe was pregnant," I said, my voice trembling. "He told my entire family that their affair started after his business trip. Late August."

"So he lied about the timeline," Kael noted flatly.

"No, you don't understand." I held the paper up, my fingers gripping the edges so hard they turned white. "This ultrasound bill is from September 14th."

Kael hit the brakes, pulling the truck onto the shoulder of the empty road. He shifted into park and turned to face me.

"September," Kael repeated, his dark eyes narrowing.

"That's three months before they supposedly slept together," I whispered, the reality of the dates crashing over me. "Chloe already had a first-trimester ultrasound on file in September."

"Which means she got pregnant in July," Kael finished the math.

I looked out the window. My brain scrambled to piece together the summer. July. Julian was in London for a month-long consulting project. He didn't come home once.

A cold chill swept through the warm truck cabin.

"Julian was out of the country the entire month of July," I said, turning back to Kael.

"Then he isn't the father," Kael stated.

"Or he never went to London at all," I replied, my stomach twisting into a painful knot.

I flipped to the second page of the clinic bill. A signature sat at the bottom of the financial guarantor line. It wasn't Julian's handwriting. It wasn't Chloe's either.

It was a name I recognized instantly.

"Oh my god," I gasped, dropping the paper onto the dashboard.

"Who signed it?" Kael demanded, leaning closer.

I stared at the cursive letters, the ultimate betrayal staring right back at me.

"My brother."