The Unwanted Wife's Flawless Spectacular Comeback

The heavy oak door of the master bedroom yielded with a faint, agonizing creak.

Ellyn stepped into the suffocating darkness of the penthouse suite. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that made her chest ache. She gripped the porcelain saucer so tightly her knuckles turned a translucent white. The chamomile tea sloshed over the rim, burning her thumb, but she didn't dare make a sound.

The air in the room was thick. It smelled of expensive scotch and raw, unbridled male sweat.

"Baron?" she whispered. Her voice trembled.

A massive, scorching hand shot out from the shadows.

Fingers like steel clamps locked around her wrist. The teacup slipped from her grasp, hitting the thick Persian rug with a muffled thud.

Ellyn gasped as a brutal force yanked her forward. The world spun. Her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and she was thrown violently onto the center of the king-size bed. Her head bounced against the mattress, leaving her dizzy and gasping for breath.

Before she could push herself up, a towering figure lunged over her.

Baron pinned her down. His weight was crushing. The heat radiating from his body felt like an open furnace. In the sliver of moonlight slicing through the curtains, his eyes were bloodshot. They burned with a feral, violent rage.

His large hand shot up and gripped her jaw. His thumb dug into her cheek, right next to the ugly, textured scar that ruined the left side of her face. The pressure was so intense she thought her bone would snap.

"Ellyn," he snarled.

He ground her name out between his teeth like it was a curse. The sheer disgust in his voice made her stomach drop to her knees.

"Baron, you're hurting me. I just brought you tea-"

"Shut up."

He cut her off, his voice a low, dangerous growl. His other hand grabbed the collar of her modest cotton nightgown.

With one violent yank, the fabric tore.

The sound of ripping cotton echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. Cold air hit her bare skin. Ellyn shivered violently, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

"You think you can drug me?" Baron sneered. His breath was hot against her face. "You think slipping something in my drink will make me touch you? Make you a real Hudson wife?"

"No! I didn't!" Ellyn cried out. She thrashed under him, her nails scraping desperately across his broad shoulders.

Her resistance only fueled his drug-induced rage. He caught both of her wrists in one hand and slammed them into the mattress above her head.

"You want this so badly?" he mocked. "You want to secure your pathetic little spot in this family?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't care about her tears.

The pain was a sudden, tearing agony that ripped the breath from her lungs. Ellyn bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood. She refused to scream. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the hot tears roll down her temples and soak into the velvet bedsheets.

Every movement was a punishment. He was destroying the last ten years of her silent, pathetic devotion. He was grinding her dignity into the dirt.

When it was finally over, the silence returned, heavier and colder than before.

Baron rolled off her. He shoved her shoulder away as if touching her bare skin physically repulsed him. He stood up, his chest heaving, and snatched a silk robe from the armchair.

He didn't look at her. He walked to the nightstand, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out a thick stack of papers.

He turned and threw them at her.

The heavy document hit her bare, bruised chest. The sharp edge of the paper sliced across the back of her hand. A thin line of blood welled up instantly.

Ellyn flinched, pulling the torn sheets of the bed around her shivering body. She looked down. In bold, black letters across the top page, it read: Divorce Agreement.

"Sign it," Baron commanded.

He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth. He looked at her the way a man looks at a cockroach on his shoe.

"You're a charity case, Ellyn," he spat. His voice was ice. "You don't belong here. You never did. Did you really think I could ever stomach looking at that hideous face of yours for the rest of my life?"

His words were a physical blow. Her lungs seized. The air vanished from the room.

Her fingers trembled as she touched the papers. The humiliation burned her throat like acid.

Baron let out an impatient breath. He picked up a heavy Montblanc pen from the nightstand and tossed it onto the bed. It hit the mattress with a dull thud.

"Sign it now," he warned, his jaw clenching. "Or I swear to God, I will make sure you can't even afford a cardboard box in the slums of this city."

Ellyn closed her eyes. She swallowed the massive lump of grief blocking her airway. Her heart was dead. It had stopped beating the moment he threw the papers at her.

She picked up the cold metal pen.

Her hand shook violently, but she pressed the nib against the signature line. The sharp tip nearly tore through the paper as she dragged it across the page, spelling out her name.

When the final stroke was done, she didn't hand it to him.

She gathered what little strength she had left, lifted the heavy stack of papers, and threw them hard against his chest.

Baron blinked. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his dark eyes as the papers scattered across the floor. He hadn't expected her to fight back.

Ellyn didn't wait for his reaction. She clutched the torn bedsheet to her chest and forced herself off the bed. Her legs gave out. She stumbled, her knee hitting the floor hard, but she grabbed the edge of the mattress and pulled herself up.

She didn't look at him. She dragged her aching, battered body across the room.

She reached the bathroom, stepped inside, and slammed the heavy door shut. She twisted the lock until it clicked, sealing herself away from the monster in the bedroom.