Prepare the Divorce and Ruin My Husband

My husband David Vanderbilt married my sister.

Not far away but in our house.

That was the first thing I saw after I tore myself out of a kidnapper’s grip and ran home barefoot, bleeding, half dead.

A year ago, everyone said I ran away with another man.They never knew I was chained to a concrete floor, counting pain instead of time.

“You keep calling his name,” the man said as he locked my chains. “Your husband will never save you.”

I did not believe him.

Until I walked into that wedding and saw him, my kidnapper, sitting among the guests. The man who taught my body fear before my mind could catch up.

“This is a wedding,” my husband said coldly when he saw me. “Whatever lie you came to tell can wait.”

Then I saw my son. Eight years old. Bruised. Kneeling on the floor like he was born to serve.

“Please,” bowing his head. “I will work harder.”

My sister smiled sweetly. “You misunderstood. We were just playing a game.”

My husband believed her. He always did.

Something inside me broke quietly.

I knelt, wrapped my arms around my son, and sent one text.

“Prepare the divorce.” Then I made one call. “I need a favor. I will destroy the Vanderbilt Group… In return, I want me and my son safe.”