“You ain’t gonna do shit!” he thunders. “Not one God damn thing. I’m going to figure out a way to take that house from that cousin of yours. Even if I can’t, I’ll keep her in litigation so long that she’ll go broke and will have to sell the damn house. I’ll buy it and set it on fire!”
“Don’t talk about my cousin!” He wraps his hand around my wrist before my palm could make contact with his cheek. He squeezes it and shoves it down, so I push his chest. He doesn’t budge. “I hate you so much.”
“Oh, I know. It’s obvious, but lucky for me, I was in no danger of falling in love with a manipulator like you.”
“Yeah, I’m the manipulator. You manipulated, lied, and blackmailed me into marrying you, and you dare to be shocked that I would fight back.” I poke his chest, and the bastard flexes and grins. “And now you’re trying to abuse me, just like I knew you would.”
“For the last fucking time, it was a bribe, not blackmail. And ain’t nobody trying to abuse your lying-ass. You love throwing that word around. Keep it up.” He lowers his voice, and he looks me up and down. “And I will.”
“You’re already doing it. Financial abuse is abuse.” I give him the same look he just gave me. “And try something else. You’ll go to sleep and never wake up. I promise you that.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Financial abuse? Says the woman who just paid off a mortgage and drives a six-figure car. Do you want me to tell you how much you've spent on brunches and spa treatments lately? Do you know how much you spent on your little trip to New York for your rabid cousin?You’ve been transferring money from my account to yours like it’s an Olympic sport.” He runs the back of his hand on my cheek. “Still the skin of a snake.”
“Get your damn hand off me.” He drops his hand and takes a step away as if he can’t stand to be close to me.
“But go ahead. Tell everyone I financially abuse you. I have receipts, sweetheart.”
I grab a pillow and hit him in the middle of his retreating back. “I want a divorce!”
“We said til death, so unless you plan on killing us both, I’d shut the hell up! I wifed you when nobody else wanted the job.”
“You did what?” I ask, aghast at his statement.
“I. Wifed. You.” He points at me. “Are you deaf?” He slams the bathroom door behind him, and when I try to go in to continue the argument, the door is locked.
“Asshole!”
I haven’t seen him since he stormed out of the bathroom and out of the bedroom. I’m not sure if I felt relief or disappointment. My stomach growls, and I’m regretting throwing away every scrap of food in the house.
It’s a real problem since I have no money or car. At least that’s what he thinks, but I took the car keys to one of his fancy sports cars, and I plan on returning it with scratches and a noticeable dent. I also took all the cash out of his wallet and stole one of his credit cards.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice makes me freeze, but I don’t give him the courtesy of a response. I listen as he talks to his dog and puts food in his dish, so I make a note to get rid of the dog food too.
“I want my grandmother’s sewing machine back, along with all the material that I had before this unholy union from hell. I want my money back, too.”
“No.” He opens the cupboard and slams it so hard that the dog whimpers in fear.
“You have no right to take those things.”
“I decide what I have a right to take. And I can’t give back that ugly-ass sewing machine. I destroyed it along with everything else. Your materials, sketches, and all that shit in that sewing room are gone. Poof.” He snaps his fingers. “Just disappeared.”
I blink a few times while I absorb his words. He gives me a smug look and walks to Finch. He leans down, rubs behind her ears, and talks soothingly to her.
I grab a mug and throw it at his head with all my strength. He moves. I miss. The mug shatters and falls to the floor. Finch runs out of the room.
The man I married stands to his full height and narrows his eyes at me. I’ve never seen him so angry and so full of hate, and for the first time since I laid eyes on him, I fear him. Instead of slowly backing away, I sprint out of the kitchen, but he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me off the ground with one arm.
He runs to the living room and dumps me on the couch. I back away, but I hit the arm and have nowhere else to go. He holds both my wrists with one hand and takes off my new diamond bracelet. He tosses it to the floor like it’s garbage. He then slides his other hand around to the back of my jeans. He reaches into the back pocket and pulls out the cash and the credit card.
He drops my wrist as if it’s on fire and puts the stolen goods in his wallet. He walks away without a word, but I let out a scream, run, and jump on his back. He takes a few steps backbut manages to remain standing while I try to take him in a headlock.
He walks back to the couch as if I’m nothing more than a nuisance. He takes my arm, moves it away from his neck, and drops me on the couch for the second time this morning. He whistles, and seconds later, he walks out of the house with his mutt.
When I run back to the kitchen, I realize that he took my purse, which has my identification, phone, and the key to his car that I stole.
I let out another loud scream, but I’m determined to find another car key. I do. He keeps them all in his office, but when I attempt to open the garage door, it’s locked.
He’s trapped me in this house without food or a way out, but if he thinks he’s won, he’s in for a rude awakening.
