Chapter 6

Ayla Warner POV:

Craig' s face was a mask of possessive rage, his grip on Ashley tightening. He said nothing more, just scooped her into his arms and stormed out of the hospital room, leaving me alone once again.

He paused at the doorway, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Ayla," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle, "I... I'll be back. I just need to make sure Ashley is okay."

I watched him go, my expression blank. My hand reached for the small, framed photo on my bedside table-a picture of Craig and me on our wedding day, laughing, full of hope. I picked it up, my fingers tracing his smiling face. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, I tore the photo in half, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

My phone, still clutched in my hand, buzzed with a notification. A private message. From Ashley. It was a video.

I opened it, my heart a leaden weight in my chest. It was a short clip, grainy, shaky. Ashley. And Craig. In a hotel room. Laughing. Kissing. His hand caressing her back. His lips on her neck. Her head thrown back in pleasure.

The video ended. My hand tightened on the phone, my knuckles white. He had done it all behind my back. The gaslighting, the manipulation, the constant defense of her. It was all a twisted game. He didn't love me. He loved her. And he was willing to destroy me, destroy our child, destroy my life's work, to protect her.

My tears finally came, hot and silent, but they were not for him. They were for the naive woman I once was, the one who believed in his lies, who clung to a phantom love. He was right. His love was replicable. And I was finally free of it.

I walked out of the hospital, my discharge papers a crumpled mess in my pocket. I went home, the mansion that had once been our dream. Now, it felt like a gilded cage. I stripped off my hospital gown, throwing it into the trash. I packed a small bag, just essentials.

Craig didn't return that night. Or the next. Or the one after that. He was with Ashley, undoubtedly, playing the devoted partner in her manufactured crisis.

My phone rang. It was Maria, my assistant. Her voice was strained. "Dr. Warner, I don't know what to do. Ashley is in the lab, throwing things around, demanding access to all the prototypes. She says Craig gave her full control. She accidentally destroyed three more bioreactors today. She tried to delete the partial data backups we managed to save, but I locked her out."

"It's alright, Maria," I said, my voice calm. "Just secure everything you can. Don't engage with her."

"But Dr. Warner, what about the research? What about you?" Maria sounded desperate.

"I'm fine, Maria. Just... hold tight. I'll sort it out."

Just as I hung up, the front door burst open. Craig stood there, a triumphant smile on his face, a bouquet of gaudy red roses in his hand. He hadn't bothered to hide his absence. He expected me to be waiting, weeping, begging for his return.

"Ayla, my love!" he boomed, striding in. "I'm back! And I have great news! Ashley is feeling much better. And she's made incredible progress on the research! She needs to present at the 'Innovators' Summit' next week. You need to arrange her presentation immediately."

My eyes narrowed. "What research, Craig? The research she stole from my dead sister? The research she destroyed when she wiped my servers? Or perhaps the research she's currently annihilating in the lab?"

He dropped the roses onto a side table, their petals scattering. His face hardened. He grabbed my arm, his grip once again bruising. "Ayla, don't be childish. This is important. You need to put aside your petty jealousy. Ashley needs your help."

I yanked my arm away. "Childish? You're the one throwing a tantrum, Craig! You're letting your mistress destroy everything I've built, everything we built! You're blind!"

Before he could respond, Ashley Riddle burst into the room, her eyes red-rimmed, her face contorted in a mask of distress. She rushed towards me, falling to her knees at my feet.

"Dr. Warner! Please! I beg you!" she wailed, clutching my legs. "Please, don't do this to my sister! Don't ruin her life!"

Craig's face went white. He immediately rushed to Ashley's side, pulling her up and cradling her. "Ashley, my love! What's wrong? What's she done to you now?" He shot me a furious glare.

Ashley pulled a crumpled photo from her pocket, holding it up with a trembling hand. It was a picture of a young woman, partially undressed, clearly distressed. "She's threatening my sister, Craig! She's going to release these photos! She says she'll ruin her life, just like I ruined hers!"

Craig's face turned to stone. He looked at me, his eyes blazing with a cold, terrifying fury. "Ayla," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you do this?"

I stared at him, my disbelief battling with a chilling sense of foreboding. "Do what, Craig? Fabricate some scandalous photos? Blackmail an innocent girl? Is that what you think of me?"

His jaw clenched. "Just answer the question, Ayla! Did you threaten Ashley's sister?"

A bitter laugh escaped me. He actually believed her. Over me. Again.

"Craig," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Do you truly think I would stoop to such a low, pathetic level? To use someone's family against them? To peddle in such cheap, disgusting tactics?"

He stared at me, his face a mask of suspicion. "I don't know what to think anymore, Ayla. You've become unrecognizable."

"Unrecognizable?" My voice was laced with venom. "I'm not the one who's unrecognizable, Craig. You are. The man I married would never believe this vile woman's lies over me. The man I married would never protect a criminal. The man I married would never let his wife be abused and destroyed by a conniving tramp!"

Ashley, still clinging to Craig, whimpered. "She's saying horrible things, Craig! She's always hated me!"

Craig's gaze, filled with a cold, righteous anger, turned to me. "That's it, Ayla. I'm done. You've crossed a line. I'm going to make you regret this." He tightened his arm around Ashley. "You're going to pay for every single thing you've done."

A deep, bone-chilling fear coursed through me. I knew that look. That was the look of a man who was about to justify unspeakable cruelty.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice trembling despite myself.

He smiled, a slow, predatory smile. "I'm going to show you what it feels like, Ayla, to be humiliated. To be exposed. To be seen as nothing more than a desperate, pathetic woman. Just like you tried to do to Ashley's sister." He snapped his fingers.

Two burly security guards immediately stepped forward, grabbing my arms.

My blood ran cold. "No! Craig, what are you doing? Let go of me!"

He ignored my pleas, his eyes cold and unwavering. I struggled, but their grip was like iron. They dragged me towards the grand staircase, away from the living room.

I saw two more men setting up tripods, attaching professional cameras. No. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

"Craig! Don't you dare!" I screamed, my voice raw. "You're a sick bastard! You're a monster!"

He watched dispassionately as I was dragged away, my pleas falling on deaf ears. Ashley, still in his arms, watched with a triumphant smirk.

They pulled me into a large, empty room, one I rarely used. The cameras were already in place, lights glaring down. Panic seized me. I thrashed, kicked, bit the arm of one of the guards. He roared in pain, but his grip didn't falter.

"Get her clothes off!" Craig's voice boomed from the doorway. He was now standing there, watching. Ashley peered over his shoulder, a look of gleeful anticipation on her face.

"No! Please! Don't!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face.

The men ripped at my clothes, tearing the fabric. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had, but it was useless. They were too many, too strong. One of them punched me in the stomach, hard. I gasped, the air knocked out of my lungs. My knees buckled.

I fell to the ground, my clothes in tatters, my body bruised and exposed. The camera flashes began, blinding me with their harsh light. Click. Click. Click.

The humiliation was unbearable. My mind screamed. This was worse than the physical pain, worse than the miscarriage. This was the ultimate violation.

A guard knelt beside me, his hand reaching for his belt, his eyes filled with a predatory glint.

No. Not this. Not ever.

A surge of adrenaline, pure, unadulterated desperation, coursed through me. I would die before I let him do this.

With a guttural cry, I fought back. I kicked, I clawed, I pushed. I saw a window, high on the wall, a desperate sliver of hope. I scrambled towards it, fueled by a primal instinct to escape, to end this nightmare.

The men cursed, trying to grab me. But I was faster, stronger, propelled by the sheer will to survive. I slammed my body against the glass, again and again. It shattered with a deafening crash.

I didn't hesitate. I threw myself through the broken window, falling into the cold night air. As I plummeted, a final image burned into my mind: Craig, holding Ashley close, his lips pressed to hers, oblivious to my desperate escape.