Chapter 3 Dirty

I drag myself through the front door, each step weighed down with exhaustion, bitterness, and anger that's simmering just below the surface.

The night's events play over and over in my mind, each memory igniting fresh resentment. Christopher, the man I once trusted with my life, had crossed every line and left me feeling like nothing more than a dirty pawn.

I move slowly through the darkened hallway. I reach the bedroom, my heart pounding. Maybe it's the whisky still swirling in my veins, or maybe it's the realisation that I have nothing left to lose. Today is the day.

I will leave him. Christopher Bell's over. no matter what it takes.

As I push the door open quietly, my eyes fall on the bed, and I have to suppress the urge to laugh.

There he is, sprawled out and sleeping soundly, and he's not alone. Curled up next to him, her blonde hair spilling over his shoulder, is a woman-a slim, young figure, her arm draped possessively around his waist.

I don't even blink. Of course, he'd bring her here. Of course, he'd think he could do this right under my nose, no consequences.

He used me to settle his gambling debts and then had the audacity to bring home one of his little flings with our son under the same roof.

This is the last straw. I can't keep pretending. I need to get him out of my life, once and for all.

I hold my breath and step quietly, moving across the room, careful to avoid any creaks in the floor.

This is my chance.

I need to gather what I can and get out, leave him behind in his wreck of a life. How dare he? How dare he do this to me?

I gave up my family for him.

I gave up my life for him.

But I barely make it two steps before I hear him stir. My stomach clenches as I hear him groan, his voice thick with sleep.

"You're home..." He mumbles, his eyes half-closed, and then, lazily, "Lizzy?"

I freeze, waiting, but he doesn't seem the least bit concerned, not even a hint of guilt as he sits up.

He stretches, running a hand through his hair as if I've just walked in from a normal night out.

He doesn't care that I spent the evening in the arms of another man; he doesn't even flinch at the thought of it.

I say nothing; just keep walking toward the closet; my mind is already planning my escape. But I hear him getting out of bed, his footsteps padding softly across the room until I feel his hands on my shoulders.

"Come on, baby," he says, his tone low and coaxing.

"Don't be mad. We're a team, right? Sebastian's a very important guy. You know that."

I can barely process his words; I can barely believe what I'm hearing.

I turn slowly, looking into his face, searching for the man I once loved so fiercely, the man who once promised me everything.

But he's gone.

In his place is someone cold, indifferent, twisted beyond recognition.

I shake my head, fighting back the anger and disappointment threatening to spill out.

Before I can say anything, another voice interrupts us.

"Hey."

Her voice is soft, and I see Christopher's attention shift over his shoulder.

Standing there, wrapped in a bedsheet, is the blonde woman-the one who had the nerve to look me in the eye last night and tell me how lucky I am to have him.

My hands clench into fists, the words dying on my lips.

I can't do this. I can't play this game anymore.

"I can't believe this," I manage, my voice tight.

I turn, yanking open the closet door, reaching for a bag. I'm done waiting around.

"I'm going to see Edward."

Christopher doesn't even blink. "He's not here," he says simply, as if it's no big deal.

I turn, my heart pounding as the words sink in.

My voice drops to a low, dangerous tone.

"Where is he?" I ask, barely keeping my voice steady.

"My mother took him for the weekend," he replies, his tone casual, indifferent.

I feel my legs weaken, my breath catching in my throat.

He knew. He knew I'd come back furious and that I'd want to take Edward with me.

He's thought of everything-every move, every reaction. He's already steps ahead of me.

Without another word, I storm out of the room, unable to stand the sight of him any longer, unable to believe how calculated and cruel he's become.

My steps carry me outside, away from the suffocating walls of that house, until I'm alone with nothing but my own thoughts, my anger burning like fire in my chest.

Hours pass, but the rage stays with me, gnawing away, hollowing me out. By the time evening falls, I feel exhausted and drained.

My mind wanders back to Sebastian, the mysterious man Christopher had traded me off to.

Despite the awful circumstances, despite everything I'd been through, I can't deny that Sebastian has stirred something in me.

He was different-strangely calm, with those piercing dark eyes and that serious expression that rarely gave away a thought.

He didn't laugh, didn't smile, but somehow he treated me with a kind of respect, even kindness.

For a moment, I let myself remember the night-the way he'd poured a glass of wine for me, the way he'd watched me without judgement, without expectation.

He didn't touch me. He barely spoke, yet somehow he made me feel less alone than I had in years.

I hadn't expected him to be a gentleman, but he'd surprised me, and I'd left that room with a small shred of dignity still intact.

I laugh bitterly to myself, realising how ridiculous it is that I'm even thinking of him now.

What am I doing? He's Christopher's friend, or at least some kind of business associate.

I'll probably never see him again. All I need to focus on now is finding a way out, leaving this toxic life behind me once and for all.

The evening air chills as I make my way back to the house, each step feeling like a step back into the cage I'm so desperate to escape. I know I can't stay here, not another day. I'll do whatever it takes. If I have to beg my family for help, if I have to start over from nothing-I'll do it.

But as I walk inside, my gaze drifts to Edward's toys scattered on the floor, his tiny shoes by the door. He's my world, my reason for everything. My little miracle. And Christopher knows it.

Just then, I hear a voice behind me, and I turn, my heart skipping a beat. Christopher is standing there, watching me with a smirk, a look that sends a chill down my spine.

"You did good last night," he asks, his tone mocking. "Sebastian called me. He is ready to invest in the company."

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze, my voice steady. "Is that why you handed me to him? Chris."

For a moment, he looks taken aback, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. Then he laughs, low and cold. "Oh, Lizzy," he says, shaking his head. "That's all you are good for."

"What is wrong with you?" I scream at him, devastated by his words. "What happened to you, Chris?"

I can see his eyes flaring with anger. I had hit a nerve.

"You think you can just walk away? We're a family, remember? We're in this together." He mutters as if reading my mind.

"We stopped being a family a long time ago," I spit out, the words tasting bitter and sharp.

His expression darkens.

"Maybe if you stopped losing the pregnancies,!" I can hear the anger in his voice.

I turn and walk away, leaving him standing there. I cannot face him anymore. His words are cruel, and he was right. Maybe all this is my fault. That's what the doctor had said.

Christopher has never forgiven me for losing the pregnancies. Now he reminds me every day.