Ex Husband, Prepare To Burn

Elara's POV

Where the fuck is he?

I muttered to myself as I searched the Grand Hall for Ian, my diamond stilettos clicking sharply against the marble floor. Tonight was supposed to be special-our third anniversary and my twenty-fifth birthday. Ian had promised to make it a night I'd never forget.

Well, he kept that promise. Just not in the way I expected.

Guests laughed and clinked their glasses under the glittering chandelier. My eyes darted across the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of my husband-the man I had built my whole damn life around. The same man I once swore I'd love until my last breath.

Earlier that evening, Ian had said, "Go on, babe. I'll catch up shortly. Need to close my butterfly deal with Mr. Yan. His flight leaves tonight, and I can't afford to lose a billion-dollar investment."

He'd brushed invisible dust off his lapel, kissed my cheek half-heartedly, and climbed into his car, leaving me standing there with confusion burning in my chest.

Now, surrounded by laughter and music, I felt like a fool-waiting for a man who always had something more important than me.

Before I could move, a hand like a claw grabbed my arm and yanked me aside. The grip was so tight it sent a sting up my wrist.

"What the hell-?" I hissed, stumbling.

The woman dragged me through the crowd. A few people glanced our way but quickly looked off. No one dared to stop her.

Victoria Vance. Ian's older sister. The devil in designer heels.

The door to the restroom slammed behind us. Victoria's perfume hit me first-sharp, suffocating, expensive. She looked me up and down, her lips curling.

"Where's my brother, you psycho bitch?" she spat. "What is this look? A party for clowns? God, you look like you're trying too hard. It's embarrassing, Elara. Are you not tired of humiliating this family?"

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to cry. There was no winning with Victoria. Nothing I said ever mattered.

"He's going to-" I started, but she cut me off.

"Only heaven knows what Ian saw in you before marrying you. You've always been a useless housewife in apron... a house pet. Pathetic. A charity case in lipstick"

With a flip of her hair, she turned and left, leaving the air heavy with poison and the scent of her perfume.

The tears came before I could stop them. I bit them back, muffling the sound against my sleeve, my breath shaking. My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger-mascara smeared, smile trembling.

Before I could leave, two women entered the restroom, chatting as if the universe hadn't just cracked open in front of me.

"What kind of man leaves his wife alone on their anniversary?" one said.

"The kind who's probably between someone else's legs right now," the other replied, and they laughed.

Their laughter sliced through me like glass. I pressed my palms against the sink and took a shaky breath. Don't cry. Not here. Not now.

When I walked back into the ballroom, my heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear the music. The MC's voice cut through the noise.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mrs. Elara Vance to the stage! Mr. Vance has sent her a special anniversary gift!"

My stomach twisted. Sent me? Why didn't he just show up himself?

I plastered on my best practiced smile and walked toward the stage, the crowd's applause crashing over me like waves. Every step felt heavier.

As I stood there under the bright lights, I scanned the crowd-no Ian. No Camila either, my so-called best friend. Strange. Where the hell was she?

A woman in black approached me, holding an envelope and a pen drive. "Mrs. Vance, Mr. Vance wanted you to have this."

I smiled, relief flooding me for a moment. Maybe Ian had planned some kind of surprise. Maybe I'd been overthinking.

I handed the pen drive to the technician, who plugged it into the projector. The lights dimmed as a video began to play.

And then my world ended.

"This," Ian's voice filled the hall, cold and smooth, "is my anniversary gift to my soon-to-be ex-wife. I finally free you from our miserable marriage. It had no future from the start. I want a divorce, Elara Rhodes. In that envelope are the papers. Sign them and deliver them to my doorstep."

The crowd gasped. Flashes exploded as reporters raised their cameras, capturing every second of my humiliation.

My fingers trembled as I opened the envelope. His signature was right there, bold and final.

Tears blurred my vision.

I had given everything-everything-to this man.

And still, I wasn't enough.

Not beautiful enough.

Not good enough.

Never enough.

Across the hall, Victoria stood with her arms crossed, a cruel smile curving her lips. I could almost hear her whisper, Worthless. You finally know your place.

I couldn't breathe.

I ran off the stage as the reporters swarmed me.

"Mrs. Vance, is your husband having an affair?"

"Mrs. Vance, will you fight for him or sign the divorce?"

Each question hit like a punch. My vision spun. The room tilted. The air disappeared from my lungs. My heart was screaming, my body numb.

I pushed through the crowd, barely seeing anything but the exit sign glowing red. I stumbled into the parking lot, my chest tight, my fingers shaking as I pulled out my phone.

I called Ian.

Once. Twice.

Thirty times.

Each call went to voicemail.

Then came the automated message: This number is unreachable. Please try again later.

I stared at my phone through the blur of tears. All those late nights, the missed calls, the excuses-they weren't questions anymore. They were answers I'd refused to see.

I got into my car, my hands trembling so badly the keys slipped twice before I started the ignition. My vision was fogged with tears, my throat raw from holding back sobs.

As the city lights blurred past the windshield, the pain in my chest tightened until it felt like it might crush me.

The night he came home and refused to touch me.

The smile he gave to someone else's text.

The way he called me paranoid.

Every moment came flooding back, each one slicing deeper than the last.

And still, even after everything, I whispered his name into the silence.

"Ian..."

But there was no answer.

Just the sound of my own breaking heart.

Elara's POV

The streetlight above me flickered, throwing broken shadows across the driveway as I stood there, gripping the divorce papers like they were the only thing keeping me from falling apart. My hands were shaking so badly the pages rustled in the night air.

I don't even remember the drive home. Just headlights and rain on the windshield and my reflection staring back at me - a woman who'd lost everything in one evening.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and unlocked the front door. My heels clicked faintly on the marble floor, echoing through the too-quiet house.

Karen, our housekeeper, appeared in the hallway, towel in hand, eyes wide.

"Ma'am... you're home early."

Her voice trembled. The towel twisted in her wrinkled fingers like she was trying to strangle the truth before it escaped.

"Why do you look surprised?" I asked, my voice hoarse from crying in the car for hours. It sounded foreign, brittle.

"I just didn't expect you," she stammered, glancing toward the staircase. A flash of panic crossed her face, gone as quickly as it came.

My stomach turned. "Who's in the house, Karen? Is Ian home?"

"Maybe you should go back out, Doña," she whispered. "He'll be back soon, I'm sure."

Her words died under a sound that didn't belong here - a soft, breathy moan that floated down the stairs. Then another, moan, filled with pleasure, followed by the faint creak of a bedframe.

My bedframe.

The world tilted. For a second, everything went silent except for the pounding in my chest.

Karen's eyes filled with tears. "Please, Doña, don't-"

But I was already moving. My legs didn't feel like my own as I climbed the stairs, each step echoing in my skull. The closer I got, the clearer the sounds became - laughter, murmured words, the rhythm of betrayal.

At the top of the staircase, my heart stopped.

The bedroom door was half-closed. I pushed it open with a hand that barely worked.

And then my world shattered.

The bed - our bed - looked like a storm had hit it. Sheets tangled, pillows on the floor, air thick with sweat and perfume that wasn't mine.

Camila.

Her.

The woman I had once called my sister in everything but blood. My best friend. My bridesmaid. My confidante. The woman I'd trusted with my husband's business, his life - my life. She was there, in my fucking bed, with my fucking husband, moaning his name as Ian enjoyed it. I didn't scream, didn't move, just... watched in silence. Rooted to the spot as tears stood in my eyes. Ian didn't see me. He didn't stop. He grunted Camila's name and came inside him - something he hadn't tried with me yet. And that... that was what broke me. A sound escaped my throat, not a scream, not a sob just a pure whimper of shattered devastation. They froze then Ian turned toward me slowly, lips glistening, eyes full of smug satisfaction. He didn't flinch. He didn't even cover himself properly. He just smiled - lazy, knowing, cruel.

Camila looked up next. And in that instant, something inside me broke so quietly I could almost hear it crack.

She didn't panic. She didn't look ashamed. She just... stared.

"Oh," Ian said flatly. "You're home."

That's all.

Camila tilted her head, licking her lips, pretending modesty by pulling the sheet over her chest, though the smirk never left her face. "Guess the party ended early," she murmured.

My throat burned. I forced myself to breathe, to stand tall even as my knees threatened to give out.

I stepped closer, throwing the divorce papers at him. They hit his chest and slid to the floor. "Is this what you wanted, Ian? To humiliate me twice in one night?"

He rose from the bed, calm, collected - like a man leaving a meeting, not a marriage.

"Our marriage was a mistake," he said. "I only went through with it because of my grandmother. I never wanted you, Elara."

The words hit harder than any slap.

"Would you love me if you were me?" he asked, voice dripping with disdain.

Something in me snapped. "You used me, Ian. For your image. For convenience. As a sex material , someone to satisfy your sexual desires. And now you're standing there acting like I'm the problem?"

He smirked. "The truth is, you were never enough. Not in this house, not in my bed, not anywhere. What kind of woman always want to be on top of a man when it comes to having sex . Your position sucks always, Elara,but for Camila... She's the best, just perfect for a man like me." He looked back at Camila,whose grin widened. She blew him a playful kiss, and he caught it with a smirk. My blood boiled so hard I thought I might explode.

Camila slid out of the bed, lazy and proud, draping herself against him. She kissed him, slow and deliberate, her eyes locked on mine the whole time - a challenge, a victory.

"I guess you finally see who he really wants," she whispered, tracing a finger down his chest. "Maybe now you'll stop pretending you ever mattered."

My hands clenched at my sides. Every breath felt like glass cutting through my lungs. "Very soon, I'll be the next Mrs Vance," she purred. "The only woman who knows what he really wants." She nodded towards a small suitcase by the dresser. "I even packed a few things you'll need on your way out." "So all you could do with your life is steal someone else's used husband?" I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Camila's eyes flared. "How dare you, bitch!" she hissed, raising her hand to slap me-

-but Ian grabbed her wrist, pulled her back... and slapped me instead, hard, and my head crashed against the wall. Warm blood trickled down, but he didn't even flinch-he didn't care that I was hurt.

Tears blurred my sight.

"You'll regret this," I said quietly, voice shaking but full of something close to steel.

Ian laughed, stepping closer until I could smell her perfume on his skin. "My grandmother isn't here to protect you now. Get out before I lose my temper."

His fingers dug into my arm, hard enough to leave marks. He shoved me back.

I stumbled but didn't fall. Not this time.

Karen was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, tears in her eyes, whispering my name. I walked past her, out the door, suitcase in hand.

The night air hit my face, cold and merciless.

Behind me, laughter echoed faintly from the window upstairs - her laughter.

And that was the moment I promised myself:

They would both pay.

Elara's POV

My fingers trembled so hard I could barely unlock my phone. One deep breath. One last ounce of courage. Then I hit send - the recording, Ian's confession, every single shred of betrayal he had thrown at me. I attached it all with a note that burned like poison on my tongue.

> "Let's see how calm you'll stay when the world knows the truth, Ian."

A single tear slid down my cheek as the message whooshed away. My world was already in ruins, but at least this... this was my strike back. Let him feel the helplessness he made me live through.

Just as I lowered the phone, another message came in.

> "She is 3 weeks pregnant."

The words blurred.

Pregnant.

For a heartbeat, my body froze. Then it hit me like a tidal wave. I was carrying Ian's child - the same man who had humiliated me in front of the world, who tossed me aside like I was nothing. A bitter laugh tore from my throat, cracked and hollow. Was this irony or punishment? I didn't even know anymore.

The wind was cold against my skin as I wandered aimlessly through the dark street. Lost. Numb. Until the blinding glare of headlights made me stop.

Before I could move, a van skidded to a halt beside me.

A hand clamped over my mouth, rough and merciless. The sharp, chemical scent of chloroform filled my nose.

I kicked. I struggled. I screamed into that hand until the world started spinning.

Then everything went black.

*******

When I woke, the air was freezing. My head throbbed, my wrists burned. I blinked into dim light, and the steady sway beneath me told me exactly where I was.

A ship.

The ropes cut into my skin. Panic clawed its way up my chest.

And then I saw him.

"Finn?" My voice cracked as I turned.

My brother was tied to a post beside me, blood dried on his cheek. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice.

"Elara?" he croaked. "Where... where are we?"

Before I could answer, one of the men's phones rang. The kidnapper put it on speaker.

"Hello, boss," he said.

A deep, familiar female voice replied - one I would never forget.

> "Is everything going as planned?"

"Yes, boss."

> "Good. Get rid of them. Make it look like an accident."

The man nodded. "Understood, Miss Camila's orders will be carried out."

Camila.

That name sliced through me like a blade.

Of course. Who else would it be?

But then, a darker thought slithered into my mind. Camila couldn't do this alone - not at this level.

Unless Ian helped her.

He had the power, the reach... and the motive. He'd said once he wished I'd just disappear.

So this was how.

"You monsters!" I screamed, thrashing against the ropes. "Why are you doing this? Who sent you?"

The man closest to me laughed. "Don't waste your breath, sweetheart. Death's easier when you stop fighting."

He pressed a gun against my forehead, his grin wicked. "But don't worry, we're letting the sea do the dirty work."

The others laughed like it was a game.

Then the ship lurched violently - a deafening crash followed. Cold seawater surged in through the cracks.

"The hull's breaking!" someone shouted.

The water was rising fast.

"Finn!" I cried. "We have to get out!"

He managed to slip his hands free and quickly untied me. "There!" I pointed toward a small speedboat bobbing beside the ship.

We ran for it, slipping and sliding across the drenched deck. But just as Finn reached the edge, one of the men grabbed his leg, dragging him backward.

"Go, Elara!" he shouted. "Go now!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

Gunshots exploded.

I froze. The world tilted. Then - silence.

"Finn!" I screamed.

I dove into the sea as the ship began to sink, waves swallowing everything. I searched through the icy water, calling his name again and again.

Nothing.

Only his blood spreading across the dark water.

I screamed until my throat tore, until my body was too cold to move. But somehow, I forced myself to keep swimming. I had to live.

If not for me - for Finn.

My body trembled violently as I dragged myself onto a reef. Saltwater stung my eyes, my lungs burned. But I didn't close my eyes.

Not yet.

Not until Ian and Camila paid for what they'd done.

*******

"Ah-no!"

I bolted upright, gasping, drenched in sweat. Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, but the nightmare clung to me like a shadow.

"Mummy!"

Three familiar voices pulled me back to life.

Claire, Emily, and Noah scrambled onto the bed, their little faces full of worry.

"Mummy, you're sweating!" Claire said softly, touching my cheek.

"I just did some yoga, darling," I lied with a shaky smile.

Noah frowned. "Yoga doesn't make people cry."

Emily crossed her arms. "You always tell us lying is bad, Mummy."

I exhaled, defeated. Their innocence broke through every wall I'd built.

Claire's tone softened. "You dreamed about Uncle Finn again, didn't you?"

I looked at their bright eyes - my beautiful children. My reason for surviving. The light that pulled me back from the darkness.

"I'm fine," I whispered, brushing their hair. "I just... miss him, that's all."

Noah climbed closer, gripping my hands. "Then we'll miss him together."

My throat tightened. I smiled through the ache and hugged them tightly.

They didn't know the full story. Not yet.

But someday, they would.

And when that day came, Ian Vance and Camila would regret ever crossing my path.

They thought they buried Elara Rhodes that night.

But all they did was awaken the woman who would destroy them both.