Heartbreak And Wars

Aloe's POV

I knew something was wrong the moment I heard the laughter, it was coming from our matrimonial bedroom. It wasn't the warm, guarded chuckle I used to pull from Wakes on our better days either.

My fingers froze on the banister, as my pulse crawled up into my throat, pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

For a moment, I told myself I was imagining it, that maybe one of the staff was inside,or maybe Wakes was on the phone with a client. But then came the moan that ripped through every fragile excuse I'd been clinging to.

My Wakes was moaning, in his usual deep, and low moan, that particular tone he used when he wanted me. Only this time, it wasn't for me.

My legs moved before my brain could stop them. I pushed the door open, and immediately, my world stopped.

There he was; Wakes Savage, my husband standing shirtless by the bed, his hands gripping the hips of a woman I'd never seen before. She was perched on the edge in nothing but his dress shirt, her lipstick smeared across his mouth like a stain neither of them cared to hide.

I stood rooted at a spot, my eyes already teary. His head snapped toward me, those grey eyes locking on mine, I thought he would maybe hold shock or surprise, but it was filled with irritation, as if I'd just interrupted him signing a business deal.

"Aloe," he said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

What am I doing here? In my own bedroom?

The words I wanted to scream tangled in my throat. My chest felt too tight to breathe, my eyes already stinging. My gaze shifted to her, to the way she smirked like she'd just claimed a prize I'd foolishly left unattended.

I stepped further inside, my voice trembling. "Who... who is she?"

He didn't even blink. "No one you need to know."

The casual cruelty of it hit me harder than if he'd just shouted.

"No one I need to know? She's in our bed, Wakes!"

The woman slid off the mattress with a deliberate slowness that made my stomach twist. She walked past me without a glance.

When we were alone, he picked up his discarded shirt and began buttoning it like I wasn't even there.

"I told you not to come home early," he said.

My hands were shaking so hard I had to curl them into fists. "And you told me you loved me."

His laugh was short and humorless. "Stop being dramatic, Aloe. It's not like you've been much of a wife lately."

That one sentence didn't just hurt, it split something open in me. The last few months of distance, the cold dinners, the excuses, the way he barely touched me unless it was for appearances, it all clicked into brutal, perfect focus.

"I've been trying, Wakes," I whispered. "I've been trying so hard."

"Well, try harder," he said, brushing past me. His shoulder clipped mine. I stumbled backwards but caught myself, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I wanted to tell him right then. I wanted to throw the truth at him that I'm pregnant. But the words were stuck. Not because I didn't want him to know, but because I didn't trust what he'd do with that knowledge.

He stopped at the doorway. "We have an event Saturday night. Go shop for something decent. And for God's sake, fix your face before anyone sees you've been crying."

The door shut behind him, leaving silence so heavy I could hear my own breathing.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space he'd left, the sheets still wrinkled from someone else's body. The hot tears then came, sliding down my cheeks until they dripped onto my trembling hands.

I wanted to scream and smash every lamp, every glass, until there was nothing left but shards, until the room outside matched the wreckage inside me. But instead, my knees gave out. I sank to the floor, curling over as I pressed my hand against my belly.

I'd known love could hurt but I hadn't known it could feel like a trap.

Because it wasn't just my heart in danger anymore, it was the tiny heartbeat I'd only just learned about a few hours ago.

The memory of that moment came back sharp and uninvited: the sterile doctor's office, the quiet smile when she'd told me, "You're about six weeks along." I'd walked out with my hands protectively over my stomach, thinking of how I'd tell him. I'd pictured him smiling for the first time in months, maybe even holding me the way he used to.

But now... now the thought of telling him felt dangerous.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, whispering the truth into the darkness. "I can't stay here. Not like this."

But fear wrapped itself around my resolve. Leaving Wakes wasn't just walking away from a marriage, it was walking away from the only life I'd known for the past three years. He had money, power and influence. A temper that could turn cold into cruel in the space of a single heartbeat.

I thought about the first time we met, how his attention had been intoxicating. How easy it had been to mistake possession for love. How quickly I'd let him become the center of my life.

That version of me felt like a stranger now. And right now something inside me has changed, it was like that kind of feeling when a locked door starts cracking open.

I can't continue staying here, wakes do cheat but bringing them into our home, I didn't know if I would be able to bear that, how will my child be able to grow in such an environment.

I don't know where I would go if I leave here, or if I'd make it out alive. But one thing had become painfully, undeniably clear...

I would not survive more than one night in this marriage. And I will do anything... Anything at all to make that happen.

Aloe's POV

I was still sitting on the floor, lost in thought when the lights went off, signaling that it was time for bed. I was still contemplating on how to leave this loveless marriage, but no idea was coming aside going to Blake Williams, Wake's altermost rival. That I didn't even notice how late it was already.

I managed and stood up, took off the sheets and placed new ones, I didn't bother taking a shower, I just changed my clothes and moved to the bed.

I lay on the edge, facing the wall, my body tense as if even in dreams I'd have to defend myself. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of wind through the curtains kept my mind on high alert. My hand stayed pressed to my stomach most of the night, as if I could shield the baby from the poison that seemed to seep from every corner of this house.

When morning light crept through the curtains, it felt like a spotlight, exposing the mess inside me. My limbs were heavy, but I dragged myself up, slipping into a robe before heading toward the kitchen. I needed a strong and bitter coffee, just something that could keep me from crumbling before I see his cheating asshole face.

But I should have known he'd be in the kitchen, that's his favourite morning position.

Wakes sat at the counter in a perfectly brown suit, every button closed, every strand of hair in place. With his usual businessman mask. A cup of black coffee steamed beside him, and he had the morning paper spread open like nothing in the world could touch him. He didn't look up when I entered, didn't acknowledge me at all, as though I was simply part of the furniture.

I poured myself a cup, willing my hands to stay steady. The clink of the spoon against the mug felt too loud in the quiet.

Finally, without lowering the paper, he spoke. "So. You've decided to be silent now? You were loud enough last night."

My jaw tightened. "I don't know how you expect me to act after what I saw."

He folded the paper slowly, deliberately, and set it aside. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at me like a teacher addressing a misbehaving student. "I expect you to act like my wife. Not some emotional wreck who can't handle the realities of marriage."

My breath hitched. "The realities of marriage?" My voice rose before I could stop it. "You think cheating is a reality I should just accept?"

His expression didn't change, if anything, his eyes grew colder. "You're so naïve, Aloe. You think because you wear my ring, I owe you... what? Fidelity? Or undivided attention?

He scoffed, "I provide for you. I give you a roof over your head, clothes, a life people would kill for. That should be enough."

The words landed like stones, each one heavier than the last. I have suspected it for months that I was more decoration than partner but hearing it aloud still knocked the air out of me.

"You don't love me," I whispered.

He smirked faintly. "I married you. That's more than I've given anyone else."

It was so blunt, so carefully designed to wound, that for a moment my throat closed. My chest ached, but I forced my tears to stay put. I would not give him the satisfaction of watching me break.

He stood up, picking up his coffee as if the conversation bored him. "And do yourself a favor, don't start some divorce fantasy in your head. Because you wouldn't last a month without me."

The challenge in his voice wasn't empty. It was a warning.

I stayed quiet as he walked out, the echo of the front door ringing through the silence and thoughts he left behind.

When he was gone, I let out a shuddering breath and gripped the counter to keep my hands from shaking. His words replayed in my mind, but instead of scaring me into obedience, they lit a spark.

He thought I wouldn't last a month without him. He thought I couldn't survive on my own.

Well he was wrong because I can survive eternity without him, but my sub-conscious was already judging that thought.

But I ignored it and went upstairs, straight to my room and pulled out the smallest suitcase I could find. It wasn't much, just a box enough to hold clothes, essentials, and the few keepsakes I couldn't bear to leave behind. My movements were quick but careful, my ears straining for the sound of the front door in case he came back early.

Every folded dress felt like a quiet act of rebellion and every zipped compartment was a step closer to breathing freely again.

My hands lingered on the nightstand drawer. Inside was a small envelope containing the appointment slip for my next checkup. I had planned to surprise him with it... God, how stupid that sounded now. The thought of handing it to him, expecting joy, made my stomach twist. I immediately pushed the thought aside and slid it into my bag.

This wasn't just about leaving a husband. It was about saving myself and the tiny life growing inside me from a man who treated love like a business deal.

But leaving wasn't going to be simple. Wakes noticed everything. He controlled everything. And if I simply walked out, he'd track me down before I reached the end of the street.

I needed someone who could hide me. Someone with resources. Someone he couldn't easily intimidate or buy off.

And I knew exactly who that someone was.

The thought made my pulse quicken. Calling him was a risk... a massive one. The kind of risk that could change everything, not just for me, but for Wakes too. This wasn't just asking for help. This was opening a door I might never be able to close again.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone cold and heavy in my palm. My thumb hovered over the contacts list, hesitating. His name sat there like a ticking clock.

Finally, I tapped it.

The number rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered. "I was wondering if you would ever call."

My throat tightened. "I need your help."

There was a pause. Then a low chuckle that slid down my spine like a warning. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Mrs Savage."

I swallowed. "You'll keep me safe?"

His voice was calm, assured. "Safer than you've ever been with him."

My grip on the phone tightened. "When?"

"Tonight," he said. "My driver will be there at eleven. Pack light, and don't let him see you leave."

A shiver ran through me. I should have asked more questions, demanded to know the cost. But deep down, I already knew that nothing with him came free.

And something in his tone told me this wasn't just about helping me, and I just hope he doesn't ask for what I can't give in return.

Aloe's POV

The hours between morning and night felt endless.

Every tick of the clock sounded louder than usual, like a countdown marking the seconds I had left in the house that had become a prison. Every creak of the floorboards echoed like a threat, taunting me with the possibility that Wakes might return early and catch me halfway through my escape.

I kept my bag tucked under the bed, hidden in the shadows, like a secret I wasn't ready to reveal.

The room around me blurred into something unreal. I went through the motions as if nothing was wrong. But inside, my nerves were frayed raw, and my thoughts kept spiraling back to one place: tonight.

Wakes had texted earlier, his message cold and clipped.

Message;;;

Contact:MY WAKES

"Business dinner, I will be back late."

I didn't care to imagine what "business dinner" really meant because by now, I'd learned not to trust his words, just his absences. That was the only reason I'd dared set the pickup for eleven. The later it was, the fewer eyes on the street, the less chance of running into anyone who might report back to him.

By nine, I had double-checked my bag three times. Clothes for a week, nothing too flashy, just simple tops and jeans. My ID, bank cards, a small wad of cash I'd quietly saved over the past few months, and the envelope with my next appointment slip folded carefully on top.

At ten, I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone clutched tight in my hands. My eyes darted to the clock every other minute, the glowing numbers mocking my desperation. My chest felt tight, as my legs restless, the familiar ache of fear settling in my stomach. Every part of me screamed that I was about to do something I could never undo.

By ten-forty, I couldn't sit still anymore. I paced the length of the room slowly, rehearsing every detail in my head. How I'd slip past the security cameras, how I'd avoid the neighbors, how I'd keep my face calm and unreadable when I passed the driver waiting in the dark outside.

At ten-fifty-five, my phone buzzed sharply against the wooden floor.

Message;;;

Contact: RESCUE TEAM

Driver's outside. Black SUV, don't keep him waiting.

Don't ask me why I saved his contact as Rescue team, because you really don't know who wakes is, that man is a monster.

Immediately after I finished reading the text, my throat went dry. My hand went to my belly automatically, as if I could shield the fragile life inside me from the storm I was stepping into.

It's now or never, I told myself, the words brittle but steady.

The house felt impossibly quiet as I moved down the stairs, my shoes in my hand so they wouldn't click against the marble floor. Every shadow seemed to stretch and twist into something threatening like Wakes could be behind the curtains, ready to pull me back into the cage.

I reached the front door and froze. My fingers hovered over the lock, heart pounding so hard I was sure it would give me away.

Go. Before you lose the nerve, I echoed to myself. I slipped out, closing the door behind me with slow, and quiet moves, as if quiet could erase the fact that I was leaving for good.

The street was empty except for the black SUV parked just a pool down, its engine humming low in the stillness. The tinted window on the passenger side rolled down a fraction, and a man's voice called softly, "Mrs. Savage?"

My stomach twisted at the sound of my married name. I nodded, swallowing hard, and hurried over.

The driver stepped out, a tall man in a dark jacket and cap pulled low. His face was mostly hidden in shadow, but his eyes flicked over me with quick, assessing precision, like he was trained to notice every detail.

"Bag," he said simply, reaching for it.

I hesitated. "I can carry it."

He didn't argue. Instead, he opened the back door for me. I slid inside, and the door shut behind me with a quiet, final thud that made my heart leap.

The SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the window as we moved farther and farther from everything I'd known.

"Are you nervous?" the driver asked after a long silence.

I startled slightly, turning toward him. "Wouldn't you be?"

His mouth quivered into the faintest hint of a smile. "He's not going to catch you tonight. I made sure of that."

Something about the confidence in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, part relief, part warning.

"You sound like you've been planning this," I said carefully, eyes still fixed on the dark streets.

"Not me," he replied, "but the man you're going to? Let's just say he's been waiting for an opportunity. And now... he has it."

"Why would he care what happens to me?"

The driver's gaze moved to me in the rearview mirror. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something sharp in them, like a blade hidden beneath calm. "Because helping you hurts Wakes Savage. And that's reason enough."

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"You'll see when we get there," he said.

I didn't like vague answers, but I wasn't in any position to argue. I pressed my back into the seat, trying to slow my breathing. Every turn we took felt like another thread snapping from the life I'd been bound to.

After twenty minutes, the city lights faded behind us.

Suddenly, the driver's phone buzzed. He answered without hesitation.

"She's with me," he said simply.

A deep male voice came through, low and deliberate. "Good. I'll be waiting."

The line went dead before I could react.

I stared at the back of the driver's head, my heart thudding. "Was that...?"

"Not yet," he said, cutting me off. "You'll meet him soon enough." And silence filled the rest of the drive.

When we finally slowed, the headlights swept over a gated entrance. The driver leaned out to punch in a code, and the heavy iron gates swung open with a grinding creak.

Beyond them, a long driveway curved toward a building that looked more like an apartment than a mansion. But it is impossible to see inside without stepping past the gates.

The SUV rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. The driver got out, came around, and opened my door. He extended a hand to help me out.

I took it hesitantly, my eyes tilting nervously to the door just ahead. Somewhere behind it was the man I'd called for help, my husband's sworn enemy. The man who, according to the driver, had been waiting for this moment.

"Go on," the driver said, nodding toward the door. "He's inside."

I adjusted my grip on my bag, took a deep breath, and stepped toward the door, but It opened before I could knock.