Chapter 5
1095 Words
Rachel’s pov
I'd walked for hours before finally finding a main road, then caught a bus with change I'd found in my sweater pocket.
I didn't have my keys. They'd been in my purse at the hospital, along with everything else. I rang the doorbell and one of the housekeepers answered, her eyes widening when she saw me.
"Mrs. Ashford! We didn't know you were—are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I lied. "I lost my keys."
She stepped aside and I walked into the living room.
"Rachel."
The voice made me stop cold.
Sabrina sat in the formal living room, perched on a white leather sofa. She looked perfect as always, hair styled in a sleek bob, wearing a cream Valentino suit, pearls at her throat. Her expression was cold as she set down her teacup.
"Mrs. Ashford," I said quietly. I'd never been able to call her "mother."
"Come here." It wasn't a request.
I walked into the living room, my legs still shaky. I didn't sit. She hadn't invited me to.
"I want to know," She sneered. "why you deliberately pushed Camilla down those stairs."
My hands clenched at my sides. "I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me." She stood up, her heels clicking against the marble. "Vincent's assistant saw everything. Camilla almost died. She lost Wyatt's baby, the last piece of my eldest son that remained in this world."
"I didn't push her," I repeated, my voice steady despite the exhaustion pulling at me. "She fell. I don't know why, but I didn't touch her."
"Of course you'd say that. You've always been jealous of her, haven't you?”
"I married your son," I said quietly. "I gave up everything for him. Why would I—"
"You married into money you didn't deserve." Sabrina cut me off. "Vincent made a mistake bringing someone like you into this family." She stepped closer, “You were just a pale imitation of what Vincent really wanted."
My knees weakened but I kept my face blank.
"This is your warning, Rachel." She pointed a finger at me, "Stay away from Camilla and don't cause any more trouble. Because if you do, I'll have you thrown out of this family so fast you won't know what hit you. You'll leave with nothing. Do you understand?"
For three months, I'd tried to please this woman. Tried to be the daughter-in-law she wanted. Learned which fork to use at formal dinners, which designers she preferred, how to smile and nod and be invisible when necessary.
I was done trying.
"Don't bother," I said, and I was surprised by how calm my voice sounded. "Since no one in this family believes me, I'll leave on my own."
Her eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected that.
"Rachel—"
But I was already walking away, heading for the stairs. My legs felt like lead, and my whole body ached, but I forced myself to keep moving.
I heard Sabrina call after me, something about being dramatic, but I didn't stop.
My room was at the end of the hallway. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, finally letting myself breathe.
I didn't have my phone, the kidnappers had kept it. I used the landline on the nightstand instead, dialing the number I'd memorized months ago but never thought I'd actually use.
"Morby and Associates," a crisp voice answered.
"I need to speak with Robert Morby," I said. "Tell him it's Rachel Ashford."
A pause. "One moment, please."
The hold music was classical. I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands shaking now that I'd stopped moving.
"Mrs. Ashford." Robert’s voice came through, "This is unexpected. How can I help you?"
I'd met him at a charity gala two months ago. He'd given me his card, told me to call if I ever needed anything. At the time, I'd thought it was just politeness.
Now, I was grateful for it.
"I need you to draft a divorce agreement," I said. The words felt surreal coming out of my mouth. "As soon as possible."
Another pause, longer this time. "I see. Are you certain about this, Mrs. Ashford?"
"Yes." I'd never been more certain of anything. "I want it ready by tomorrow. I don't want anything from him."
"That's not advisable. You're entitled to—"
"I don't care what I'm entitled to." My voice cracked slightly. "I just want to be free of this family. Can you do that?"
"Of course." His tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. "I'll have the documents ready by noon tomorrow. Where should I send them?"
I gave him the address of the mansion, then hung up.
It was done.
I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Everything hurt.
But tomorrow, I'd be one step closer to freedom.
I must have fallen asleep, because I didn't hear the door open.
Vincent’s pov
I'd been at the hospital for a day and a night, making sure Camilla was stable.
She'd cried in my arms when she heard she lost the baby, and I'd held her.
Now, driving back to the mansion in my Bentley, exhaustion pulled at me. I hadn't slept or eating much. Camilla had needed me, and I'd stayed.
But guilt gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.
Rachel.
I'd left her standing in the courtyard in the rain. I'd been so focused on Camilla that I hadn't thought about my wife at all.
The woman who'd recently become so jealous, so vindictive. Who'd pushed Camilla down the stairs and caused all of this.
I didn't understand it. Rachel had always been so understanding, so quiet. When had she changed? When had she started targeting Camilla?
I needed to talk to her and make her understand that Camilla wasn't a threat, that we could all coexist peacefully in this family. Rachel was my wife, after all.
The mansion was quiet when I entered. I handed my keys to the valet, loosened my tie, and headed upstairs.
Our bedroom door was closed. I opened it quietly, not wanting to wake her if she was sleeping.
Rachel was on the bed, lying on her side, still fully dressed. Her face was pale, her brow furrowed even in sleep. She looked like she was in pain.
I stood there in the doorway, watching her.
Had I gone too far? Making her stand in the courtyard as punishment, leaving her there in the rain?
For just a moment, I wondered if I had gone too far with the punishment.
- Writer
