THE VENGEFUL EX-WIFE

chapter 5

Jenny sat drooped on the hard steel bench, her back paining from the cold wall. She goggled blankly at the cracked floor, her mind churning with a storm of wrathfulness, treason, and fear.

Her husband, Michael, the man she had loved with all her heart, had accused her of stealing the missing documents, documents worth a million dollars. The police had bought his story hook, line, and sinker, treating her like a toughened felon despite her adamant denials. They had locked her up as if she were a wild beast, throwing her into this cell without a second thought.

"You are a real piece of work, aren't you?" The officer, a hulking man with a face like a bulldog, leaned against the cell door, his arms crossed, a sneer playing on his lips. "Got your hubby all rankled up, huh? Took his money? Well, you are not going anywhere. You are gonna stay right here and meditate about what you did."

His words were laced with venom, and Jenny's heart sank further. They were right. Her life was falling piecemeal, bit by bit, and she had no one to condemn but herself. Except, she knew the truth. Michael, dazed by wrathfulness and covetousness, had been manipulated by his family mother, Rebecca, and sister Lisa. They were the ones who had stolen the documents, framing Jenny in the process.

"It's not true," Jenny argued, her voice coarse from dehydration. "They are the ones who did it! My husband's family are the ones who are behind this. You need to hear to me!"

The officer laughed, a cruel, grating sound that echoed in the confined cell. "Oh, you are a real good actress, youngster. But your act does not wash with me. You are in for a long night. perhaps you will be lucky and someone will bail you out. But also again, perhaps not."

He slammed the door shut, the loud whang resonating through the cell, leaving Jenny alone with her thoughts. The only thing she could think about was her father, Bernard Lambert, a man who had always been distant and cold, but who, deep down, loved her. She had left him, had run away from the wealth of her family life to marry Michael, a man she had believed loved her for who she was.

But Michael had been a mistake, his love a facade, a mask to hide his selfish intentions. She had fallen for his charm, his pledges of a simple life, a life free from the suffocating prospects of her family. Now, she was paying the price for her stubbornness.

"Please, just let me make a phone call!" Jenny called, her voice strained, despair clawing at her throat. "I need to call my father, I need to talk to him!"

The officer simply shook his head, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "No phone calls. Not until you've had a good long think about what you've done." He said.

The hours crawled by, each one an eternity. The silence in the cell was blaring, broken only by the occasional muffled heartbreaks from the other inhabitants. Jenny's mind contended each allowed a sharp, painful chip in her heart. She had been so wrong about Michael, so incredibly wrong. His family, whom she had tried to befriend, had shown their true colors, and she had been too eyeless to see it.

She felt a surge of nausea, an admixture of fear and prostration. The thought of spending the night in the cell was unsupportable. She could not stand the thought of being locked up, alone, facing the unknown.

"Please." she prayed again, despair edging into her voice. "Just one call. I need to talk to someone."

The officer scoffed, his face twisted in a snicker. "You've got no one to call. You are alone." He turned to leave, his steps echoing down the hallway.

That was it. There was no one. No one to help her. Her father would be furious. He'd noway approved of Michael, had always been cautious of him. And now, he'd see her as the extravagant daughter who had come home, not in triumph, but in defeat.

With a swell of despair, Jenny dropped back onto the hard bench. It was then, the heavy door creaked open, and a tall figure filled the doorway. He was dressed in an acclimatized black suit. He carried himself with an air of quiet authority, his piercing blue eyes surveying the cell.

Jenny felt a swell of hope. Could it be? Could this be her deliverance?

"Mr. Murdoch." the officer said, his voice suddenly subdued. He sounded nearly nervous.

"Alexi Murdock." the newcomer nodded, his voice smooth and low. "I am here to see Jenny Lambert."

"Jenny? Are you sure about that? We are not letting anyone in here." The officer's tone was uncertain, his confidence shortly shaken.

"I am not a counsel." Murdoch replied, a slight smile playing on his lips."I am here to take her home." He said.

"Home? This is a police station, not a hostel." the officer snapped. "You can not just take someone out of here. There is a process, you understand?"

"You'd best let me go through that process," Murdoch stated, his voice unwavering. He stepped into the cell, his eyes unwavering. The officer faltered, his eyes fluttering to the door, also back to Murdoch. He'd noway encountered anyone like him before. This man exuded an air of power that was both intimidating and charming.

"Take it easy." the officer said, his voice now soft. "Just trying to do my job here." He stepped back, his shoulders drooped and opened the cell door.

Jenny walked out, her heart pounding with a mixture of intoxication and relief. Alexi Murdoch extended a hand, his touch unexpectedly warm. He led her through the hallway, past the stupefied faces of officers who watched in silence. He did not speak, his eyes fixed ahead, his way purposeful.

He steered her into a black limousine that awaited outdoors.

As the limo drove away from the police station, Jenny turned to Murdoch, her voice pulsing with emotion. "How did you know? How did you get here?"

"Your father called me," Murdoch replied, his voice a soothing attar to her rasped nerves. "Heard you were in trouble. He wanted me to come and get you."

"But my father hates me. He no way liked Michael, he has always despised my choice."

Murdoch's eyes met hers, his eyes filled with understanding. "He does not detest you, Jenny. He loves you. That is why he called me. He knows you need someone to look after you."

Their car arrived at a huge mansion, its grand facade illuminated by a thousand lights. It was her father's house.

Murdoch helped her out of the car, his hand resting smoothly on her back. He stood beside her as she approached the assessing entrance, the heavy oak door creaking open to reveal the extensive hall. Her father stood in the center of the room, his face drawn and pale, his eyes piercing.

"Jenny," he said. "What have you done?"

Jenny's throat tensed. She had hoped for a warm grasp, for a word of comfort. rather, all she entered was his cold disapprobation.

"Dad." she started, her voice slightly audible. "I need to explain."

"Explain?" He scoffed, his shoulders rising, his body shaking with a fit of coughing. "There is nothing to explain. You've brought shame upon this family. You've betrayed my trust."

"But Dad, I am not a thief." Her voice cracked, and she choked back a sob. "It's Michael and his family; they are the ones who stole those documents. They are the ones who framed me!"

"Do not talk about Michael." her father said, his voice laced with disdain. "He is a snake, a serpent. From the moment you got involved with him, I knew he was in trouble. But you were so dazed by your love that you wouldn't hear me."

"I am sorry, Dad." Jenny apologized, her tears now falling freely down her cheeks. "I know I made a mistake. I was so hopeless to escape, to have my own life, that I made a terrible choice. But I am here now. I am home. I just need you to understand."

Her mother, Darcy a woman whose face bore the marks of times of solicitude and anxiety, stepped forward, her arms outstretched towards Jenny.

"Bernard, please," she begged, her voice choked with emotion. "She's our daughter. We've to forgive her. We can not abandon her now."

Bernard goggled at her, his face a mask of clashing feelings, wrathfulness, and love warring for dominance. He turned to Jenny, his eyes filled with a mixture of despair and a flicker of care.

"You've brought nothing but trouble," he said, his voice softened, a trace of weariness lacing his words. "But you are still my blood. And I can not let you face this alone." He reached out, his hand pulsing as he touched her cheeks. "You are home now, Jenny. Stay here."

Jenny's heart swelled with relief. She had made a terrible mistake, but her father had forgiven her. She was back where she belonged, in the heart of the family she had so desperately tried to escape.

She was ready to take her place at the head of the family and serve out revenge on those who had mistreated her…