Betrayed
1956 Words
The words coming out of Douglas's mouth felt like a hammer smashing Giselle's chest.
"You weren't with me last night."
Her eyes widened, her lips parting, but no sound came. No. Impossible.
Her heart beat so loudly she could barely hear the whispers that erupted among the family members standing at the door.
Sylvia's scoff sliced through the tension. "Oh, please. Don't tell me you're going to act innocent, Giselle. Just because you're barren doesn't mean you can spread your legs for any man who looks at you!" She sneered, voice sharp enough to draw blood. "You're a dog in heat, nothing more."
"NO!" Giselle's hoarse cry echoed through the suite. She clutched the duvet tighter to her chest, her knuckles white, her face blotchy with tears. "I didn't! I would never-"
But Douglas's rage was volcanic. His palm cracked against her cheek with such force her head snapped to the side. Pain exploded across her face, leaving her stunned, her ears ringing. "Not another word from you."
Her stepmother, Vivienne, draped elegantly in a wine-colored dress, merely swirled her glass lazily, eyes glinting cold. She sipped without a flicker of concern. "It is expected. After all, her mother was a w***e too. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
Giselle's body went cold. Her own stepmother... always ready with venom, always cutting her down.
Douglas sneered, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You want proof? Look."
He shoved the screen in front of her face. A video began to play: her body, writhing on a bed, lips swollen, moans filling the room. The camera angle was cruel, deliberate.
Giselle's blood drained from her face. Her throat closed. "No... no, that's not me-" She shook her head violently, trying to look away.
But then, the man in the video reached out. His hand gripped the white sheets right next to her head.
Giselle's breath hitched. On the man's pinky finger sat a heavy, obsidian signet ring. The dark stone caught the light for a split second, a cold, sharp-edged crest she had never seen before. It wasn't Douglas's hand. Douglas never wore rings.
"You took me to the room, Douglas!" She screamed, her voice cracking as she pointed at the screen. "Look at the hand! That's not your ring! Who is that?!"
Another sharp slap silenced her. Her head slammed back against the headboard, blood trickling from her nose.
Douglas's voice dripped with venom. "Blind b***h. If that wasn't you, then who the hell is this? Me?"
He swiped to another clip and this one mercilessly clear, the camera angled directly on her face, her drunken gaze glassy, lips parting as she called out his name.
"Douglas..." her recorded voice slurred from the phone.
"No..." Giselle whispered, her body trembling. "I... I thought it was you. I swear, Douglas, I thought it was you! I would never cheat on you. Please! You have to believe me!"
"It doesn't matter who you thought it was. The camera doesn't lie, and the world will only see a cheating wife."
Douglas's lip curled. He tossed the phone aside and reached into his coat. Sylvia stepped forward, a snake with her prize. She handed him a folder. Her smile was triumphant.
Divorce papers.
And a deed.
Giselle stared at the documents as Douglas dropped them onto the bed. Her mind snagged on the second one, refusing to move past it.
"My mother's ...?" Her voice trembled. "Why is my inheritance here?"
Douglas's lips curled. "Your mother's inheritance. Your family's estate. Sign it over."
Confusion warred with fear. "Douglas, I don't understand. Why would you-"
"Sign," he cut in, cold and precise. "Or I upload every second of those videos. Let the world see what kind of w***e my wife is."
The room spun.
"No!" Giselle screamed, clutching the duvet as if it could anchor her. "Please-please don't do this. I love you! I didn't cheat. I don't even know how it happened last night, but I swear... I thought it was you."
"Sign it!" Douglas roared.
Any lingering questions dissolved under the weight of terror. She crawled toward him, tears blinding her, blood dripping from her nose. "Please. Don't divorce me. Don't take everything. You know me. You know I would never-"
His boot slammed into her chest. She crashed back, the air ripped from her lungs.
"You barren b***h," he spat, towering over her. "Even if you hadn't spread your legs, I'm sick of you. Sick of waiting for a child that will never come. What use are you to me?"
The words cut deeper than any slap. Her soul cracked under the weight of them. Barren. He said it as if it was filth dripping from his tongue.
Her tears smeared across her bruised cheeks as she whimpered, "Douglas... please..."
"Sign it," he thundered again, "or I swear I'll ruin you."
Shaking, broken, she reached for the pen. Her hand trembled so badly she could barely write. The letters of her name bled into a blur of ink as her tears fell on the paper.
Douglas snatched the file the second the last stroke was done. He smiled, a twisted, satisfied curl. "Good. You're nothing to me now. And you'll get not a single dime." He tossed the pen aside. "Go collect your things. You've got until sundown to get out of my house."
Sylvia's hand slid into the crook of his arm as they turned to leave. Her victorious smirk was the last thing Giselle saw before the door slammed shut.
And just like that, she was nothing.
--
Moments later, the once-celebratory hotel room was silent. Giselle sat motionless on the floor, hair a tangled mess, face burning, her body covered in bruises and shame. The duvet slipped from her shoulders. Her lips trembled.
"How did it end like this?" she whispered to the empty room. "How did everything... become this?"
Douglas had taken her into that room. How had a stranger come in instead? Why hadn't anyone believed her? Why was Sylvia acting all cozy with Douglas?
Her tears fell silently, soaking the carpet.
By the time she finally dragged herself up, it was evening.
Barefoot, dazed, she wandered the streets aimlessly. Past glowing storefronts and indifferent strangers. Past laughter that belonged to other lives, lives untouched by betrayal. The pavement cut into her feet but she didn't feel it. She walked and walked, as though movement could silence the storm inside her.
When she finally returned to the house she once called home, the air felt foreign.
The maids glanced at her puffy face, her limp hair, her torn dress- and looked away. Not a single one acknowledged her. She may as well have been invisible.
"I lost my place long before today," she thought bitterly. All that's left is to pack and leave.
But as she padded across the polished tiles, the sound of laughter floated down the hallway. Familiar. Intimate.
She froze outside the matrimonial bedroom door. Douglas's voice. And Sylvia's.
Her heart stopped.
She crept closer, pressing her ear to the wood.
Sylvia's voice was silky, mocking. "The man in the video wasn't even the fat pig we sent, was he?"
Douglas chuckled, deep and careless. "So what? What does it matter? She still spread her legs for another man. That's all the proof I needed."
Sylvia giggled. "And now we've got her inheritance. Our plan worked perfectly."
The world tilted beneath Giselle's feet. Her knees threatened to give way.
Their plan.
The words echoed in her skull, over and over until rage consumed her.
She barged into the room, her scream raw and trembling. "YOU PLANNED THIS?!"
Douglas and Sylvia jerked around.
Giselle's hands fisted in Douglas's collar before she knew it. "Why?! I loved you! I gave you everything! And you... " Her voice broke, "you cheated on me with her? My sister?!"
Sylvia lounged on the bed, unfazed, wearing the black lingerie Douglas had once gifted Giselle. She toyed with the strap lazily, her smirk cruel. "All this screaming won't change anything. We have the video. We have the inheritance. And you? You're nothing now. Just a poor, pathetic bitch."
Giselle snapped. She lunged at Sylvia, clawing at her, shrieking with fury. Years of humiliation, heartbreak, betrayal poured out in one feral attack.
"YOU b***h! I'LL KILL YOU!"
Sylvia shrieked as nails tore at her skin, but Douglas wrenched Giselle back, his hands bruising her arms. He slammed her down against the bed.
"You dare lay a hand on her?!" he roared. "You have no right to be angry!"
Pain shot up Giselle's leg as she twisted. She cried out, clutching it, vision swimming.
Sylvia sauntered closer, her fingers brushing Douglas's chest, her voice low and thoughtful.
"She's nothing now," she murmured. "No money. No reputation. No one would believe a word she says."
Her gaze flicked to Giselle, measuring, cold.
"People like her tend to... disappear on their own."
Douglas's grin was chilling.
"No..." Giselle's voice cracked.
He scooped her up effortlessly, slinging her over his shoulder like dead weight. She screamed, kicked, thrashed, but his grip was iron.
"DOUGLAS! PUT ME DOWN!"
Her screams echoed down the hall as he carried her out.
Sylvia grabbed a coat, the car keys jingling in her hand. She smirked over her shoulder as they left the house. "Thank you for taking care of my man, Giselle." She whispered into her ears.
Giselle's sobs filled the night as she was thrown into the trunk.
Douglas grabbed the rope with shaking hands, yanking her wrists together as she kicked and thrashed. "Hold still!" he snarled, fumbling as the rope slipped against her torn dress. He knotted it hard but sloppy, uneven.
Her ankles came next, tied just as roughly. She screamed until her throat bled, but no one came. The engine roared and the car sped into darkness. With every sharp turn and violent jolt, the rushed knots began to loosen.
The vehicle jerked again, slower now. A sharp turn. Gravel crunching beneath tires.
Her fingers brushed something plastic.
A latch.
Her breath caught.
She froze, fear warring with hope. Another bump. The car slowed further.
This was it.
She yanked.
The trunk flew open.
Cold night air rushed in, stealing her breath.
"What the-?!" Douglas shouted as he glanced at the rear-view mirror.
Before fear could stop her, Giselle rolled.
Pain exploded as she hit the road, skin tearing, bones screaming. Her body tumbled violently before she landed hard in the dirt, breath ripped from her lungs.
The car screeched.
"STOP THE CAR!" Sylvia shrieked. "Is she crazy?!"
Headlights swung wildly as Giselle dragged herself up, ignoring the agony screaming through her leg. She staggered, then ran straight into the darkness beyond the road.
"GET HER!" Douglas roared.
She didn't look back.
Branches tore at her face. Thorns shredded her arms. Every step felt like her leg might snap clean in two, but terror kept her moving.
Behind her, doors slammed. Footsteps crashed through brush.
"She can't go far!" Sylvia yelled.
Giselle tripped, rolling down a small embankment, crashing into mud and leaves. She lay there, shaking, barely breathing.
Flashlight beams cut through the trees.
Her sobs burned in her chest.
"Not tonight," she swore silently. "You don't get to kill me."
She crawled deeper into the undergrowth, covering herself with dirt and leaves, forcing her breathing to slow even as pain threatened to knock her unconscious.
Voices passed close.
"She's gone," Douglas growled finally. "Damn it."
Silence followed.
Only then did Giselle allow the tears to fall.
Her body was broken. Her heart was shattered.
But she was alive. And as darkness closed in-
"You tried to erase me," she thought faintly. "I'll make you regret betraying me."
- Writer
