Ex-Husband(Your Step-Brother Is Hotter)

Chapter two

~THE ESCAPE~

I forced myself upright, gripping the edge of the console table until my vision steadied. Every muscle trembled. My ribs ached with each breath. Blood had dried at the corner of my mouth.

This was not the time to be weak.

It was now or never. If Brown came back, he would be drunker, crueler, harder to escape. He would finish what he started. And next time… Ariel might see more than bruises.

Tonight was the last night he would ever touch me.

I staggered up the staircase, one hand pressed to my side, the other gripping the railing. Each step felt like broken glass under my skin. I pushed through the doors of our bedroom, the room that had once looked like a dream in magazine pages. Silk curtains, unique furniture, and a bed too large for two strangers pretending to be husband and wife.

I went straight to the closet. Not for clothes.

I didn’t care about dresses, heels, designer bags, or the expensive life he used to chain me to him. I reached behind a row of handbags and pulled out the small shoulder bag I had hidden months ago.

My escape bag.

The one I packed every time I thought I might leave… and never did. With shaking hands, I stuffed in the jewelry Brown bought after each beating. Diamond earrings after the broken wrist. Gold bracelets after the black eye. A luxury watch after the miscarriage he called bad timing. Lastly, I tucked in my phone.

Tonight, it would pay for freedom.

Then I grabbed the cash I had hidden in envelopes, books, behind drawers, small amounts stolen from grocery budgets and housekeeping allowances. Money saved one trembling bill at a time for a day I prayed would come.

I tied the bag tight around my waist and wore a loose, big gown. Then I wrapped a large headscarf around my hair, letting it fall low enough to shadow half my swollen face.

When I entered Ariel’s room, she was kneeling beside her tiny backpack, tongue peeking out in concentration as she fought the zipper.

My heart shattered.

She was four years old and already knew how to pack in silence.

I knelt in front of her despite the pain and took her little hands in mine.

“Are you ready to play a game with Mommy?”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” My throat tightened. “I need you to hide under Mommy’s gown and hold my waist very tight, just like when we play monster cave.”

She giggled softly.

“But this time, no talking. No laughing. And don’t let go until Mommy says so. Can you do that?”

She nodded seriously. “I’m ready.”

I smiled even as tears burned behind my eyes.

I slipped her small backpack onto her shoulders and took one last look around the room. Stuffed animals, storybooks, and pink curtains. The childhood I tried so hard to preserve inside a house full of violence.

Then I turned away.

Brown had one strict rule: no live-in staff. No maids sleeping over. No nannies in residence. He said it was for privacy.

I knew the truth. He didn’t want witnesses.

Only the security guards stayed outside the house around the clock. Loyal men paid not to ask questions.

At the front door, I whispered, “Now, baby.”

Ariel slipped beneath my gown and wrapped her tiny arms around my waist. Her small body pressed against my bruises, and pain shot through me so sharply I nearly cried out. But pain was better than being caught.

I opened the door.

One of the guards hurried forward. “Good evening, ma’am. Do you need anything?”

“Yes.” I kept my voice cold and steady. “Bring the car around. Quickly. I need to step out.”

He hesitated. “But ma’am… sir said—”

I yanked down the scarf enough to reveal the purple marks on my cheek.

“Do you need me to show you the rest?” I asked quietly. “I need air. And painkillers.”

His expression changed instantly—shock, pity, fear.

“Yes, ma’am.” He rushed off.

Minutes later, the black SUV rolled to the entrance. The driver stepped out, ready to open the door and drive me himself.

“I need to be alone,” I said sharply. “Just for a few minutes.”

He nodded, uncomfortable, and handed me the keys.

I moved carefully, forcing myself not to limp. Not to clutch my ribs. Not to betray the child hidden beneath my clothes.

I slid into the driver’s seat, Ariel still curled between my knees. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the keys twice.

Then the engine roared to life. The gates opened.

And as we drove through them, I exhaled for the first time in four years. Freedom tasted like night air.

I waited until the mansion lights were distant stars behind us before pulling over.

“Okay, baby.”

Ariel popped up laughing, hair messy, cheeks flushed. She climbed into the passenger seat like this was all a game.

“Are you okay?” I asked, guilt crushing my chest.

She beamed. “Did I play good?”

I nearly broke.

“You played perfectly.”

“Yay!” she squealed, clapping.

I drove on, my mind racing. We can’t keep the SUV. Brown would track it within minutes once he noticed it missing. We needed to ditch the car, find a taxi, disappear into some cheap hotel until sunrise.

Ten more minutes, I told myself.

Then headlights flashed violently in front of us.

A car swerved across the road, blocking my lane.

I jerked the wheel left. Another vehicle shot in from the side, cutting off escape. Tires screamed. Ariel screamed louder.

I slammed the brakes. The SUV jolted to a stop.

My heart stopped with it.

No, no, no.

Had Brown found us already?

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles whitened. For one wild second, I considered flooring the accelerator and crashing through them.

But then I looked at Ariel—tiny, shaking, eyes wide with terror.

My strength collapsed.

I hit the steering wheel once, helpless rage tearing through me.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, reaching for her hair with trembling fingers. “Mommy’s here.”