Three Reasons to Leave

Chapter 3

Audrey's POV

I woke up to cold sheets and an empty space beside me, knowing immediately that Preston had sneaked out during the night.

After seven years, I knew his habits like the back of my hand. I knew the late-night showers he always took the second he walked through the door, and I knew the musky, expensive cologne he only ever sprayed when he was meeting another woman.

I even knew the way he would act affectionate the next morning, pouring my coffee and asking about my day because guilt made him generous for approximately five minutes.

I told myself I didn't care anymore. The numbness was supposed to protect me from feeling anything at all.

Then my hand brushed against the cold, unwrinkled fabric on his side of the mattress, and I hated myself for even noticing he was gone.

I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen to start breakfast. Cooking was one of the few things left in this house that I could actually control, where things followed a recipe and didn't suddenly betray you without warning.

Around six in the morning, the front door clicked open.

Preston strolled into the kitchen, smelling faintly of mint gum and cheap perfume, his jacket slung over one shoulder as if he had just finished an honest day of hard work.

"Rough night out with the boys from the club," he muttered, rubbing his eyes and giving me a tight, tired smile. "Lost track of time over a few rounds of bourbon."

Across the kitchen island, sitting on high stools like they had lived here for years, were Jude, Asher, and Tristan. They had stayed the night in the guest wing to finalize Preston's investment portfolio today.

Jude set down his porcelain coffee mug, his gaze locking onto Preston's black button-down shirt.

"Must have been some party, Preston," Jude said smoothly, pointing a casual finger toward Preston's left shoulder. "Your collar has a pretty shade of crimson lipstick smeared right along the seam."

Asher let out a low, mocking chuckle from the corner, spinning a butter knife across the granite countertop.

"Sounds like you had a very enthusiastic drinking buddy," Asher smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "Didn't know the guys from your club wore cherry red gloss."

Preston's face flushed red for a second, but he tried to laugh it off with a wave of his hand.

"Just a spilled cocktail from the waitress," he lied, his laugh sounding thin and forced.

Then he caught me staring at the red smear near his collar, and the fake smile vanished from his face entirely.

His jaw tightened into that ugly, rigid line I had seen a thousand times before.

"We will discuss this upstairs, Audrey," he muttered under his breath, stepping close to grab my arm and pull me toward the hallway stairs.

I pulled back, planting my bare feet against the hardwood floor. "Don't touch me, Preston."

His face darkened, his temper flaring at being defied in front of three men who held his future in their hands.

His fingers snapped shut around my right wrist, squeezing hard right over the yellowing bruise he had left on me.

Tristan stood up.

That was all it took for the temperature in the kitchen to drop twenty degrees in an instant.

Preston released my wrist immediately, taking a frantic half-step back as if he had just touched a hot stove. He mumbled an excuse about needing to change his shirt and hurried out of the kitchen, his dress shoes squeaking nervously against the floor.

I stood there in the quiet room, rubbing my aching wrist, and looked up at the three men staring at me.

Jude watched me with a cold assessment, Asher had stopped smiling, and Tristan was looking at me like I was a cracked piece of glass on the verge of shattering into dust.

A wave of hot humiliation washed over me, completely different from the shame Preston caused.

"Stop it!" I snapped, my voice shaking with sudden, boiling fury as I glared at all three of them. "Stop looking at me like I am some pathetic, helpless little girl who needs you to play hero!"

"Audrey—" Asher started, his tone surprisingly gentle, but I cut him off before he could take a step toward me.

"This is my marriage, this is my home, and these are my decisions!" I yelled, the words spilling out of my chest like poison. "I know he is unfaithful. I know he doesn't love me! You think I am stupid? You think I don't know what kind of man I married? I know it seems weird, but I promise, I know what I'm doing. So please…please, stop trying to ruin my marriage."

They stayed silent, letting my anger crash against them without moving an inch.

The truth was ugly and terrifying, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. Leaving Preston meant packing my bags and crawling back into the real world with empty hands.

It meant having to look all my old relatives, my dead mother's friends, and everyone who envied my wealthy life in the eye and admitting that I was a failure.

It meant admitting that I had spent seven years defending a hollow, rotten cage that was never worth defending in the first place.

It meant going back to being the girl everyone felt sorry for, the broken charity case from college.

I would rather swallow a mouthful of shattered glass than stand in a room and hear someone say, I told you so.

Tristan listened to every word without blinking, his expression carved out of stone.

When I finally ran out of breath, my chest heaving as tears of frustration burned behind my eyelids, he began walking toward me.

His footsteps were slow, deliberate, and calm as he closed the distance between us.

He stopped inches away, smelling like clean rain, and the dangerous past I had tried so hard to bury.

His gaze dropped down to my left hand, staring at the glittering diamond band wrapping around my finger.

"How do we even ruin an already ruined thing, Audie-Bear?" he asked quietly, his voice so soft it felt like a knife slipping between my ribs.

"Give me some space, Tristan," I demanded, backing up until my hips hit the edge of the kitchen island. "Back off."

Instead of arguing, Tristan reached out and took my left hand in his large, calloused palm.

His touch was terrifyingly warm, sending a violent shiver all the way up my spine before I could pull away.

With a swift, practiced motion of his thumb, he slid the diamond wedding ring straight off my finger, closing his fist around the metal before I could even process what was happening.

"Give that back!" I hissed, lunging forward with furious hands to pry his fingers open. "That is not yours!"

Tristan easily held my wrists with his free hand, keeping me steady while he slipped the ring straight into the front pocket of his dark trousers.

He released my wrists and took a step back, his gray eyes locking onto mine with unwavering control.

"You're free to keep your marriage," he said, his voice deadly calm. "I'll keep this until you choose to stop lying about what it is.”