IN MY FATHER-IN-LAW'S BED: HIS TWISTED GAME

I AM FREE

SUMMER’S POV

The silence that followed my outburst was heavy, like the air right before a thunderstorm breaks.

Darius stood frozen, the manila folder held in his trembling hands as if it were a bomb with a live fuse. His face had gone deathly pale, the arrogant Alpha facade completely stripped away to reveal the hollow man beneath.

He looked down at the documents, his eyes darting across the legal jargon—the terms of asset division, the waiver of spousal support, the finality of the dissolution.

"Summer," he began, his voice barely a rasp. "This... this is madness. You’re reacting in the heat of the moment. We can fix this. I'll fire Beatrice. I'll distance myself from her entirely. I’ll make it up to you, I swear on our bond..."

"Don't you dare speak to me about our bond," I snapped, stepping into his space.

I didn't care that he was an Alpha; I didn't care about the pack hierarchy or the ancient laws that tethered us together. "That bond died the moment you decided my sister’s bed was more appealing than your home. It died every time you looked at me and lied to my face."

He tried to reach for me again, a desperate, pathetic gesture, but I swiped his hand away.

"Sign it, Darius."

"No," he growled, a flicker of his old dominance returning. He crumpled the edges of the papers in his grip. "I am not signing these. You are my wife. You are a Benedict by blood and by law. I am not letting you walk away because you’re having a breakdown."

"A breakdown?" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "No, Darius. This is a breakthrough. For the first time in three years, I can actually see clearly."

I walked toward the dresser, pulled open the top drawer, and took out a high-end fountain pen—a gift he’d given me for our first anniversary. I walked back to him and thrust it into his chest.

"Sign the papers," I said, my voice dangerously steady. "If you don't, I will make sure the entire pack knows exactly what you and Beatrice were doing in that guest wing. I have the photos, Darius. I have the evidence of your 'weak point' right there on the phone you were so careless with."

The color drained completely from his face. He blinked, the reality of his own stupidity crashing down on him.

"You wouldn't," he whispered.

"Try me," I said. "I have nothing left to lose. You’ve already taken everything else."

He looked at me—truly looked at me—and for the first time, he saw that the woman standing before him was not the girl he had met in the rain. She was something colder, something harder. He saw the fire he had once claimed to love, now turned entirely toward his own destruction.

His hand trembled as he took the pen. He looked at the signature line, then back at me, searching for a sign of hesitation, a glimmer of weakness he could exploit. He found nothing.

With a shaky breath, he pressed the nib to the paper. The scratching sound of the pen against the stationary felt like a gavel coming down.

One signature.

Two signatures.

Three.

He finished and dropped the folder onto the bed. He looked like he had just aged a decade.

"It's done," he muttered, his eyes cast toward the floor. "But you’re making a mistake, Summer. You have no idea what you’re unleashing by leaving this family."

"I know exactly what I’m unleashing," I said, picking up the folder and hugging it to my chest like a prize. "I’m unleashing myself."

I turned to the wardrobe. I didn't want to leave this house in the plush, white hotel-style robe I’d been wearing since my shower—it felt like a garment of grief.

I pulled out a pair of black high-waisted trousers and a simple, elegant silk camisole. I didn't even bother with a mirror as I pulled them on, my movements sharp and efficient.

I shoved my feet into a pair of leather loafers, abandoning the heels I’d worn to the dinner party—those shoes belonged to the woman who still cared about appearances.

I shoved my feet into a pair of leather loafers, abandoning the heels I’d worn to the dinner party—those shoes belonged to the woman who still cared about appearances.

I grabbed a small duffel bag from the closet, threw in my passport, some cash, and a few essentials, and shoved the divorce papers inside.

I grabbed a small duffel bag from the closet, threw in my passport, some cash, and a few essentials, and shoved the divorce papers inside.

Darius didn't move. He stood in the center of the room, looking small in the shadow of his own guilt, his eyes following my every movement as I prepared to leave the life he had destroyed.

"Summer," he called out, just as I reached the door.

I paused, my hand on the cool metal of the handle, but I didn't turn around.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, his voice pathetic and small.

"That's the problem, Darius," I said, staring at the closed door. "You never even considered me enough to care whether you hurt me or not."

I snapped my hand from his grip, pulling the door open and shut the door hard.

I stepped out into the hallway, the cool air of the house hitting my face like a blessing. I didn't look back at the room, the bed, or the man who had been my entire world.

Slowly, I dragged my suitcase down the stairs, grunting as I did but that didn't stop me.

I stopped right at the door, taking one last glance at house I once called home.

This was it.

Letting out a deep breath, I pushed the front door open and stepped into the night.

I didn't know where I was going, but for the first time, the destination didn't matter.

I was finally free.