The Substitute Bride’s Revenge

CHAPTER 4

Jasmine's Pov

The silence in the hospital room was deafening. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the rain, the jagged glass, and Alexander’s cold silhouette. But surprisingly, the grief wasn't just there anymore. Rather, I felt hollow.

“I want to leave,” I whispered, more to myself than to the doctors.

The doctor, who was checking my IV drip, paused and looked at me with deep concern. “Ms. Jasmine, you’ve been through an immense physical and emotional trauma. Your body is still in shock, and your blood count is low. It would be much better, safer, if you stayed here for at least another forty-eight hours.”

“I want to go back,” I said, more firmly this time, though my hands were shaking under the thin hospital blanket. I needed to know if there was anything left of the life I had built, or if it had all been a hallucination.

“I can’t recommend…”

“Please,” I interrupted, looking him in the eye. “I can’t breathe in here.”

Against his better judgment, the doctor eventually signed the papers. My legs felt like lead, and every step sent a shooting pain through my bandaged knees, but I forced myself to walk. I walked out of that hospital, still wearing the oversized sweatshirt a nurse had given me, and began the long trek back to the place I used to call home. By the time I reached the familiar gates, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, mocking shadows across the pavement. I stopped dead.

My things were thrown out.

Suitcases were flipped open, my clothes, dresses he had bought me, sweaters I had loved, were strewn in the dirt like trash. My books, my shoes were scattered haphazardly. I stood there, staring at the heap and feeling a strange sense of detachment. I walked up to the gate and pressed the intercom, but it was the security officer who stepped out of the small guardhouse, looking at me with pity.

“Why are my things out here?” I asked, my voice was soft.

The guard looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Alexander’s orders, Miss. He said you aren’t welcome here anymore. He told us to clear out everything belonging to you and to make sure the locks were changed.”

“I see,” I muttered. I didn't beg to go inside and explain about the baby, the baby he had killed.

What was the point?

I looked at the pile of bags. I didn't have the strength to carry them, and I didn't want the memories they held. I reached down and picked up one thing: a small handbag that had miraculously remained closed. Inside was my phone and my passport. From the corner of my eyes, I could see the maid who helped me out of the attic rush back inside. She must have been the one who placed the passport inside my bag.

I turned away from the mansion without a second thought and walked until I reached a small park a few blocks away. I sat on a bench and pulled out my phone.

I scrolled past Alexander’s name. Past our shared friends. I stopped at a number I hadn't called in three years, a number I had buried when I thought I had found my "forever." The line rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice picked up.

“Jasmine?” The voice was wary, surprised.

“It’s me,” I said, staring at the sunset. My voice was scarily calm. “Come and pick me up. I’m done. I don't want to stay in this country for another second.”

“Where are you?”

“At the park on 5th,” I replied. “And bring the jet. I’m coming back home.”

************

A few hours passed until the low hum of a car vibrated through the pavement. A black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the curb, and the car didn't even stop when the doors opened and a man stepped out. He walked towards me, practically running, and scooped me up into his arms.

“Jasmine.” He breathed. “Oh my God. You… What happened to you?”

“Big brother.” I mumbled, “Can we leave now? I… I don't want to stay here any longer. Please.”

“Go into the car. Mom and dad are waiting for you at home. Let's go. Come on.” My brother ushered me into the car, and as I slid into the backseat, he as well, the car began to move. At that exact moment, a familiar silver Maybach turned the corner.

It was Alexander.

I could see his silhouette through his windshield, the sharp line of his jaw, the arrogant tilt of his head. He was coming home to his "true love," likely prepared to deliver whatever "later" punishment he had promised me. I reached for the window control, pressing the button to roll it down just an inch. The cold wind whipped into the car, stinging my cheeks. I looked down at my left hand, at the ten-carat diamond ring.

With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the ring out into the gutter. I didn't wait to hear it hit the ground. I didn't wait to see if he noticed.

"Close it," I whispered to the driver.

The window whirred shut, sealing shut. I leaned my head against the cool glass, watching the estate shrink into a tiny, insignificant dot in the distance. I was done. I, Jasmine Dighton, only daughter and heiress of the Dighton Family, would never stoop so low as to force myself into a place where I wasn't needed. I would rather die.

"To the airfield," I said, my voice steady and cold. "It's time to go home.”.