Page 133 of His Wild Seduction

He never wanted me.

And he never wanted the child he’d purposely gotten me pregnant with, thinking it would make him the next heir to my father’s business.

Little had he known, my father never believed a girl could run his company.

Dad set up procedures to sell the company when he died, which all went into action eighteen months ago when he passed away from a sudden stroke.

That was the first time Gary hit me.

Like an idiot, I stayed.

I didn’t really understand what happened. He was angry when they read the will. He called me names. He said I was worthless.

Told me he never wanted a frigid little bitch for a wife and that he only knocked me up so he could get his hands on the company.

And that was the first time I tried to leave him.

Afterwards, he begged, he cried, he apologized. I faltered. I gave in.

But he did it again.

Like most abusers, Gary was not really sorry. He blamed me for all his problems.

The last time he hit me, when he broke my arm and bruised my eye, he’d been going towards Sammy’s room with his belt in his hand.

I couldn’t let that happen. I covered my son’s door with my body, and when Gary tried pulling me off, that was when he broke my arm.

The black eye was from his belt. A little bit to the left of that bruise was the scar I would carry forever, just where my hairline met my left cheek.

It was from where the heavy buckle connected with my skin, breaking it, and causing me to bleed.

Here’s a fun fact in case you didn’t know, head wounds bleed a lot.

Gary saw all that blood, saw me fall to the floor, and he ran, giving me the opening I needed to get me and Sammy away from him.

Thank God.

Knowing he’d tried to hit my son with that belt buckle was all I needed to get out of there.

I was dumb for waiting. But I couldn’t be dumb anymore. For Sammy’s sake, I had to be smart.

I grabbed everything I could, and I ran straight to the shelter I’d seen on a billboard once when walking Sammy to preschool.

I had to pull him out early. But that was okay. We both needed time to heal. The mental scars were the worst, but with Meredith’s help and some serious therapy, I was doing much better.

I was starting to like myself again. To trust myself. But this last bit of news from my ex was too much.

I was never going to allow Gary access to our son.

No, I didn’t have the kind of clout necessary to make him go away, but I knew someone who did.

I hadn’t told Sof, Des, or Mer about what happened after Andres escorted me and Sammy home after our Sourdough Sunday lunch just before Labor Day.

It was almost Halloween now.

I hadn’t told anyone how I let Andres carry my sleeping son up the stairs that late afternoon.

Mrs. Stevens had been on an errand, and the rest of the house was empty.

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