Page 17 of My Ruthless Husband

I begin dancing the night away with my best friend and Goldie. The dark living room is glimmering with the lights of the disco ball hanging from the ceiling, giving the vibe of a night club.

Like my very own cheer leader, Summer lauds and praises me as I really start to move.

At one point, my wig slides down and my curls tumble down and fall all around me.

We laugh and sing the lyrics of the songs out loud, uncaring about how awfully loud we are. The clock read two in the morning an hour ago. Which means it’s way too late. My body is slowly losing the energy, but we aren’t stopping.

“So are you going to travel some more?” she asks, sliding her silver star-shaped sunglasses she bought for the party over her eyes.

I take off my pink heart-shaped glasses, the question sobering me a bit. It reminds of someone I’ve been trying to forget.

My husband.

Drugging Damian’s food was relatively easier than I imagined. He underestimated me a great deal. He never thought I would be brave enough to do something like that which only worked in my favor.

I acted my role of a timid wife, begged him to eat with me and saw the opportunity to mix the powdered sleeping pill into his soup and waited until he passed out.

Damian had everything meticulously planned. He thought handling me would be easy, which is why he didn’t bother having his men patrol outside the suite. His overconfidence worked in my favor, and I was lucky enough to seize the moment.

When I first ran from the mansion, deceiving his guards, I felt nothing. I was numb, my body moving on autopilot. But leaving Damian behind—thatfelt different. I felt very guilty and the regret and emptiness had drowned me.

After all, I still love him. You can’t just turn off feelings like a switch, no matter how much you try. They stay with you, lingering in the corners of your mind. Love doesn’t simply disappear, no matter how hard you fight it. It lingers, twisting inside you like a constant reminder of what you once had and what you’ve left behind.

When I married him, I believed, with all my heart and soul, that our relationship was sealed. For eternity. The thought of saying goodbye to him never even crossed my mind. I couldn’t imagine a life without him, not even in my worst nightmares. He was my forever, and I never thought I’d have to let go.

In these three weeks, all the money I had from selling my diamond studs, slowly dwindled away. Each day, the balance grew smaller, and with it, my hope.

I wanted to reach out to Dad. Several times, I even dialed his number, my finger hovering over the call button, but I always aborted it before it connected. What would I say to him? I had chosen love over the billion-dollar empire waiting for me as an heiress, turned my back on wealth and privilege just to marry Damian. I did this to myself. I had no right to go back to him, no face to show after everything I had thrown away.

My anxiety was spiraling. I could barely manage a couple of hours of sleep each night. All I wanted was to bury myself under the covers and never wake up. Nothing seemed to help. The grief was overwhelming, so much so that I had to fly back to L.A. just to be with Summer, to hold onto my sanity.

She asked me about my travel plans, but I knew the truth. I wasn’t running anymore. Running from him had proved useless. He’d made that clear in Paris by tracking me so easily.

But after I ran again, after drugging him, three weeks of radio silence made me believe he had already given up on me. As much as that thought hurt, there was a strange sense of relief too.

Maybe chasing down the wife he never wanted wasn’t something he was willing to waste his precious time on.

Before I can answer Summer, a knock at the door grabs my attention. I frown, glancing at her. “Expecting anyone?”

She shakes her head, a little too hard, sending her bright red wig spinning around her face. It’s barely staying on. “Nope. Are you?”

“No one even knows I’m in L.A., Summer.”

“Then who is it?”

The second knock is louder, more urgent, and Goldie lets out a frantic bark before sprinting down the hall, likely off to hide under her bed. Summer’s eyes go wide, and she starts hyperventilating, her breath coming in short gasps as she bolts after him.

I just watch, swaying, trying not to fall over as I follow her with my eyes.

Then, she comes flying back out of her room, baseball bat in hand like she’s ready to face off with some intruder. I blink, almost toppling over myself, but she catches me just in time, steadying me.

She shoves me onto the couch. “Sit tight,” she says, sounding like a superhero in a badly fitting wig and huge glasses. “I’ll be back.” Without waiting for a response, she slams the music off, her red wig almost falling off in the process, and storms toward the door like she’s about to take on a whole army.

I try to get up, but my body, already exhausted, refuses to cooperate. I lean back, close my eyes, and massage my temples, hoping the throbbing in my head will subside.

Then, the door crashes open with a loud bang, making Summer jump and causing my heart to freeze for a split secondbefore it starts pounding wildly in my chest. Wide-eyed, I scramble to my feet, my legs wobbly from the alcohol and the sudden rush of panic.

“Where’s my wife?”

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