Page 30 of My Ruthless Husband

Every touch, every look, every conversation hurts me. And it is worse now that I have to act indifferent. And put on a mask of nonchalance so he won’t suspect how heartbroken I am.

Growing up, I had a multitude of tutors shaping my every move, dictating how to act, behave, even how to walk and talk with a prescribed finesse. One might assume that feigningnonchalance about the divorce and his betrayal should come naturally. Yet, it’s far from easy.

I’m not sure how long I can last. This is the reason I didn’t want to return to L.A until I’d figured out a way to divorce without facing him. I can’t believe Damian is the same man who I once ran after like a fool to just get a glimpse of. And now don’t have the strength to face.

I close my burning eyes. Realizing with shame that I don’t possess a smidgen of strength to push his arm away. The grief twists my gut as I lay awake in his hold for a long time.

There was a time when he was my protector. My lover and ally against the world. And now he is my worst enemy. My husband who I have to stand against and fight for freedom.

As my concerns shift toward Dad, I reflect on the decision to leave him and sever ties in favor of being with Damian. But now that I have an inkling of his motives, there seems to be no reason to withhold myself from the affection of my dad any longer. I miss him greatly.

It has been so long since I heard his soothing voice. I don’t even know how he’s doing. I was too hurt to reach out but when the days turned to months, I eventually resigned myself to a painful truth—I believed Dad wanted nothing to do with me. Now, the desire to reconnect with him stirs within me but fear lingers, whispering that perhaps he wouldn’t welcome it.

The little cash I had was all spent on travelling. Damian didn’t let me work because he wanted me to be entirely dependent on him.

Now, I find myself without money, without a home, and without a job. A heavy sigh escapes me. My whole life is in shambles because of the man I love. Ever since he came into my life, everything’s turned upside down. Nothing’s the same anymore.

I jump slightly as his arm tightens around my waist. He mumbles something in his sleep before clutching me tighter. I twist my head and find his eyes clenched shut and face damp with perspiration.

“Damian?” Frowning, I touch his cheek. His face contorts, his bare chest rising and falling rapidly.

Grabbing his arm, I attempt to loosen his grip. My breath catches in my throat when Damian crushes my ribs. I wince and try again. It takes a minute for me to free myself and hover over him. Cupping his face, I try to wake him. “Damian, wake up.”

I run my fingers to smooth down his damp hair. “Please, Damian, wake up.” His eyes flutter and I whisper soothing words as I cradle his face. “Yes, come back to me.” A tear escapes from his closed eye and slides down his temple and wets my fingers. Something inside me squeezes hard when I realize he’s crying in his sleep.

What’s happening? Is this why he avoided sleeping beside me? We used this bed mainly for sex. At the beginning when I started waking up alone, I simply assumed he was an early riser. Come to think of it, I rarely caught him sleeping with me.

What’s troubling him? He’s never opened up about his past. All I know is that he was an orphan until Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery adopted him at the age of 12. Unfortunately, his adoptive parents passed away when he was in college, leaving him with little financial support. He forged his own path without relying on his father’s money. Beyond these details, I’m in the dark about his history. It’s a subject I’ve learned not to broach because it always makes him distant and guarded.

I press my lips to his cool forehead and stroke his hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.”

He says something again before jerking in my arms. “Damian,” I whisper, willing him to fight his demons and come back to me.

As if my plea reaches him, his eyelids begin to lift until he stares at me.

For a moment, his eyes are disoriented but then they sharpen and he quickly detaches himself from me.

My arms fall limply at my side as I stare at him helplessly. I know if I try to touch him, or console him, he would reject it. So I get off the bed and run outside the bedroom.

My feet thud on the floor as I hurry down the stairs. I pass the spacious dining room area and library before reaching the kitchen.

“Mrs. Montgomery?” A middle-aged woman dressed in white blouse and black slacks appears around the counter.

I startle, obviously not expecting company since Damian said he fired all the staff. “I’m Edith. Your new housekeeper.”

“Hello, sorry I’m in a bit of a hurry.” I stride to the fridge.

“Do you need anything? You can tell me—”

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. And pause for a second then decide to grab a small bottle of orange juice. “I got it, thanks.” I respond then I’m running back to the bedroom, vaguely noticing the guards I might’ve missed in my haste here. I ignore them as I quicken my pace. This place is awfully huge.

Upon entering, I find the bedroom empty. The sound of the shower running grabs my attention. So I pace the room as my gaze keep straying at the bathroom door.

My throat is dry as I try to swallow. I need to talk to him. Make sure he’s okay. I’m so wired up that I give a start when the door opens and he comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I hurry to his side and extend the water bottle. He ignores it and marches to the walk-in closet. I follow him but stop at the doorframe. “Damian,” I avert my gaze when he drops the towel. “I…” I glance at the bottles in my hand. “You should… this,” I turn my head to see if he’s decent and find him in his boxers, rummaging through his dress shirts.

I hesitate for a second before stepping inside. “Here.” I offer both the bottles. He doesn’t even spare them or me a glance as he picks up a black shirt and pulls it on.

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