He Gave Our Bedroom to Her... So I Disappeared

Chapter 8

"You're just the chauffeur's kid from the Roberts estate—the same ungrateful bastard Grandma Rhea kicked out for stealing," Michael snapped, his voice dripping with contempt.

Bryson raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "That all you've got?" he said coolly.

But I wasn't about to let Michael insult him like that.

I stepped in, glaring hard. "Watch your mouth, Michael. Bryson isn't who you think he is. And what the hell are you doing here anyway? This is private property. You're trespassing—and that's a crime."

Michael's expression darkened. He seemed to forget he'd flown halfway across the world to win me back, not pick a fight.

"Ashlyn, I came all this way to bring you home. Can you please stop acting like a child?"

"Home?" I looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Did you hit your head or something? We're divorced, Michael. You saw my signature on the papers."

He scoffed. "That ridiculous piece of paper? I tore it up."

I blinked. "Unbelievable."

Michael stepped forward, desperation flickering in his eyes. "I know why you're mad. Daniela—she's out of the picture. I swear, she won't show up again. It's over."

He reached out to touch me, but I stepped back and pushed his hand away.

My voice was calm but cold. "Mr. Hudson, when the Roberts family lost everything, your family was the only one who helped. I married you because I was grateful. For nine years, I did everything I could to repay that debt."

"And now, Daniela's carrying your child. The Hudsons finally have an heir. Congratulations. I genuinely hope the three of you live a long, peaceful life together."

My words were clear—and Michael wasn't stupid. He got the message: I was done.

Panic flashed across his face. "Wife, what are you saying? You're telling me these nine years meant nothing? That you stayed with me out of obligation? You really expect me to believe that crap?"

No, he didn't believe it. He couldn't.

Because if I hadn't loved him, I wouldn't have begged for a kiss every morning before he left for work.

If I hadn't loved him, I wouldn't have cried my eyes out the night of his surgery, refusing to leave the hospital no matter how many people tried to talk me down.

I had loved him. Deeply. So deeply it had been obvious to everyone.

And how did he repay that love?

The more I gave, the more cruel and careless he became. He crushed my dignity like it meant nothing. He forgot that hearts break—and once they've bled long enough, they go numb.

Eventually, you stop begging. You stop hurting. You just... let go.

Michael looked at me, bloodshot eyes filled with pain. His voice cracked. "Ashlyn, I didn't know it hurt you this much. I brought Daniela in because I felt responsible. That's all. Once the baby's born, I'll send her overseas. Is that good enough?"

"It was one stupid drunken night. It didn't mean anything."

I shook my head. "Michael, I don't care what she meant to you. All that matters is this—I have a new life now. I'm not going back. Please… just leave."

"A new life? What new—"

But he didn't get to finish.

After two sleepless nights, running on pure adrenaline and blood loss from that tattoo, Michael swayed where he stood.

The world blurred.

Then everything went black as he collapsed to the ground.