I should’ve cried. I should’ve screamed. But I was glad.

It meant he hadn’t seen the envelope I left hidden in my coat pocket: Petition for Divorce and Resignation Letter. Both stamped and signed. My final acts before disappearing from this bloodstained life.

I slipped into the tight black dress Carson once bought me… low-cut, elegant, dangerous. It hugged my bruises like silk bandages, turning me into the perfect illusion of a woman who wasn’t quietly falling apart.

Downstairs, I caught him staring.

But the second Madison walked in, all perfume and lipstick and smugness, I disappeared again.

On the drive to the event, I sat in the backseat, silent, staring out at the glittering city I was preparing to leave behind.

Madison was all giggles and claws in the passenger seat, curled into Carson’s side like she belonged there.

“This is the car we first kissed in,” she purred, trailing her fingers up his arm. “Do you remember how wild we got that night?”

Carson shifted. “Yes babe,” he muttered then he glanced at me in the rearview.

But I didn’t flinch. I was too busy confirming my flight. Tomorrow night. No more Mafia life. No more betrayal. No more Carson Langford.

As I leaned back, something crinkled beneath me. I reached down… and froze.

A wet, lacy thong lay on the seat beside me.

My stomach twisted.

Before I could speak, Madison turned and laughed. “Oh nooo,” she said with a mock-gasp. “Oops. That’s mine! Carson, I told you not to leave it in the car!”

She giggled, like it was a joke between lovers.

“I thought you hid my thong after last night.”

Carson didn’t even look ashamed. He plucked the soaked scrap of fabric from the seat and raised it to his nose.

He sniffed.

“Hm. Peaches,” he said, smirking. Then casually tucked it into his pocket.

I nearly vomited.

Not from disgust. From hatred. From how small he was, and how low I’d let myself fall to love a man like him. They laughed like teenagers in heat while I sat behind them, trapped in their filth.

But I smiled. Quiet. Calm.

Because by this time tomorrow, they'd wake up to a world without me and without my silence. And that silence? It was the last gift they'd ever get from me.

***

We arrived at the venue. Madison hung off his arm like a trophy while I followed behind like a servant. Every time someone called her Mrs. Langford, I saw Carson flinch. But he didn’t correct them. Not once.

Near the end of the event, just when I thought I could finally breathe, chaos broke loose.

Gunshots.

Screams.

People hit the floor. The orchestra scattered.

And the first thing Carson did?

He threw himself over Madison, shielding her like she was made of gold.

I stood there frozen, and before I could move, pain seared through my side. A bullet. I gasped, collapsing, blood soaking through my dress.

“C-carson…” I whimpered, reaching for him. “Help…”

He glanced back. For a moment, I saw something in his eyes. Panic, maybe. Love? No. Pity.

He ran to me, pressed his hand on the wound.

“Hold on, Abigail. Fuck! You’ll be okay. Just hang in there.”

But then—

“Carson!” Madison screamed. “The baby! I can’t move!”

And just like that, he dropped me. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t look back. He scooped Madison into his arms like some hero in a romance movie.

“You’re strong, Abigail,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll survive. But I can’t risk her. Or our baby.”

Then they vanished through the exit while I lay bleeding on the floor.

Alone.

Left behind by a man who once promised to protect me.

And in Madison’s smug smirk as she looked back, I saw it. She’d won. For now.

Gunshots echoed outside the doors, and I stayed hidden, bleeding, shivering. No one came.

Not Carson. Not even his crew.

When I finally crawled out, half-conscious from blood loss, the bastards had already cleared out. Left me there in the middle of a deal gone sideways.

The hospital patched me up. Again. The nurse didn’t even flinch this time. She knew me by name.

When I got back to the estate, I expected silence. Regret. Maybe someone was looking for me.

Instead, I found them at the long table in the dining hall. Carson. Madison. Kira. His mother. His right-hand man Oliver. Laughing. Drinking wine. Eating steak.

Like I hadn’t just taken a bullet meant for him.

Carson’s smile faltered when he saw me. Guilt flashed in his eyes, but it passed quick, like everything else with him.

“I had to take Madison to the ER,” he said, walking over. “She was in critical condition.”

“Yeah?” I said, voice flat. “Guess I wasn’t.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I just turned and climbed the stairs to our bedroom. Our prison cell, more like. I pulled out the old wooden box I kept under the bed. Love letters, pictures, our wedding ring, vows written on napkins from that cheap Vegas chapel.

I carried the box outside and dumped it into the steel barrel in the backyard.

Lit a match. Tossed it in.

Watched it burn.

All of it. The good years. The fake ones. The lies.

Carson stormed out when he smelled the smoke. “What the hell are you doing?!”

He grabbed the fire extinguisher, but it was too late. All he saved was a half-burnt photo of our wedding, his hand still on my waist, me smiling like a damn fool.

“You’ve lost it,” he growled. “Are you insane?!”

I looked him dead in the eyes. “I want a divorce.”

He froze. Something flickered across his face… panic? Rage? A glimmer of the man he used to be?

Then the sneer came. “You think you can just leave me?” he spat. “You got no money. No name. No power. This life, my life, you wouldn’t last a damn day without it.”

I turned away.

But before I could take another step, his hand clamped around my arm… tight, bruising.

“My old man liked you, that’s the only reason you became my wife,” he hissed, breath hot with fury. “You think you earned this? Without me, you’re nothing. You can’t even feed yourself. And now you want a divorce?”

I stared at his hand gripping my skin. Then I pulled away. Quiet. Calm. Like tearing off dead weight.

“I’d rather starve,” I said. And walked away.

Back into the house. Back into the silence. And just as I walked upstairs, his voice rang out one last time, desperate.

“Abigail!”

I paused but not for him.

A small pair of feet ran toward the door.

“Daddy!” the little girl cried, Madison’s daughter—his daughter. “Daddy, I won’t eat if you don’t feed me.”

Her voice cracked.

He turned to her. Hesitated.

And I? I kept walking.

Because for once… his hunger was no longer mine to feed.

---

By morning, the sky was clear.

I woke up smiling for the first time in years.

Because today was the day I left this cursed empire behind.

When I opened the door, Carson was standing there, holding a single white rose. My favorite.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know I messed up.”

His voice was gentle. His eyes were soft.

Just like the first time he pulled me into his world of blood, betrayal, and power disguised as love.

He held out a box wrapped in gold ribbon. Inside was a flowing yellow dress. Silk. Effortless. Radiant. My favorite color.

“I booked a place for us,” he said. “Same spot where we had our first date.”

I stared at him, stunned for a moment. And then I smiled.

A small, practiced, polite smile.

“Fine.”

He left humming, like he’d won me back.

Inside, I sank onto the bed and checked my phone—confirming my flight one last time.

As I scrolled, memory crept in like a ghost from another lifetime…

---

Paris. Four years ago.

I was twenty-three, still naïve enough to believe that flowers could mean forever.

He took my hand as we stepped out of the car into a candlelit rooftop garden overlooking the Eiffel Tower. The entire terrace had been emptied just for us. The music was soft. Jazz. Strings.

And then… A sudden gust of wind stirred the air, and I gasped.

Thousands of rose petals fluttered down from above, scattered like crimson snow, spiraling in the Parisian night.

Carson laughed and pulled me close. “I told you,” he whispered, “I’d give you anything.”

My eyes filled with tears. “Even the sky?”

He grinned. “Especially the sky.”

I remember how his lips tasted like wine when he kissed me under the rain of roses. How I told myself, This must be what love feels like. This. Right here.

Back in the present, I blinked the memory away.

Because now I knew better. That kind of love wasn’t real. It was a sedative. A lie with lace gloves.

Today, I’d wear the yellow dress.

I’d let him take me to the place he thought still had power over me.

I’d even smile. But when I left that table… I’d never come back. Not as his wife. Not as his victim.Not as his anything.

A text from Flynn lit up the screen.

“Today’s the day, baby. No backing out.”

“I’m in,’ I replied. ‘Let it burn.”

I stacked three gift boxes on the bed. Anniversary gifts for our five-year mark. Of course, Carson didn’t remember. Men like him only remember what benefits them.

Just as I was zipping the dress, the door burst open.

Carson. Madison. And that venomous old woman he called ‘Mama.’

Madison looked like she’d been rehearsing in front of a mirror.

“You set us up?!” Carson shouted, storming across the room. Before I could even react, his palm cracked across my face.

Then his mother slapped me. Twice. Hard and fast. Knocking me to the floor.

“You knew the Russians were coming! Just to test if Carson would save you? Are you sick in the head?” Madison shrieked.

“If you’re gonna kill me, fine,” she sobbed dramatically, clutching her stomach. “But spare my babies, please!”

“You ungrateful snake,” his mother snapped. “You think we owe you something after everything he’s done for you?”

They all screamed, cursed, kicked at my name like it was filth.

And I said nothing.

Because at that moment… I felt nothing.

“I gotta clean up your mess,” Carson spat. “You’re not leaving this house. Stay here. Think real hard about what you just did. I’ll deal with you later.”

He slammed the door behind him.

I grabbed my phone.

Dialed.

“Flynn,” I whispered.

“Tell me, baby girl.”

“I changed my mind,” I said calmly. “Release the footage. Send the emails. Start the fire. I want him to watch his kingdom crumble before I board that plane.”

Flynn chuckled. “Already done. Your ride’s out front.”

I stepped out. A small black sedan waiting by the gate.

The driver opened the door with a small nod. “Welcome, Mistress.”

As we pulled away from the estate, I looked back one last time.

And smiled. Let them burn. Every last one of them. Carson. Madison. That snake pit he called a family.

They wanted a war? They just made the mistake of forgetting who they married.

---

At the airport, I walked through security with nothing but a passport, a boarding pass, and the weight of everything they took from me.

The plane doors closed and my phone lit up.

Carson Langford – Calling…

Decline.

Again.

Again.

Again.

I let it ring. Let him suffer. Let him feel the silence he sentenced me to but on the fourth call, I answered.

I didn’t let him speak. I brought the phone to my lips, stared out the window as the engines began to roar, and said: “FUCK YOU, CARSON.”

Then I hung up.

And flew.