BLAKE
“Good evening, everyone.
I wasn’t supposed to give a speech tonight. In fact, I only found out a short while ago. But sometimes, the best words are the ones that come straight from the heart, not planned, not polished, just honest.
I stand here not just as Mrs. Remington… but as a woman who knows what it means to struggle, to be pushed into hard choices, and to rise anyway.
This company, my father’s company, went through a storm. A hard one. And truth be told, I didn’t know if we’d survive it. But we did. Not just because of numbers or money, but because of people. People who refused to give up. People who showed up. People who believed that something broken could be rebuilt.
I want to thank every person in this room who stood with us, who chose to invest in more than a business, who chose to invest in hope.
And to every young woman watching tonight, or even hearing about this tomorrow, I want to say this: You don’t have to be loud to be strong. You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy. Sometimes, standing in a room full of power and knowing your worth, that’s enough.
Thank you for believing in us. Thank you for believing in me.
And thank you for reminding me that even when everything falls apart, there’s still a way forward.
Have a wonderful evening.”
I stood at the corner of the event hall with a glass in my hand. The people who had turned up for the fundraiser at the last time were smiling, talking amongst themselves and laughing. Everyone looked at Jasmine like she was the star. She stood on the stage looking confident in the black dress I had purchased for her, holding the mic like she owns the place, speaking with strength – not stopping nor stammering – the words flowed easily out of her mouth. And the people clapped, smiled and even stood up for her.
I watched her all of it without blinking. She was stealing the show. I told her to give a short speech. Just something simple, I had told her a few words and maybe smiled, waved, and sat down. But no. Jasmine turned it into her night. Her spotlight. The people around me whispered.
“She’s amazing.”
“She speaks so well.”
“Remington really got himself a smart wife.”
I sipped my drink slowly watching everything unfold around me. The speech was supposed to be given by me but I wanted to be mean to Jasmine so I decided that telling her about it in a short notice would make her disgrace herself. But did she? I smiled at a man who clapped too hard beside me, but inside, I wasn’t smiling.
She was just my wife. A trophy. A name. A cover. Not a queen. Not a star.
When she walked off the stage, I moved fast. I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a quiet corner near the flowers and long curtains.
“You did too much,” I said, keeping my voice low.
She frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”
“You were showing off.” I spat out, rage clouding my fury. I looked around me to make sure no one had taken notice of our absence and was searching us out with their gaze.
“I was speaking,” she shrugged. “You told me to give a speech, remember? And I did.”
“I didn’t tell you to become the whole event.”
“I didn’t plan that. I didn't ask for this. You threw me in the fire without a notice, Blake. I handled it. Now you’re mad because they liked me?”
I stepped closer and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Know your place, Jasmine.”
She stared at me like I had grown some fucking head. “My place?” she scoffed and rolled her eyes at me.
“You don’t just stand on stage and act like the whole world is yours. You’re not the face of this marriage. I am.”
“You’re unbelievable. You forced me to do it. I did it better than you expected and now you're angry?” She forcefully tore my fingers away from her chin and glared at me. "What the hell is wrong with you? You were all happy and playful for a few minutes and wanted me to give a mind-blowing speech, and now I did, you're furious and warning me to know my place." She arched an eyebrow at me and shook her head in clear confusion.
“I’m not angry. I’m warning you. Stop trying to shine where I stand.”
She laughed once, bitterly. “You’re jealous. That’s what this is.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“No, you keep your ego down.”
I clenched my jaw. “You think you’re better than me now?”
“I know I handled things better than you ever could!”
That was it. I grabbed her arm harder.
She slapped me across the face. The pain cut across my cheek so sharp and loud. Before I could stop myself, I pushed her against the wall. I couldn't control my speed, her head hit the wall lightly and her eyes went wide, lips parted in shock.
“Don’t you ever slap me again,” I said, breathing hard.
“And don’t you ever touch me like that again!” she yelled.
A photographer came around the corner. And we hurriedly straightened up, although I knew we were quite late for this as the reporter was staring at us with a rather confused and knowing look. He cleared his throat.
“Mr. and Mrs. Remington! Please, a photo for the papers! Just a kiss for the camera!”
We turned fully to face him, both of us still breathing fast. Our clothes were messy from the struggle, my lip was bleeding from the slap, and her cheek had a scratch. We looked crazy and I couldn't blame the man for looking confused.
“No pictures!” I growled.
He still tried to position us to take pictures. My anger snapped instantly. I pushed the camera away. He stumbled back. Jasmine stormed off in heels.
The people stared at us mortified.The ride home was quiet. Not one word. Just the sound of the rain on the roof of the car. Then thunder started rolling.
I noticed Jasmine curled up a little on her seat, gripping her knees to her chest, her eyes were closed and she was breathing faster.
She was scared? Of the rain? Wonderful!
She kept shifting, one of her hands clutched her seatbelt, eyes blinked too much. Then thunder struck louder, and she gasped.
I grinned. This could be fun.
I pulled over near a small beach spot we passed by often. The road was quiet. No one was around. Just trees, sand, and the loud storm.
She looked at me. “Why are we stopping?”
I didn’t answer.
I stepped out, ran to her side, and opened her door.
She held the seat. “Don’t touch me.”
“You need to cool off.”
“Blake, please...”
I lifted her out of the car.
She started kicking. “Put me down!”
“Nope.”
“It’s raining!”
“That’s the point.”
I dropped her on the wet ground and closed the door.
“Blake!” she screamed.
I walked back to the car.
“Get back here!” she yelled louder.
I got in and drove off.
I laughed. It was cruel. I knew. But something about it felt good at that moment. She always talked back. Always had something to say. Always challenged me and won't acknowledge her place. Now, she was standing in the rain, just like how she made me feel...small, silent.
But as I drove farther, something didn’t sit right.
Minutes passed, too many and I turned the car back. I reached the spot but she was gone.
I jumped out. “Jasmine!”
Nothing.
I looked around the beach, the trees lining the view and the dark water.
“Jasmine!” I yelled again.
Panic hit me like thunder. Where was she? Did someone take her?
No. No. No.
I ran around the beach, my shoes sinking into the wet sand.
“Jasmine!” I shouted again and again.
Then I heard it. A scream..It came from the side.
I ran recognizing the voice as jasmine and the panic laced in it.
I ran faster than I ever had.
I followed the sound until I saw her.
She was hanging....one hand on a thick rope tied to some broken dock pole. She dangled over the edge, legs kicking above the water.
“Jasmine!”
She looked up. Her wet hair stuck to her face. Her eyes were full of fear.
“Don’t let me fall!” she cried.
“I got you!”
I grabbed her waist and pulled. The rope slipped. Her hand almost let go.
“Hold on!”
“I can’t!” she screamed.
“You can!”
I pulled harder. Finally, I got her up. She fell on the ground, coughing, breathing heavily.
I touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She looked at me. And slapped me. Hard that my cheek burned. She got up and walked away. I followed her.
We didn’t talk again until we got home. She stepped inside first, dripping wet. I followed, head down. My heart is still pounding.
She turned around and pointed her finger at me.
“You are sick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You left me. In the rain. Alone. And I almost died!”
“I wasn’t thinking. I just… I overreacted.”
“You’re crazy, Blake.”
“I know.”
“I’m reporting you.”
“To who?”
“My father and your father. Everybody. You’re going to kill me someday. Once it happens, they'd have the slightest idea who had done it.”
“No, I won’t.”
“You almost did!”
“I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t going to leave you forever. I just...”
“You think this is funny? I could have drowned! I was vulnerable. And you knew and used it against me.”
“I came back.”
“Too late!”
She walked to the stairs.
“Jasmine, please. Don’t report me. I was stupid. I was a jerk. I was wrong.”
She paused and turned.
“Don’ttalk to me again.”
“Jasmine...”
“Ever.”
And then she walked up.
I stood there in wet clothes, water dripping from my face, hands shaking.
I didn’t feel strong anymore.
I didn’t feel proud.
I felt... wrong.
Really wrong.
Jasmine’s POVThe rain had slowed down, and the thunder was not so loud anymore. I was still in the living room, curled on the couch with my favorite blanket and a fantasy romance book in my hands. The title was Zodiac Academy. I had just gotten to the part where everything was getting heated — The Ruthless Boys of the Zodiac — and I couldn’t put it down. I was fully inside that world, far away from the thunder outside or the weird tension in this house.Blake stood up and stretched. He looked toward the kitchen and then back at me.“I’m going to check the power box,” he offered. “Maybe I can fix the lights.”I nodded without looking up from my book. “Go be a man, honey,” I said with a small smile.He rolled his eyes and walked off. I kept reading. My heart was still beating fast...not from the storm, but from the part of the book where the main character was surrounded by her enemies-turned-lovers. And the fact she wanted all of them, and not just one. I was thoughtful of how a norma
BLAKEI stared stupefied at her but got up anyway without dwelling much on her words. I jogged the few steps separating us and was beside her. I slipped my fingers into her arms as we walked slowly toward the car. Jasmine was still humming lightly beside me, holding the leftover ice cream cup. Her lips were slightly stained from the strawberry, and her cheeks still had that pink glow. She looked happy like a child who just got a gift from her parents. She even fixed her hair a little, and smoothed down her clothes. No one would ever know she had just been sitting in my lap a few minutes ago and playing dirty with me.I pressed the button from a far distance to unlock the car.We got forward and that was when I saw her.A woman sat on the hood of the car. One leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers. She was dressed in something tight and expensive. Her long legs were graved in a long heel, her round face was blessed with sunglasses. She had red lips and blonde hair.
JASMINEAfter the incident at the elevator, I could tell Blake was still mad. He didn’t say it out loud, but I knew. His jaw was tight, and he hadn’t smiled once since we left. I tried to ignore him. I sat beside him in the car as we left the office, but he didn’t even glance at me.He was mad because I spoke in the meeting. But I didn’t care. I had to speak. They were trying to break him down, and I just couldn’t sit there. I had to do something. And besides who knew if it was a test to know if the marriage was really standing...like what Caldwell had made us do. What if the executives suddenly got this weird idea about it..."You know the wife was sitting with her husband while we bash him left and right, and she didn't bother to say a word in his defense." If a word like this got out to the public, there was no way we were going to get off the hook so easily. And besides I always had a thing for bullies like the executive and I hate to watch people close to me insulted. Not like Bl
Blake’s POV“This meeting is important,” I told her as we left the house. “All I need you to do is sit and smile.”Jasmine rolled her eyes. “I’m not a flower vase, Blake.”“I didn’t say you were,” I grabbed her hands and hauled her over to face me. My gaze fixed on her and she swallowed at the intensity of it. “But today, just act like one. Sit. Look pretty. Smile. That’s it. Don’t speak. Don’t even cough.”She raised her brow. “And if I do?”I looked straight ahead. “If you don’t behave, I’ll punish you. You know that.”She scoffed. “Touch me and I’ll cut off your hand. I’ll send it to your father, wrapped in one of your suits.” she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at me And damn, if she didn't look cute but I won't let her face card deceive me.I burst out laughing. I shook my head as I opened the car door. “You’re becoming scary and sweet, little monster.”She climbed in with a smirk. “And you like it. Don't try to lie.”I flashed her a grin and got into the car. We didn’t talk
Jasmine’s POVI didn’t want to do this. I really didn’t.Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection. My hair was done. My face was painted with soft makeup. I wore the dress Blake had picked out for me a week ago. It was black. I was happy when he handed me the bag but I didn't show it. It was a backless, tight gown and it clung to every part of my body. I looked beautiful, yes. But inside, I felt cold. I didn’t want to go to this stupid party. I didn’t want to pretend to be in love with a devil. Not after everything Blake did. Not after the rain.I still remembered that night. The sound of the rain pouring. The way my body had shaken in fright, the way my heart had raced, and Blake...letting me out of the car like he didn't care. Like he hadn't seen what it was doing to me. He used it against me. He did it on purpose. And now, I had to smile and hold his hand in front of rich strangers?I had called Julia in the morning after I got to work, and told her about what Bla
BLAKE It’s been four days since that night.The fundraiser. The slap. The rain. The scream. The rope. The beach. The slap again. The silence after that.She hasn’t said one word to me. Not at home. Not at work. Not in the car. Not in the hallways. Not even accidentally.Nothing.I’ve tried. Not because I wanted to talk but because… I don’t know. Maybe guilt. Perhaps fear. Possibly shame.She almost died and it was my fault.I didn’t plan it. I didn’t mean it. But still… it happened. I left her in the rain, knowing fully well it was her phobia. I drove off, leaving her alone, and she could’ve been gone.I still hear her scream occasionally. In my head. Like a bell. Like a constant warning. I’ve apologized. Not once. Not twice. So many times.She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even look at me.During work day's, she goes to office very early, she refuse to reply to my tests and answer my calls. And she closes early every day, so I won't get the chance to corner and pick her at the company,