I Quit Being His Perfect Dream Wife

Kim Slater's POV

I received a call from the hospital. "Mrs. Granger, your mother is in critical condition and needs immediate surgery. Please come to the hospital and sign the consent forms…"

"I'll be right there! Please start the surgery first!" I cried.

Bodyguards were lined up at the front gate. I hung up and cut toward the corner of the courtyard, using a table and chair to climb over the wall. I'd just gotten halfway up when a harsh spotlight shone down on the wall, freezing me in place.

"Kim Slater, you're supposed to be the dignified Mrs. Granger. And here you are, using a bathroom break as an excuse to climb over a wall. You're a total disgrace to the Granger family!"

Even with the glaring lights blinding me, I recognized Winona Judd's voice at once. After all, she was the most powerful person in the Granger residence right now.

"Someone, drag Mrs. Granger down already. What are you all standing around for? Waiting for a circus act?" she snapped at the household staff.

The next second, I was yanked down hard. I hit the ground, rolled, and scrambled up, rushing to her on my hands and knees. "What will it take for you to let me go to the hospital?"

Winona looked at me and sneered. "Mrs. Granger, what will it take for you to finally learn the rules? For sneaking out at night, you're grounded for three days!"

Three days? I could wait that long, but Mom couldn't.

Her condition had been up and down for the past six months. The hospital had issued several critical condition notices. Any visit could be the last time I ever saw her.

Why else would I have done what I'd done? After a huge fight with my husband, Anson Granger, I'd waited until he was in the shower to sneak out and slip past Winona's surveillance. I'd risked everything to get to the hospital.

I just hadn't expected her to catch up to me this fast.

My phone buzzed nonstop in my pocket. I didn't even have to look to know it was the hospital urging me to hurry up.

Winona turned to leave. I reached out and grabbed her, but she threw me off, looking at my dirt-covered body with disgust. "I really don't know what Anson saw in you. How did a hick like you end up as his wife?"

I followed her gaze and looked down. Only then did I realize my clothes were torn and that two long bloody gashes ran across my arm.

"Ms. Judd, what do you want? Whatever I have, I'll give it to you. Just let me go to the hospital right now," I said.

She burst into laughter, as if she'd heard the world's biggest joke. After a long while, she asked, "Why don't you tell me what exactly you have? I wouldn't even bother with you if you weren't Mrs. Granger, Kim.

"I'm only doing this because I don't want you going out and ruining Mr. Granger's reputation. I'm warning you—stop trying to be clever. I have plenty of ways to punish you!"

I'd seen what she was capable of. I knew she wasn't bluffing. I gritted my teeth and watched her walk away, hatred burning so hot in my chest I felt like I might fall apart.

I was thrown back into my room. The pain in my arm finally began to spread in sharp, dense waves. My whole body ached as if it had been taken apart and put back together.

I suddenly remembered a time when I'd fallen as a child. Mom had hurried to me with heartache and picked me up, coaxing me tenderly. Dad had gently brushed the dirt from my clothes.

Those lovely moments would never happen again.

Dad had died in a car crash. Was Mom going to leave me now, too?

When I heard Anson's voice outside, I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and pushed open the door. I saw him follow Winona into her room.

He sounded anxious and concerned. "Winnie, what happened? Why is there blood on you? Let me see where you're hurt."

She squealed and said coyly, "Oh, Mr. Granger! That wouldn't be appropriate…"

My fingers curled against the cold wooden door. I stared at the long gashes on my arm and smiled bitterly. I was the one Anson was supposed to care about, not Winona, who acted like she owned the place.

I knocked hard on the door. Inside, Anson answered impatiently, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. "Who is it?"

I balled my hands into fists and said, "Anson, it's me. Let's get a divorce."