61

Chapter 61

Brittany’s Pov

The morning sunlight filled the room through the curtain, hitting straight to my closed lids.

My head aches like it would split open. My mouth was dry. My body hurts too. I sat up and noticed I was completely naked under unfamiliar sheets.

Panic hit first, then confusion.

Where am I?

The room was fancy — an upscale hotel I didn’t know. My clothes were scattered on the floor. I could only remember a little of last night.

I remembered sitting at a bar, drinking martinis, talking with Vivienne about the gala. Then after she left, I kept drinking. Then I met a man.

Oh no. The man.

I had gone upstairs with someone. We kissed. Made love. The man fucked me like he missed me. Last night was magic. I admit.

I held the sheet closer to my chest and I looked around the room. He had to be gone. Maybe I could get dressed and leave before anyone noticed.

“Good morning, Brittany.” The voice came from the bathroom.

A man walked in. He was perfectly dressed, calm, and he knew my name. My stomach dropped.

“Please, who are you?” I said, in a low voice that was not steady. "And... you know my name?"

"Yes Brittany," He smiled like he is the owner of the building. “It’s me. Have you forgotten so fast?”

Something about him seemed familiar. Then he said, “It’s me, Brittany. Marcus.”

Marcus. My ex-husband. The one I divorced five years ago. The one I had tried to erase from my life.

But this wasn’t the broke, bitter man I remembered. This man wore a custom suit, an expensive watch, and fine shoes. He looked wealthy.

“I… I barely recognized you,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve changed. A lot has happened in five years.”

My hands shook as I grabbed clothes from the floor. “What did we do?” I asked.

His smile widened. “We had sex, Brittany. You were eager. Alcohol helped, I guess.”

Nausea rolled through me. I dressed quickly, clutching my dignity. He watched me like a predator.

“You still look beautiful,” he said casually. “Marriage to wealth suits you.”

“We’re divorced, Marcus,” I said, trying to be firm. “We signed the papers five years ago. Whatever happened was a mistake. A drunk mistake.”

“A mistake?” He laughed. “That’s not all the sweet things you were saying last night. You even asked me to fuck you harder, so where's this hatred coming from?”

“Stop.” I raised my hand. “Marcus, what are you doing in town?”

He leaned against the desk like we were having a normal talk. “I heard interesting rumors. Brittany Hawthorne marrying Darcy Rodrigo. He’s rich, isn’t he?”

“That’s none of your business,” I said.

“But it is now. I’m rich too.” He said it proudly. “Richer than I was when we were married. And Darcy and I have a business deal next month. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

My heart dropped. “What?”

“Rodrigo Industries is partnering with my company. We’ve been negotiating for weeks.”

“Why tell me this?” I asked, slipping my shoes on.

“Because you have options.” He moved closer. “Why marry Darcy when I’m here? I can give you everything. I’ve missed you.”

“Stop it,” I said. “What we had is over.”

“Is it?” He smiled that cruel smile. “Last night proved otherwise.”

“I was drunk. I didn’t even recognize you.”

“Does that make it better or worse?” he said. “Either way— we had sex. It was good.”

I swallowed hard. “Marcus, our divorce wasn’t about money. You abused me. Domestic violence. You hurt me and controlled me. I left.”

His face went cold. “That was the past.”

“The past doesn’t just disappear.”

He moved closer. I backed away. “Don’t come closer.”

“Why not? You’re my wife.”

“Ex-wife.”

“A mere technicality.”

“Don’t touch me.” I warned, voice trembling.

He ignored me and reached for my wrist. Pain shot up where his fingers dug in. Old memories rushed back to my mind.

The way he holds me, the way he threatens me. He even fucked over women in our matrimonial bed and chase me out to sleep on the cold bed. The times I hid bruises and put on a smile just to cover them. My parents advised me not to get marrìed to Marcus. I was stubborn and also in love.

“Let me go Marcus,” I said, trying so hard to be calm. “Let me go now or I’ll scream.”

“No one will hear you. These rooms are soundproof. I made sure of that.”

My hand dove into my purse. I always carry pepper spray now. My fingers were around the small canister. My last hope

“You don't get to walk out on me, Brittany,” he said, pulling me closer. “You belong to me. You always will.”

I aimed and sprayed. He screamed and released me.

I ran. I didn’t look back.

My heels clicked as I ran to the bar. People stared, but I only wanted to get home.

I ran out through the hotel doors as the bright morning light touched my face.

My driver was waiting, ready to zoom off immediately. I entered the car, just where I’d told him to be. “Ms. Hawthorne!” he said, jumping out. “Are you okay?”

“Drive,” I panted, throwing myself into the backseat. “Just go.”

He didn’t ask. He jumped in and sped off. Tires squealed. I kept looking back, waiting for Marcus to come running out. The hotel entrance stayed empty. I cried, but I felt safer. For now.

When we were several blocks away the adrenaline faded and my body shook. Tears fell before I could stop them. I felt dirty and used. I had slept with Marcus — the man who had ruined years of my life. I didn’t remember most of it. An abuser

“Ms Brittany, do you want me to take you to a hospital?” my driver asked.

“No. Just home,” I said, though my voice cracked.

The rest of the drive blurred. Memories I had buried came flooding back — his grip, walls slamming, the night he put his hand around my throat when I asked for a divorce. The bruises I hid. The lies I told to survive. The smile I wore while I died inside.

I had escaped him once. I had rebuilt my life. Now, in one drunken mistake, I’d let him back in.

I remember it was because of my father that he stopped following me. He stopped threatening me because my father involved himself.

When the car pulled up outside my father's building I felt like I could fall. “Ms. Brittany, let me assist you, please” he said,softly.

“No,I’m fine,” I said. I can manage. I just need to be inside alone. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially when mum asks you, please.”

He nodded and helped me to the door. I unlocked the chain behind me and went straight to my bar. I took out the first bottle I found. A whiskey and drank from it. The burn helped focus my numbness.

Marcus had a business deal with Darcy. Marcus thought we could start over. Money hadn’t fixed him. If anything, money made him more dangerous. He had resources now. He could make my life worse in ways he couldn’t before.

I drank and pulled myself together. I wouldn’t be a victim again.

I called Luis. He answered on the second ring. “Ms. Hawthorne? Is everything all right?”

“I need you to do something. Now,” I said.

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I’m sending a photo. The man is Marcus Ton, my ex-husband. He’s back in the city. I need everything about him. Where he lives. What business he runs. Where his money came from. Every detail. I want a full report by tomorrow night. Before the gala.”

There was a very long pause. “That’s a lot.”

“Do it, Luis,” I said. “I don’t care how much money it'd cost.”

“I’ll get it started at once, Ms Brittany..”

I hung up and took another drink. My hands still shook, but my voice was calm now. Fury steadied me. I'll never allow an abuser to walk back into my life because he's rich now. I'll not allow him to control me again.

We are divorced. Five years ago were the worst years of my life. Thank God my parents forgave me and brought me out of that horrible marriage. This is also the reason why I have to marry Darcy to make my parents proud and also for security.

If he tried to hurt me or Darcy, I would stop him. I would destroy what he had built. I would make him powerless.

I closed my eyes and whispered, “You won’t hurt me again, Marcus.” The words felt real. I meant them.

Then I set my jaw and began to plan.

When Luis sends me his details, I'll make sure I cripple his business. Set him up. I won't mercy. I'll make him suffer until he dies.