Disgraced

Melissa.

"Mrs. Melissa Fitzpatrick." I muttered under my breath.

I stared at the ring on my finger, still in shock from everything that had happened in the past few hours. I couldn't believe I'd gone from married to divorced to married again in the span of a day. My life was really one big mess.

"We're here," my new husband said from my side.

I glanced up, only just realizing that the car had pulled to a stop. I'd barely had time to sign the five year marriage contract and redo my mascara before Logan had dragged me to his car and informed me that we had somewhere to be.

"Oh wow," I exclaimed as I stepped down from the car and stared at the magnificent building before me.

"Come on," he said impatiently, heading for the stairs leading up to the large front doors.

Inside the building was just as perfect as the outside, with glittering chandeliers, dark green curtains, and thick rugs, expensive paintings and pottery. I trailed after Logan, too distracted to take note of the voices coming from the room till it was too late.

"Good evening," my husband said, prompting eight pairs of eyes to turn in our direction.

I felt frozen to the ground as the occupants of the room took in my less than perfect dress and hair, and my knock off shoes. Logan must have noticed my shock, because he took my hand and pulled me to one of the chairs.

"Logan, what's this? Who's this tramp?" An older woman with smooth silver blonde hair asked, staring at me like I was the dirt under her shoe.

"Everyone, meet Melissa, the newest Fitzpatrick, and my wife."

With those words, chaos immediately exploded in the room.

"Over my dead body!" The woman jumped to her feet.

"What's the meaning of this nonsense?" The older man who I assumed was the father snapped to his feet, his palms slapping down on the table and rattling all the dishes.

"How dare you insult this family in such a way?" A younger woman with piercing blue eyes and dark brown hair spat.

A similar looking woman with hair cut in a bob rose up too, "I'm calling security."

Their furious words interlaced against each others, and I felt like crawling under the table in shame as they spat acrid insult upon acrid insult at me. A glance at Logan showed that he was calmly tucking a napkin into his collar and dishing out some food for himself. He looked the picture of calm. Had he just married me and brought me here to be humiliated?

Well, he could go to hell.

I made to stand up, but his hand immediately gripped my knee on the table, holding me down. Electricity crackled over my flesh, goosebumps rising from that small contact.

"Enough," he didn't shout the words, but the authority in them carried across the room like a gunshot, shutting everybody else up.

"You're engaged to Dahlia," his mother said, "How dare you call off the engagement in such a callous way? What would the family think about such pesky behavior?"

"I don't care what the family thinks." Came his careless reply.

"You'll divorce this good for nothing, gold digging low life immediately," his father ordered, "And you better hope that news of this nonsense hasn't spread. What were you thinking? I can't believe that at this point in your life, you'd still make such silly mistakes."

Logan dropped his fork and stared his father down, "It's not a mistake, father. I'm married to Melissa, and I'm not divorcing her. I never agreed to being engaged to Dahlia, so this shouldn't come as a surprise to her."

"Girl, you've made a terrible mistake coming here," a man who resembled my husband closely sneered, "I'm going to ruin your life and_"

Before he could say more, the door flung open and the sound of a man's laughter rang out across the house, "Don't tell me the party's started without me."

I froze. Oh God. It couldn't be.

I suddenly felt sick as an older man came into view. The man was in his forties, with dark brown hair that had began to go grey at the temples, and I knew him... Intimately.

"What's the matter?" Logan asked me, looking confused.

"I need to get out of here," I croaked, trying to grab my bag.

I ended up bumping a glass of wine and it crashed to the ground, drawing the new comer's attention to where I sat. Recognition immediately filled his eyes.

"What is Dean Garrett's wife doing at our dinner table?" He growled.

"I'm n-not_" I began to stammer when everyone looked at me curiously.

"She's my wife." The man at my side announced.

"Don't tell me you married this whore!" The older man's face twisted with disgust, "She's been passed around New York like the cup at a holy communion."

Gasps went up around the room while I prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me.

"What do you mean by that?" Mrs. Fitzpatrick asked, eyes narrowed.

"She's famous," he laughed, "Her own husband pimps her out to advance his career."

Blood drained from my face at the way everyone was staring at me, expressions ranging from horror to disgust to pity. I knew I couldn't be here a second longer. Grabbing my purse, I immediately jumped to my feet and fled, ignoring the snickers and Logan roaring my name.

I didn't need him for my revenge. I'd find another way.

Tears blurred my vision as I raced down the pristine hallways and out of the house. It seemed that every corner I turned, the only thing that awaited me was pain and ridicule. What was left for me anyway?

So distracted by my thoughts, I didn't realize I was standing in the middle of the street, and neither did I hear the sound of the truck honking until it's bright headlights blinded me. I turned wide eyed and watched the vehicle move closer and closer. And then I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared to die.