4. MATT SUMMERS

CHAPTER 4- MATT SUMMERS

(Jen's POV)

He was home.

That was the first thought that came to my mind once I saw my husband's white Range Rover from the distance.

Right there and then, I began to panic.

He had lied to me.

The question was why? Because for all I knew, my husband, Matt Summers, was not supposed to be back from his work trip until Saturday, and it was only Thursday. Under normal circumstances, I shouldn’t have had to be that apprehensive in receiving help from people of the opposite sex, especially when I knew that my husband was out of town, but experience had thought me that he had eyes on me even when he was gone, and that everything I did would someway somehow get to him. It was why I was always careful, but now he was home... and on the one time I'd truly fucked up too.

See, I knew that my boss, Mr. Blackwell could sense my nervousness even though I tried my best to hide it, but if he did, he was quiet about it. For that, I was grateful.

The call that came through for the boss was seriously a saving grace… one that I actively took advantage of, because in all honesty, I was in no way ready to make an introduction especially when I knew it could very well offset Matt even further... and so I quickly mumbled something that sounded like a good bye, and headed indoors, hoping to the heavens that my husband hadn’t heard us pull up, but fate was not on my side. He was sitting in our beautiful living room, looking resplendent in a casual dark blue cashmere sweater and some comfortable khaki slacks when I got in.

Shit.

“Oh, hey honey,” I feigned surprise, planting a lovely smile on my face, even though I was seriously shaking on the inside. “You’re back, I was not expecting you to be back until Saturday, but I’m excited to have you home nonetheless.”

“Are you though?” He asked calmly, softly as he pressed his phone absentmindedly, not bothering to shoot me a look. I shot him a look of confusion. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me, I said are you really happy that I'm back home?”

“I—”

“Or just disappointed that I’ve ruined what could have been a lovely evening for you and your lover who for some reason is still parked outside my house?” This time he looked up at me, his blue eyes shining with so much anger.

I'm not going to lie, my heart broke. Matt Summers. My once loving, doting husband.

You know, I had seen the signs that had led right to this moment during our courtship, but like every fool in love, I had brushed it off, classifying it as him being adorably possessive.

I saw how foolish I had been now.

I knew I should have kept my big mouth shut, but I suddenly had this inexplicable urge to defend myself and my boss, and so I said, “He is not my lover, Matt… come on, why would you say this? That’s my boss, and he was kind enough to drop me off,” Matt stood up, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to stop the word vomit that seemed to be streaking out of my mouth, “My car broke down at the office today, and I was the only person left at the office, there were no cars available, but just when I was about to lose hope, he showed up and offered to bring me home—” The slap was quick, and sudden, and effective… apparently that was all I needed to end my nonstop ramblings. A soft whimper escaped my lips, even as the tears stood in my eyes, but I willed myself not to let them drop. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, and so I just stood there, watching him as I clung to my cheek… the same cheek that was still recovering from Kitty’s slap.

You know, such was my secret life… enduring abuse upon abuse from my husband. Mental and physical, and the occasional sexual abuse… but I had learnt to live with it, learnt to put up with it, learnt to endure it, learnt to put up a smile on my face and convince the entire world and my family that I was living my best life at my husband’s side, when deep down, I was slowly dying on the inside.

My Matt.

The change had been gradual at first, but then it had crept up on me almost suddenly, shocking me to my core. He had been super remorseful when it had first happened… I remembered it very well, we had gone out to celebrate our two year anniversary, and he had left to use the washroom when a guy had mustered the courage to come to our table to ask for my number. I had refused, of course… but he had been so charming, taking his failure so lightly that I had burst out in a fit of giggles at his antics. Matt had walked out in that moment, and had angrily yelled at me, calling me the most derogatory terms, and then he had attacked the poor man without a word. Thankfully, the gentleman had not pressed any charges, but I had been so shaken up and embarrased that I'd asked to go home immediately. Matt had apologised all night, but I ignored him all week. He had been remorseful, so remorseful, going full out to give the man a handsome settlement, lavishing me with the most expensive of gifts, promising me that it was never going to happen again. But it had…

Again and again and again.

Oh, now he did not even apologise anymore. He threatened. And I was wise enough to know that no one was going to stand by my side when it truly came down to it... so I stayed, fully determined to endure to the end.

But today, I'd had enough.

Oh, I really had.

“Look Matt,” I told him tiredly, looking up at him with this defiant gleam in my eyes, “I. Have. Had enough.” I whispered, “You can do your worst… carry out all of your threats, see if I care… all I know is that, I am not staying under this roof with you tonight.” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand roughly, it was certainly going to leave a bruise, but I did not even care. “Where do you think you’re going?” He growled angrily, “Away from you.” I retorted, my head held high, “Away from this.”

“Like hell you are, you swore to be with me to the end!” He roared, shaking me viciously as though I were some limp rag doll. “Maybe this, is the end.”

My lashing out had triggered something in his eyes, I could see it... I could feel it, and it chilled me to my bones. By the time I knew it, he was holding me by the neck, “Remember the vows we shared?” He asked sardonically, tightening his grasp on my throat, “Till death do us part. That is the only way you can be done with this, Jennifer, and since you have asked so nicely, I will help you fulfil that wish.”

Tears stood in my eyes as I choked, feeling my throat close up, cutting off my air's circulation. I struggled against him, but nothing I did was working. Feeling around for something... anything I could use to counter his attack, a sigh of relief escaped my lips as I thankfully grabbed a flower vase. I flung it at his head, and took advantage of the brief respite to flee to the door even as I screamed for help, but he was faster… he grabbed me roughly just before I could make it, punching me squarely in the right eye and then on my left jaw, “Running to your lover, aren’t you?”

This time, the tears slid down my bruised face. I had tried so much to be strong, but I just couldn't take it anymore. If I was hoping that the tears would warm my husband's heart, then I was delusional, for he only closed his fingers around my bruised neck once more, “For the last time, answer me Jennifer, else I will strangle you to death. Who. The . Fuck. Is. That. Man?”

Even if I wanted to answer, I couldn’t with the way my throat had closed up like that, and so I stood there, choking, my breath slowly cutting off.

The door to the hallway opened suddenly, and Adonis Blackwell raced into the room, charging right for my husband with an angry growl of indignation, tearing his hands away from my neck. Help had come! I slumped to the floor as my breath came rushing back, my lungs on fire as it worked overtime to replace all that had been lost. It was funny, but my boss had never met her husband, and ironically, their first introduction was him introducing his fists to the bastard’s face. In that moment, I found that observation oddly amusing and comforting.

Mr. Blackwell was relentless in attacking my husband, throwing punch after punch, evading every kick and jab. He fought like he was born to fight… like a professional wrestler, filled with so much lithe and grace, and in that moment, I could only thank God for bringing him to save my life.

One particular blow completely knocked my husband out finally, and then the boss was by my side in a minute. “Mrs. Summers— Jen, easy, easy… you’re safe now. Come on stay with me, help will soon be on the way,” But I barely heard him.

The darkness was calling out to me, and for now, it was my only saving grace.