The Runaway Wife He Claimed

The day I decided to leave my husband was the day he slapped me in front of our five-year-old daughter.

He came home a later than usual that night. I honestly thought Lily would've been asleep by then but the moment I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw her.

"Daddy!"

Her tiny voice burst through the foyer like sunshine after days of rain. She took off running toward him, her little arms thrown wide open, that huge grin on her face making the gap where her baby teeth had fallen out look even cuter.

My heart melted.

She'd been waiting for him all along even though it was past her bedtime. Because she still believed Daddy would come home and acknowledge her existence for once. Kids have that kind of hope. It's so fucking pure it hurts.

Then her tiny foot caught one of her toys and everything slowed. She pitched forward and hit the polished marble floor with a sickening thud.

"M-Mommy..."

Her little voice shook. Barely a whisper. Tears filled her eyes almost instantly, and her bottom lip wobbled as she fought so hard not to cry.

As for Matthew, he didn't even stop. He just walked right past her. Like she was nothing more than another piece of furniture sitting in the goddamn house.

My chest burned so badly it hurt to breathe. Tell me... how the hell does a father do that? How do you hear your own child crying and just... keep walking?

I rushed over before Lily could cry any harder and scooped her into my arms. The second I held her, she buried her tiny face against my shoulder, her little body shaking so hard it nearly broke me.

"It's okay, sweetheart," I whispered, kissing the top of her head.

My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. Not in front of her. Then I looked at Matthew.

"She only wanted a hug from her father." My voice came out quieter than I'd expected.

He stopped halfway up the stairs.

"Did you say something?" His voice was low. Dangerously low.

Every word came through clenched teeth, his jaw ticking like I'd committed some unforgivable crime just by opening my mouth.

I looked him right in the eye and repeated.

"She only wanted a hug from her father."

For a few seconds...He just stared at me.

Then he let out this cold, empty laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"You're questioning how I treat my daughter now?"

"I'm asking you to treat her like she's your daughter and not—"

I never got to finish. His hand slammed across my face so hard my head whipped to the side. Pain exploded through my cheek. For a second, all I could hear was the sharp ringing in my ears.

My fingers curled into trembling fists. I wasn't shocked he'd hit me. That part no longer surprised me.

But doing it in front of our daughter…

"Daddy!" Lily's frightened sniffs broke through the silence.

Then she burst into uncontrollable sobs. Each cry stabbed straight through my heart.

Matthew didn't even flinch. He looked at me as though I were the one who had ruined the evening.

"Meet me in the bedroom." Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked upstairs.

I couldn't even move. I held Lily in my arms while tears burned behind my eyes, begging to fall.

It wasn't because he'd slapped me. God... I wish that was the part that hurt. I stopped caring about his hands a long time ago.

What fucking broke me...

...was that my little girl had just watched her father hit her mother.

She'd seen with her baby eyes. And no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn't erase that memory for her.

Kids remembered things like this. Sometimes… Forever.

"Mrs. Rodriguez..." Kayla, Lily's nanny, hurried over and gently lifted Lily out of my arms.

The second she did, Lily reached for me again.

"M-Mommy..." Those tiny little hands stretched toward me, trembling. Her cheeks were soaked with tears.

Every part of me screamed to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Even if it was just a stupid lie.

But Matthew had called for me. And if I kept him waiting… I knew exactly what would happen.

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat and forced my feet toward the staircase.

By the time I entered our bedroom, Matthew had already removed his shirt, exposing the hard planes of his chest and sculpted abs.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows with his back partially turned to me, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored trousers while the other lazily swirled a glass of deep crimson wine.

He didn't turn around at first. He simply took a sip before speaking.

"Close the door." I obeyed.

For several long seconds, he said nothing. The silence stretched until it became unbearable. Then he finally faced me. His eyes were cold as usual and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"Come here."

My stomach tightened as I did as he said until I was standing directly in front of him. His eyes slowly swept over me, filled with nothing but contempt.

"Kneel." The single word hit me harder than his slap downstairs.

My fingers trembled as I looked down. I didn't want to do it. But disobeying him would only make things worse.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto the cold marble floor. He looked down at me like I was exactly where I belonged.

"Do you know why I married you?"

I stayed silent, my head bowed.

"I asked you a question." He raged.

"Because your father forced you." I replied, my voice shaky.

“Exactly." He gave a single nod. Then crouched in front of me and gripped my chin hard enough to hurt.

"You were never my choice, Amelia." His grip tightened.

He was right. Six years ago, we'd been in love. At least, I thought we were..Then I got pregnant.

His father forced him to marry me to avoid a scandal. I ignored every threat Matthew spilled on me because I wanted my daughter to grow up with both parents. But Instead, I trapped us both in a nightmare.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against my face. "So don't ever embarrass me in front of the staff again."

"There weren't any staff there," I whispered before I could stop myself.

"Shut the hell up you stupid piece of shit.” His eyes darkened. He released my chin with a shove, sending me off balance.

"You live in my house. My name feeds you. My money clothes you. If I tell you to disappear tomorrow, you'll leave with nothing. And don't even think about using Lily against me." He warned, standing up like he was some kind of God looking down on a disgusting sinner.

My heart skipped a beat.

"If you ever try to leave, I'll kill you and bury your bones in the backyard." He added,

The room spun. I looked up at him, lips quivering. "You wouldn't—" my voice broke.

"I would." His voice was calm, like he was enjoying every moment of making me feel small. “So stay the fuck away from me.

He walked past me, stopping at the bathroom door.

"Oh..." He glanced over his shoulder. "I've invited someone over tonight. Stay out of my room.”

Then he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me kneeling on the cold floor long after the sound of running water filled the silence.

That night, I stayed in Lily's room.

He and his bitch were probably having sex in our matrimonial bed although the soundproof walls in Lily's room spared me from hearing them.

He had insisted on it while the mansion was still under construction. Back then, I'd thought it was because he wanted Lily to sleep peacefully. Now I knew the truth.

My heart felt impossibly heavy as I held my daughter close. Lily, who was still awake, turned to face me.

"Mommy," she whispered. "Why did Daddy hit you?”

The question stole every word from my mouth. She wasn't supposed to see that. She wasn't supposed to grow up knowing her father was a monster.

"No, baby." I forced a smile. "Go to sleep, okay? Mommy will be fine."

I kissed her forehead and gently covered her eyes with my hand.

This time, she kept them closed but there was still fluttering slightly.

Only after I was sure Lily had finally fallen asleep did I let my eyes close.

My throat was dry as hell..I needed water.

I should've gone to the kitchen. But I couldn't make myself leave her room.

I didn't want to hear whatever bullshit Matthew and his mistress were probably doing upstairs. And Matthew...Well, he always liked to fuck rough.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket a little higher, but sleep wouldn't come. My mind refused to shut the hell up.

For almost two years, Matthew hadn't touched me.

Before that? Uhmm..he'd slept with me during the first few years of our marriage, but it had always felt like another item on his to-do list.

Quick. Cold. Mechanical. Like he couldn't wait for it to be over.

Back then, I'd cried myself to sleep more nights than I could count.

Pathetic, right? Waiting for a man who'd already stopped choosing me.

But that wasn't me anymore. I forgave the neglect. I forgave the cruel words. I even forgave the affairs.

But today… Today was different.

Slapping me was one thing. Doing it in front of our daughter?

That crossed a line he could never fucking uncross.

And for the first time in years...

I knew, deep down, there wasn't enough love left in me to forgive him again.