When I Finally Stopped Begging

Rowyn’s POV

I stared at the message, numb, tears blurring the screen.

Chelsea grabbed my chin and yanked my face up.

"Rowyn, did you forget you're still begging me to sign Frederick's emergency treatment consent? Apologize!"

Then she saw my tears and froze.

Disgust flashed across her face. She shoved me away and dropped her voice.

"Enough. Quit playing the victim. Make my baby happy, and I'll get your dad the best medical team money can buy. I'll sign anything!"

But I didn't need her signature anymore.

Except...

On the divorce papers.

I looked up, bitter. "You'll really sign anything?"

Before she could answer, I pulled out the divorce papers I'd had ready for ages.

Then I stepped closer and offered him the side of my face that wasn't already swollen.

My voice came out rough.

"I'm sorry. I was way out of line. I disrespected your relationship. Please forgive me."

Chelsea's face darkened. "Louder!"

"I'm sorry! I was wrong!"

Smack!

Pain exploded across my face.

Then a nasty stench hit me.

My eyes snapped open.

A ripped pair of men's underwear slid off my cheek and hit the floor, leaving a gross smear behind.

Chelsea's new college boy toy, Nash Buckley, cocked his head like he hadn't done a thing.

"Rowyn, what's an apology gonna fix? If you're a man, prove you're sorry."

He clung to Chelsea's arm.

"Chelsea, you helped me try on all these clothes in the fitting room. I got them dirty by accident, but I can't bring myself to toss them."

He glanced at me.

"Why not make him wash them?"

The clothes all over the floor reeked so bad my eyes stung.

I'd swallowed my pride for years, but Chelsea had at least let me keep some dignity as her husband.

Now I had to clean up after her side piece too?

My fists clenched.

Then Chelsea noticed the papers in my hand. She clearly thought they were another consent form for some insanely expensive treatment.

Her face went cold. "What are you waiting for? Don't you want to save your dad?

"Or are your feelings hurt? Rowyn, when you kept me from seeing my dad one last time, did you ever think this day would come?"

Grief slammed into me.

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat.

I didn't argue.

I just picked up the pants and undershirts off the floor, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door.

A muffled thump hit the door.

"Chelsea, want more already? I can keep going."

I glanced back.

Nash had Chelsea pinned against the door. She looked at me through hazy eyes, pure mockery on her face.

Our eyes met.

And suddenly, I was back on that stormy night years ago.

In front of the blazing cremation furnace, she'd clawed at my face like she'd lost it.

"Rowyn Reynaud, you knew my dad was dying and kept it from me for money? What the hell kind of person does that?"