I Faked An Injury To Escape My Abusive Billionaire Husband. But The Er Doctor Just Revealed A Dark Secret About My Husband’s First Wife. How Do I Go Back To That House Now?
The Performance
I had already showered, put on a modest nightgown, and was waiting for the sound of Preston’s car pulling into the garage. Around 6:00, the smooth purr of the engine arrived. There he is, I thought. The great master has returned.
I heard his footsteps enter the house, heard him greet the housekeeper with his usual cold tone. I stood in the bathroom right at the edge of the trap I had set. I took a deep breath, praying silently that my bones were strong and that nothing would break permanently.
The moment I heard the bedroom doorknob turn, I knew it was time. This was the greatest performance of my life. And what a shame there would be no Oscar for the category of best actress in a faked fall.
“Preston, you’re home,” I called out from the bathroom, getting his attention.
Then, without another moment of hesitation, I stepped my right foot directly onto the puddle of soap. My balance vanished instantly. The world spun wildly.
My feet slid out from under me and my body was airborne for a split second before gravity yanked me mercilessly downward. My back and hips slammed into the marble floor with a sickening thud loud enough to make anyone who heard it cringe. I screamed a loud piercing scream,.
It was partly from the genuine shock and pain, but partly dramatized to ensure it reached the security guard’s post at the gate. The sound of my body hitting the marble floor silenced the entire house. The pain was extraordinary, like being hit with a sledgehammer in the lower back.
My vision swam with black spots, but I had to stay focused. I squeezed my eyes shut, controlled my breathing to make it seem shallow, and relaxed every muscle in my body. I had to be unconscious.
I had to look helpless. If I just woke up moaning in pain, Preston would probably just tell me to rub some ointment on it and scold me for being clumsy. No, I had to make this look severe.
I had to make him panic. Preston burst in, his face paler than a hospital wall when he saw me lying motionless on the floor. I could feel the vibration of his hurried footsteps approaching,.
“Ellie, Ellie,” His voice was laced with panic, not the sad panic of a man whose beloved wife had fallen. I was sure of that.
He was panicking at the thought of me dying here. The police would come, the media would come, and his perfect life would be torn apart. He slapped my cheek a little too hard, really. Such rough hands.
“Ellie, wake up. Don’t you dare cause trouble now,” He hissed.
Ah, even his first words were selfish. He felt for my pulse. His hand was trembling.
Good, Preston, tremble. Because from this day forward, it’s your turn to feel uneasy. Preston might have been a pro at carrying the weight of his ego, but when it came to lifting the limp body of his wife, he had no talent whatsoever.
I could feel his exasperated breath on my ear as he struggled to haul me up, my body deliberately as floppy as possible. Instead of worrying if I had broken a rib, he was busy muttering under his breath about how inconvenient this whole situation was. His hands gripped my arms stiffly as if he were carrying a leaking bag of rice that needed to be moved before it dirtied his precious marble floors,.
I wanted so badly to laugh at his struggle. But of course, I had to suppress it with all my might or this whole act would fall apart before it even began. Preston yelled for our driver in a tone that could wake the dead.
The Ride to Freedom
Manny, our old loyal driver who was often the target of Preston’s tirades, came running into the house out of breath. I heard his heavy footsteps on the floor.
“Sir, what happened to ma’am?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Preston cut him off with a bark. “Don’t ask questions. Get the car ready now. Open the back door wide, quickly.”
His command was short, sharp, and full of irritation. Manny was just asking out of concern, but in Preston’s eyes, the concern of an employee was just an annoyance. I was sure Manny was now scurrying to the garage, mumbling prayers that he wouldn’t get yelled at again today.
The process of moving my body from the bathroom floor to the car was its own form of torture that I had to endure for my ticket to freedom. Preston lifted me roughly. There was no gentleness at all, as if I were a piece of scrap metal being tossed into a junk pile,.
My head bumped lightly against the door frame as he carried me out and I had to bite my own tongue to keep from crying out. The pain was enough to make me dizzy but it was a worthy price for my grand plan. He carried me down the main staircase of our mansion.
Each of his steps felt like a jolt causing my hip that had hit the floor to throb with renewed pain. Once we reached the car, Preston practically threw my body onto the back seat with all the grace of a charging rhinoceros. I landed on the expensive leather in a rather uncomfortable position but I didn’t dare adjust myself.
“Go Manny, drive fast. But don’t you dare scratch the car,” Preston ordered, slamming the car door right next to my ear.
The luxury car then sped out of the gates of our fortress. Inside the car, the tension was suffocating. I kept my eyes closed, regulating my breathing to remain shallow and weak,.
Meanwhile, Preston was busy wiping the sweat from his own forehead, not once checking to see if I was still breathing. His priority was always and only himself. Even in an emergency like this, throughout the drive, Preston endlessly cursed at the traffic, which was perfectly normal for rush hour.
He was angry at a motorcycle that passed us, angry at a red light he thought was too long, and even angry at a hot dog vendor casually crossing the street.
“Get out of the way! You people don’t know the rules,” he muttered at the other drivers who couldn’t hear him.
How ironic. He was angry at people who didn’t follow the rules, when at home he was the number one violator of basic human rights. I could only listen to his ranting while fighting off nausea from Manny’s forced reckless driving.
