---- Chapter 8 | went back to the house. It was empty and silent, a museum of a life that was no longer mine. | methodically began to pack. | didn't pack everything. | only took what was truly mine. My clothes. My books. My art supplies. The things that belonged to Aurora Kemp, not Mrs. Ethan Bruce. Everything he had ever given me-the jewelry, the designer bags, the expensive gifts he' d bought out of guilt-I left behind. It took me three days to erase myself. When | was done, there was no trace of me left in that house. It was as if | had never lived there at all. On the third day, the day that would have been our make- believe anniversary, Ethan came back. He walked in carrying a bouquet of my favorite roses and a small, elegantly wrapped box. He was smiling. "Happy anniversary, Rory," he said, as if the last few days had never happened. | looked at the flowers, at the gift, at his smiling face, and | felt nothing. ---- | took the box from his hand and placed it back in his. "We're divorced, Ethan," | said, my voice calm and even. "There's nothing to celebrate." The smile vanished from his face. A flicker of panic entered his eyes. He hated not being in control. "Don't be like that, Rory," he said, grabbing my hand. "That night at the party... | know it was my fault. I'll make it up to you. | promise." He pulled me closer. "Her doctor says she just needs one more course of treatment. Then she'll be fine. Then we can get remarried, for the last time. | swear." | had heard that promise thirty-seven times before. This was the thirty-eighth. | didn't believe it anymore. | just shook my head. "I'm tired, Ethan," | said, pulling my hand away. "I'm tired of this life. 'm tired of the three of us. | just want it to be over." He misunderstood. He always did. He thought | was just angry, just throwing a tantrum. He set about trying to win me back. He cooked a fancy dinner, just the way | liked it. He lit candles. He opened a bottle of expensive wine. ---- He created a perfect, romantic scene. Fireworks exploded outside the window, a surprise he had arranged. Roses filled the air with their scent. The candlelight flickered across his handsome, earnest face. For a dizzying moment, | was thrown back in time, back to when we were young and in love and full of hope. Then | looked out the window again. And | saw her. llene. Standing in the garden, her face pressed against the glass, watching us. A ghost at the feast. The illusion shattered. | was back in the cold, hard present. It was all a lie. We could never go back. Ethan didn't see her. He was pouring me a glass of wine, his eyes full of a soft, gentle light. "After we remarry," he said, his voice low and dreamy, "let's have a baby, Rory. A little girl who looks just like you." "Ilene!" A choked, desperate cry from the garden. Ethan' s head snapped up. His eyes widened in shock. He didn't hesitate. He dropped the wine glass, which shattered on the floor, and ran outside. ---- | sat there, perfectly still, and watched them through the window. Watched him hold her as she sobbed. Watched him comfort her, his back to me. It was always the same story. | felt a strange sense of peace. It was finally, truly over. | stood up, picked up my purse, and walked to the door. | had just stepped outside, into the cool night air, when a van screeched to a halt beside me. The side door slid open. Two large men jumped out. They grabbed me. | didn't even have time to scream. They dragged me into the van and threw me onto the floor in the back. The van sped away, heading out of the city, toward the dark, empty countryside. | was pressed against the dirty floor, my heart pounding in my chest. | could see the men's faces in the dim light. Their eyes were greedy and cruel. "Don't worry, pretty lady," one of them sneered. "This is a gift from your friend, Ilene." He leaned closer, his breath hot and foul. "She said you made her suffer. Now it's your turn to pay. She said we should make you wish you were dead." ---- He laughed, a horrible, guttural sound. "She also said your husband loves you very, very much. So you must be good at what you do." His hand reached for the hem of my dress. "Why don't you show us how you please him?" His accomplice grinned, his eyes roaming over my body. He started to unbuckle his belt. | had never felt such terror. It was a cold, paralyzing wave that threatened to drown me. My mind reeled. | couldn't believe Ilene would do this. This was beyond manipulation. This was monstrous. | struggled, kicking and screaming, but they were too strong. They held me down easily. One of them ripped the sleeve of my dress. In my frantic struggle, my hand brushed against the small clutch purse | still had with me. My fingers closed around the hard, rectangular shape of my phone. Hope, fierce and desperate, surged through me. They were focused on tearing at my clothes. They didn't see me slide the phone out. My fingers, shaking uncontrollably, fumbled with the screen. | didn't dare call the police. They would hear me. ---- | hit the speed dial for Ethan. The phone rang. Once. Twice. No answer. They had my dress open now. A hand, rough and calloused, grabbed my leg. | felt sick. Nausea rose in my throat. "Come on, baby," the man sneered. "Your husband is probably busy with your friend Ilene right now. He doesn't have time for you The phone kept ringing, a desperate, unanswered plea in the dark. Then, it went to voicemail. He hadn't just ignored my call. He had rejected it. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!