From Wife to Blood Bag

Chapter 4

The car rolled up to the Thorpe family villa just as dusk settled over the estate.

Xavier Thorpe carefully helped Natalie Reynolds out of the car, her morning sickness clearly taking its toll, but he didn't spare me a single glance.

"Rest in the master bedroom," he murmured to Natalie, then turned to the cook. "Prepare something appetizing."

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I silently made my way to the guest bedroom.

As soon as the door closed, I heard Xavier's voice again.

"Add two more dishes—Madam's favorites."

The moment the door shut, my legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.

When I opened my suitcase, my heart sank—every single piece of clothing had been shredded.

But at least my passport and important documents were untouched, safely hidden in a secret compartment.

"Oh, packing already?" Natalie's voice oozed with mockery as she leaned against the doorframe, twirling a black glass bottle between her fingers.

"Sophia Sinclair, you really have no shame. The entire elite circle is laughing at you, yet you still refuse to leave?"

She shook her phone, the screen flashing a picture of her and Xavier locked in a kiss.

"Do you know why Xavier refused to take you to see your dying grandmother that day? Because he was busy watching the sunset with me."

The glass bottle slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. The pungent stench of gasoline filled the room almost instantly.

I lunged at her, my hands closing around her throat.

In the chaos, Natalie knocked over a candleholder. Flames erupted within seconds.

Through the smoke, I heard Xavier's anguished scream.

"Sophia!"

"Sir, it's too dangerous!" The servants tried to pull him back.

"Get out of my way!" His voice was sharp, desperate.

Footsteps pounded closer—only to change direction when he spotted Natalie.

I watched in numb disbelief as Xavier scooped her up in his arms and fled without a second glance.

As the fire raged, I pressed a wet towel to my face, grabbed my suitcase, and made my way out through the back door.

In the airport departure lounge, I coughed violently, my chest tight as I mailed the divorce papers before boarding my flight to London.

Just before I powered off my phone, one last message popped up on the screen:

[Taking Natalie for her prenatal checkup tomorrow. Get your lungs checked while you're at it.]

With a bitter laugh, I snapped the SIM card in half and tossed it in the trash.

Xavier Thorpe, this farce of a marriage ends here.