Claimed by his obsession

"Get out."

Two words. That was all it took for my entire life to faceplant into the dirt.

I stood there, staring at the man I’d called my husband for three years, and for a second, I actually thought I’d misheard him.

Because I was the one who just walked in on him; I was the one standing in the middle of our matrimonial bedroom watching his assistant scramble to pull a silk sheet over her stupid fake tits.

"Are you kidding me right now, Marcus?" My voice cracked, and I hated it.

Marcus didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He just sat up, leaning back against the headboard I’d picked out for our anniversary.

"You heard me, Sophia. I’m done. This marriage has been dead weight for a year, anyway," he said, sounding so casual as if he were ordering a coffee.

"Dead weight? You were inside her five minutes ago in our bed!"

"Lower your voice," he snapped. "You’re making a scene."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to lunge across the room and claw that smug look off his face, but the door behind me creaked open.

Enter the wicked witch of the west.

My mother-in-law, Victoria, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't look surprised. She looked… satisfied.

"You heard my son, didn't you? Pack your things and leave," Victoria said. Her eyes traveled down my body like I was something she’d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"Victoria, he’s cheating! He’s literally in bed with another woman right now!" I pointed a shaking finger at the bed.

The assistant, Natalie, actually had the nerve to look at me with pity.

"Don’t be dramatic, Sophia. It’s not like you were ever a real wife to him," Victoria sneered. "You’ve spent three years bleeding this family dry. You’re nothing but a glorified gold digger who finally ran out of luck."

Gold digger? It's ironic how that name wasn't in the list of things I'd ever thought I'd one day be called.

"I gave up my career for this family! I supported him when he had nothing!"

"You supported a Vale," Victoria corrected, stepping into the room to grab my arm. "And now you’re leaving. Marcus has already signed the papers."

"What papers? I haven't seen any papers!"

Marcus finally looked at me, his eyes cold and empty. "They’re on the vanity. Don't worry, I made sure you’re taken care of. Now, go."

I looked at the vanity. There was a thin folder—zero alimony. No assets.

Before I could even process the situation, Victoria was shoving me toward the closet.

"One suitcase," she barked. "And don't even think about touching the jewelry. Those are family heirlooms, not parting gifts for a failed social climber."

I was numb. I felt like I was watching someone else’s life go up in flames.

I grabbed the first suitcase I could find—an old, dusty thing with a crack along the side—and threw whatever I could reach into it.

I didn't even look at what I was grabbing. A few sweaters. Jeans. Some old photos.

I was shaking so hard I could barely zip the thing shut. My breath was coming in short, jagged gasps that made my chest ache.

"Move it, Sophia. The car is waiting to take you to the gate," Victoria said, literally nudging me toward the stairs.

"Marcus, look at me!" I yelled back toward the bedroom.

He didn't even look up from his phone. He was probably already texting Natalie about what they were going to have for dinner.

The walk down the grand staircase felt like a walk of shame. The staff was lined up in the hall, their eyes averted.

They all knew this was coming, and nobody had warned me.

Victoria didn't even wait for the car. She marched me straight to the front door and pushed me out onto the porch.

"Don't come back. If I see your face on this property again, I'll have the guards treat you like the trespasser you are," she spat.

The door slammed shut in my face. The sound echoed in my head.

And then, because the universe clearly has a sick sense of humor, it started to pour.

Within seconds, my hair was plastered to my face,e and my clothes were soaked through.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door of the Vale mansion. The place I’d called home. The place where I thought I was building a future.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," I whispered to the rain.

I started walking. I didn't have a choice.

By the time I reached the main road, my shoes were ruined,d and my toes were numb.

I found a bus stop about half a mile down the road. It was just a metal bench under a leaking plastic roof, but it was better than standing in the middle of the street.

I slumped down onto the wet bench, the metal cold against my skin. I was shivering so hard my teeth were actually chattering.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, my fingers fumbling with the screen. I needed to call a cab. I needed to find a hotel.

I opened my banking app. Maybe I could get a cheap room for the night until I figured things out.

I stared at the screen. I blinked, thinking the rain had blurred my vision.

Balance: $0.00.

Wait, what?

I refreshed the page. My heart was thumping so loud I could hear it over the rain.

$0.00.

I scrolled down to the recent transactions—a single transfer, ten minutes ago.

Transfer to: Marcus Vale. Amount: All.

He’d drained the joint account. He’d even touched my personal savings—the money I’d kept from my wedding gifts.

He’d taken everything—every single cent.

I sat there, the phone slipping from my wet hands and clattering onto the pavement.

I didn't even have the energy to pick it up.

I had no money. No home. No husband. No family.

I was twenty-four years old, sitting on a bus stop bench in a rainstorm, and I was completely, utterly alone.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking, but it was useless.

The weight of it all finally crashed down on me. My life was officially over. How would I ever be able to bounce back?

I….I was helpless.

And for the first time in my life, I realized that nobody was coming to save me.

God, please. Let this be a dream. A very, very bad dream.