Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 180438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 601(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 601(@300wpm)
I gagged and tried getting out of bed in the hopes of making it to the bathroom in time to throw up, but no such luck. I threw up so hard it felt like my chest would cave in, then I blacked out. She must’ve heard me hit the floor because the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the shower with the water running down over me, still fully clothed, as she sat on the closed commode looking at me.
I didn’t bother asking her what happened again; I could take a wild guess, though this had never happened before, not to this extent anyway. Just another blatant reminder of my new reality. That thought just led me down the rabbit hole of self-pity when I remembered that I no longer had access to Ryder’s millions and never would again because he’d tricked me into signing those divorce papers.
It couldn’t possibly have all gone this wrong. Maybe I was having some kind of psychotic break, and the last week had been nothing more than a dream. Maybe I’ll wake up soon, and this would all be something to laugh about. Of course, I mean, in what reality would the girl I bullied in high school come back into my life years later as a well-established businesswoman who was doing better than me?
Those kinds of things only happen in movies. Maybe I’ll wake up from this, and things would have gone back to the way they were, the way they were meant to be. But no, this feels real; the pain is real, and I can see the water running down my arms.
I got lost watching the rivulets and, for the briefest of moments, felt a semblance of peace. “Maybe you should get out now; you’re all cleaned up.” I looked at her through half-slitted eyes. I’d forgotten she was there. What did she mean cleaned up?
My head lolled to the side, and I saw the dregs of something soggy going down the drain. I’ve been hung over enough times to know what vomit looks like, and that was pretty close, if not the real thing. When did I throw up?
I stumbled upright and almost barked at her when she reached out to help, but I bit my tongue at the last second because I’d have fallen flat on my face if I got my way. She helped me back to my room and even got me out of the wet clothes before rummaging through the bags to find me something else to wear.
“Who bought these disgusting things? I want my real clothes. What happened to my clothes?”
“I’m not sure, but from what I’ve heard, your old home has been quarantined, and no one can get in there, so you’ll have to wait on that.”
“What? But they’re mine.” I didn’t appreciate her long-suffering look or the way she dismissed me as if my words didn’t matter.
“Besides, the way things are looking, nothing that’s there belongs to you.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Well, according to Ryder Sumner, you basically committed a host of crimes to get him to marry you, which means your marriage might not even be real. Therefore, anything you attained during the marriage is null and void, so technically, you don’t have any clothes.”
What the hell is this bitch saying? “Didn’t you know that? I thought that was the reason you were in here screaming. It’s all over the internet.” She was only too happy to impart that little tidbit before leaving the room. I think I even heard her whistling her way down the stairs. I hope she falls and breaks her neck.
***
I’m not sure how many days later it was or even what day or month we were in when I had my next clear thought. I’d spent the last few days locked away in this room wallowing in self-pity; that’s when I wasn’t throwing up or shaking so hard I was afraid I would break. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, she refused to give me anything for the pain, except for the detestable soup she kept trying to force on me.
I did what I always do these days and reached for my phone. Like a moth to a flame, I went searching for the latest news about Ryder. He and his bitch were all anyone seemed interested in these days. I used to enjoy how fickle the world was when they were eating up my planted stories, but now I wonder why they couldn’t find anything more interesting to report than the latest tidbit about their new ‘it’ couple.
As I read the latest headline and saw their smiling faces right beneath the caption, the happy couple, something inside me, died, and then the anger came, such anger that I almost flung the phone across the room. Thankfully, I didn’t have the strength needed to lob it that far.