Wedded to Revenge: My Ex’s Father, My Husband

Sophia.

I drove like a madwoman, my eyes glued to the road, heart pounding in my chest, and my hands gripping the steering wheel with a death grip. The sound of the engine roaring as I sped down the highway matched the frantic thumping of my pulse. Ethan's birthday gifts were stacked precariously in the back seat, swaying with every sharp turn and swerve I made. The cake, that perfectly frosted masterpiece, wobbled dangerously close to the edge, threatening to plunge onto the floor at any moment.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the cake tilting, dangerously close to disaster. Without thinking, I reached back with one hand, my fingers barely brushing the edge of the cake box, trying to pull it closer to the seat. My focus wavered, eyes flicking between the road and the back seat, anxiety bubbling in my chest.

That was when it happened.

I heard the screeching of tires, the high-pitched squeal that sent my stomach plummeting. The jarring impact followed immediately, throwing my body forward violently. My seatbelt dug painfully into my chest, holding me in place as the world seemed to tilt around me. Metal crunched, glass shattered, and for a few seconds, I was disoriented, frozen in shock.

The world fell silent. My car had come to an abrupt stop, nose-to-tail with the vehicle in front of me. The scratch on the side of their car was deep and jagged.

I stumbled out of my car, legs trembling beneath me as I surveyed the damage. My breath came in shallow gasps, panic setting in. “Oh my God, what have I done?” I whispered, running my hands through my hair as frustration boiled over. I paced back and forth, kicking at the ground in a futile attempt to release my pent-up emotions. "I should've just slowed down," I muttered angrily to myself, knowing it was too late now.

A voice from behind startled me out of my thoughts.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I turned to see the driver of the other car approaching me. He was a middle-aged man with kind eyes, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. I felt a lump form in my throat, guilt washing over me.

“I'm so sorry,” I blurted out. “I wasn't paying attention. I was trying to grab a present, and…” My words trailed off as I gestured helplessly towards the back seat, where the gifts and cake now lay in a sad heap.

He glanced at the damage and then back at me, offering a sympathetic smile. “It's alright,” he said gently. “It's just a scratch. No one's hurt, that's what matters most.”

Relief flooded through me, and I let out a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the tension in my chest ease slightly. I didn't deserve his kindness, not after being so reckless. But he waved it off with a shrug before returning to his car, leaving me standing there, still reeling from the shock of it all.

Eventually, I managed to compose myself enough to get back in the car and drive the rest of the way to Ethan's apartment. By the time I arrived, my nerves were frayed, but the excitement of seeing him and surprising him with the gifts kept me going.

I gathered the presents and hurried inside, practically running up the stairs to his floor, a smile forming on my lips despite everything. As I approached his door, I heard faint noises coming from the apartment next to his—laughter, music, and a few… unmistakable sounds. I couldn't help but laugh under my breath. "Some people just can't get enough," I muttered, shaking my head. But when I knocked on Ethan's door, there was no answer.

“Babe, are you home?” I called out, my knuckles rapping against the wood again. Still nothing. I frowned, shifting the cake box in my arms as it suddenly felt much heavier.

The door wasn't locked, so I twisted the knob and pushed it open cautiously. “Ethan?” I called, stepping inside. The apartment was eerily quiet, save for some muffled noises coming from the bedroom. My stomach twisted uneasily.

With hesitant steps, I walked toward the bedroom, heart racing once more, but this time for a different reason entirely. I pushed the door open slightly, just enough to peer inside, and that's when I saw it.

Ethan. My best friend, Sarah. Both of them tangled in the sheets, naked, their bodies moving together in perfect, traitorous harmony.

I froze. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as my mind struggled to process what I was seeing. My hands went limp, the cake slipping from my grasp and crashing onto the floor in a sticky, ruined mess. “Ethan?” I whispered, my throat constricting painfully.

Ethan's eyes shot open, and his expression morphed from pleasure to panic in an instant. Sarah's face was a mask of guilt, her wide eyes meeting mine for just a moment before she scrambled to cover herself.

“What the hell is this?” I choked out. My heart shattered in my chest, the betrayal hitting me like a physical blow.

Ethan rolled off Sarah, his movements awkward and rushed as he grabbed for his clothes. "You weren't supposed to find out like this," he muttered under his breath.

I staggered back, unable to breathe, unable to comprehend how my entire world had just crumbled in front of me. “I loved you,” I whispered. “How could you do this to me?”

Ethan sneered, his words slicing through the air like a dagger. “Love?” he scoffed. “I never loved you, Sophia. You were convenient. That's all.”

Sarah stood awkwardly by the bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. She took a hesitant step toward me, but I recoiled. “I'm sorry,” she said weakly. “I never meant for this to happen.”

Her words felt empty, hollow, like a rehearsed excuse. The betrayal stung too deeply for apologies. “Don't touch me,” I spat, venom dripping from every word.

Before I could react further, Ethan's next words hit me like a wrecking ball. “She's carrying my baby,” he said flatly, as if that explained everything.

My world tilted on its axis, and I collapsed to my knees, tears blurring my vision. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

Sophia.

My heart was in pieces, shattered beyond repair, as I stumbled out of Ethan's apartment. Every step felt heavier than the last, and my body moved on autopilot, numb and disconnected from my racing mind. I didn't even realize I was trembling until my hands struggled to fit the key into the ignition of my car.

With a shaky breath, I turned the key, and the engine roared to life. As I drove through the city, the lights and sounds blurred together, creating a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors that matched the chaos swirling inside me. I didn't know where I was going, but that didn't matter. All I knew was that I had to get away.

Away from the pain. Away from the betrayal that suffocated me, threatening to pull me under.

The streets stretched on endlessly, and somewhere in the distance, a neon sign flashed in the night—a club. Without thinking, I swerved into the parking lot, tires screeching against the pavement. I had no plan, no intention other than to drown myself in noise and forget, even if only for a few hours.

Inside, the music hit me like a wave, the heavy bass pounding in my chest, drowning out my thoughts. I pushed through the crowd, grabbed a drink, and downed it in one gulp. The alcohol burned, numbing the edge of my grief, if only for a moment.

The dance floor called to me, and I let the music take over. I moved with the rhythm, losing myself in the beat, letting it consume me. For a while, the pain faded, replaced by the thrum of the music coursing through my body.

I closed my eyes, swaying to the sound. But when I opened them, my gaze landed on a man sitting alone at the edge of the dance floor.

Tall, dark-haired, and brooding, his eyes were locked on mine. A cigarette dangled from his lips, his expression unreadable. Something about him sent a chill down my spine—dangerous but magnetic.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, never breaking eye contact. His gaze held me captive.

Without a word, he motioned for me to come closer, a flick of his wrist beckoning me. My heart raced as I hesitated, torn between fear and a pull I couldn't explain.

Before I could decide, he was there, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"Dance with me," he said.

I froze, but he didn't wait for an answer. His hand found my waist, pulling me toward him. "Come on," he whispered.

The world around me disappeared as we moved together, our bodies pressed close. "You dance like you're running from something," he murmured, his lips near my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

"I'm just...having fun," I replied.

His laugh was soft, almost dangerous. "No," he said, his hand sliding lower on my waist. "I think you're trying to forget."

A shiver ran through me, his touch sending sparks along my skin. "What's your name?" he asked, his lips so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"Sophia," I whispered.

He smiled, a dark, predatory smile. "Nathaniel," he said, his name rolling off his tongue like a promise. "Nathaniel James."

The name hit me like a shockwave. Nathaniel James—the billionaire. His name was whispered in boardrooms with a mixture of fear and admiration.

I stumbled back, the weight of his name sinking in, but his grip tightened, pulling me closer again. "Don't leave," he whispered, his voice soft, hypnotic.

I should have walked away. I should have turned and never looked back. But his touch, his presence, was intoxicating, and I found myself drawn to him, despite every warning in my mind.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. The suggestion was laced with promise, the kind of promise that made my heart race and my blood run cold.

Despite every warning blaring in my head, I nodded.

Nathaniel led me through the crowd, his hand never leaving mine. The music faded behind us as we moved deeper into the club, into a private room cloaked in shadows. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of expensive cologne, the atmosphere both intimate and stifling.

He sat down on a leather couch, pulling me onto his lap with a practiced ease. His hands roamed over my body, his touch igniting something inside me. "I want you," he whispered.

I shivered, the words sending a thrill through me. But as his hands moved lower, as his breath warmed my neck, something shifted inside me—a memory, distant and painful, rose to the surface.

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible.

Nathaniel didn't stop. His grip tightened, his lips brushing against my skin. "Don't fight it," he murmured.

Panic flared in my chest, and I pushed against him. "Stop!" I cried.

He pulled back, confusion flickering across his face. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay? You know you can talk to me, what's the problem?"

"I can't do this," I stammered, scrambling off his lap. My heart pounded in my chest as I grabbed my things, my hands shaking.

Without another word, I fled the room, the weight of the night crashing down on me. The cool night air hit me like a slap as I stumbled out of the club, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

I collapsed against the wall outside, my body trembling as flashes of my past overwhelmed me. Memories I had tried so hard to bury clawed their way to the surface, refusing to let go.

I closed my eyes, pressing my hands to my temples, willing the images to stop. But they wouldn't. They crashed over me like waves, drowning me in a sea of pain and regret.

I had thought I could forget. I had thought I could run from my past. But it was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment to drag me back under.