3
Jasmine loved the way the salesgirls looked at her when she handed over Scott’s black card, like she was untouchable. Like she’d won.
That day, she was at one of the most expensive boutiques in the city, surrounded by her usual group of envious friends. Silk dresses, diamond earrings, designer heels she let her friends pick anything they wanted. She wanted them to know she was Scott Jones’s wife.
She wanted them to whisper about how she’d won, how she’d taken everything Nadine once thought she had.
“Put them all on my husband’s card,” Jasmine told the cashier, chin high, voice dripping with satisfaction. The cashier gave a small nod, sliding the card through the machine.
Declined.
The word flashed on the tiny screen like an insult. Jasmine blinked, forcing a laugh. “Try again. There’s more than enough.”
The cashier’s smile faltered. She did. Declined. Again.
Jasmine’s friends exchanged awkward glances. “Maybe there’s a limit?” one offered weakly, but Jasmine could see the curiosity in her eyes. The spark of gossip already forming on her tongue.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the cashier said quietly. “The card isn’t working. Do you have another?” With shaking hands, Jasmine pulled out two more cards all Scott’s. Declined. Declined.
The pity in the cashier’s eyes made Jasmine want to scream.
“Wow,” someone behind her murmured. One of her so–called friends. “Maybe Scott doesn’t love you anymore. Maybe he realized what he did to Nadine.”
Jasmine spun around, eyes wide, lips trembling. “What did you just say?”
Her friends didn’t answer. They were already stepping back, looking at her like she was pathetic. Like she was nothing.
Humiliation burned up her throat. She threw the cards back in her purse and stormed out, leaving the expensive clothes in a heap at the counter.
She didn’t care. All she could think about was Scott. How dare he cut her off? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
By the time she got home, her hands were still shaking. She pushed open the door of the estate, ready to scream at him, to demand an explanation.
But the sight that greeted her knocked the words out of her throat.
Suitcases lined the foyer. Her dresses, shoes, purses, all of them were being shoved into black trash bags by the house staff. One maid paused when she saw Jasmine standing there, stunned.
“What are you doing?” Jasmine shrieked. “Who told you to touch my things?!”
The maid swallowed, looking away. “Mr. Scott’s orders, ma’am. He said you’re to leave the house today”
Jasmine laughed, too loudly, too high–pitched. “What? Are you insane? I’m his wife! He can’t just throw me out
She shoved past the maids, climbing the grand staircase two steps at a time, not caring that the rain had started to splatter against the tall windows.
She found Scott in his study, whiskey glass clutched tight, sleeves rolled up, hair a mess. He was talking to a few men, their heads bent together over photos, maps, she didn’t care. She slammed the door open, voice shaking with rage.
“Scott! What is this? Why are they throwing out my things? Why did you block my cards?!”
Scott didn’t even look at her. He dismissed the men with a sharp wave of his hand, pouring himself another glass as they scrambled out. When he finally lifted his eyes to her, they were cold. Detached.
“Why, Jasmine?” he said. “Do you really want me to spell it out?”
She stormed across the room, her voice breaking. “I’m your wife! You can’t do this to me! You promised-”
“I promised?” Scott’s laugh was sharp, bitter. He downed his drink in one gulp. “You promised too, didn’t you? You promised you’d love me. You promised you’d stand by me. Instead, you ruined the only good thing I ever had.”
She froze, suddenly feeling like a child caught in a lie. “What are you talking about?”
–
“I heard you,” Scott hissed. “At the bar. Boasting about how you set Nadine made sure she’d lose our child my child. The one good, innocent thing that was ever up. How you mine.” He slammed his empty glass down. “You wanted her gone so badly, didn’t you? Well, congratulations. She’s gone and so are you.”
–
“No,” Jasmine breathed. Her knees wobbled. “You’re lying. You’re drunk. You love me. You married me-”
Scott let out a humorless laugh and pulled a crisp envelope from his desk drawer. He tossed it at her feet. “We’re divorced, Jasmine. It’s done. The papers are signed.”
She stared at the envelope like it was a bomb. Then she dove for it, tearing the papers out, her eyes darting over the legal lines she could barely process.
“No!” she screamed. “I won’t accept this! I’m your wife! I’m your wife-” She ripped the papers to shreds, sobbing, hurling the pieces at him. “How could you do this to me?! After everything I did for you?!”
–
Scott didn’t even flinch. He just looked at her turned to the door, gesturing to the men waiting just outside.
no love, no pity, nothing at all. Then he
“Get her out of my house.”
The security men grabbed her arms. Jasmine thrashed, her nails digging into the floorboards as they dragged her down the stairs. She kicked, screamed, begged, her voice echoing in the grand hall.
45%
“Scott! Scott, please! Don’t do this! I love you! Please-!”
He never came to the door. He didn’t even watch her go.
Outside, the rain had turned into a downpour. Jasmine stumbled into the muddy driveway, her designer heels sinking into the gravel. Her suitcases were tossed at her feet like garbage. The gates clanged shut behind her.
She stood there, drenched, mascara streaking down her cheeks, screaming his name into the storm.
Inside the estate, Scott poured himself another drink. He stared into the glass, his reflection warped by the amber liquid.
t should have felt like freedom. But all he could think about was Nadine hrown away, the woman he’d lost, the woman he’d never get back.
And outside, Jasmine’s cries were drowned by the cold, relentless rain.
—
the woman he’d
11:43 Wed, 23 Jul
