The Night He Chose Her, I Chose My Revenge Chapter 07

The Night He Chose Her, I Chose My Revenge Chapter 07

Julian’s eyes were colder than the storm.

He said nothing more. He just grabbed my wrist, dragged me roughly down the steps, and shoved me into his Land Rover.

My suitcase, the one holding all my identification and valuables, was tossed carelessly into the back.

“Where are you taking me?” My voice trembled, whether from cold or fear, I didn’t know.

He didn’t answer. He just slammed his foot on the gas.

The car surged into the furious Charleston night like an enraged beast. Rain blurred the windows, twisting the world outside into smears of light and color.

At last, the car skidded to a stop in front of an abandoned plantation house.

This was the Croft family’s ancestral home, and one of the most dangerous spots on the coastline.

He dragged me from the car and shoved me toward the old house, which was groaning in the wind.

“Stay here and reflect,” he said through the curtain of rain, his voice cruel and clear, “until you learn what true obedience is.”

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind me.

Then came the grating sound of a lock turning.

I rushed back and pounded on the door, but only the roar of the hurricane answered me.

The windows had been boarded up from the outside.

Cold rain had already soaked through my thin silk blouse. I was drenched, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. In the pitch-dark house, I groped my way along the walls and finally found an old landline phone.

With trembling hands, I lifted the receiver.

Dead silence.

A bolt of lightning tore across the sky. In that brief, blinding flash, I saw the telephone wire outside, ripped apart by the wind and hanging uselessly from its pole.

I stood in the dark, mold-filled living room, listening to the hurricane tear at the coast.

And suddenly, I understood.

He wasn’t just banishing me.

He was trying to kill me.