Chapter 4 The Stranger's Arm
Lara pov
The days that followed were a special kind of hell.
I was broken, rejected, and abandoned but I was also desperate. Desperate not to leave empty handed. Desperate to fight for my home, for my husband. For a roof over my baby’s head, but nothing was working.
Instead, Lisa was the order of the day.
She was everywhere, treating the Ward mansion like it was already hers, looking at me with contempt. Like I was the enemy. She lounged in the living room in designer clothes, her long legs draped across the furniture my father gave us as a wedding gift. She showed up at family dinners uninvited, sitting in what used to be my seat at the table.
And she disrespected me openly.
"Oh, Lara," she would say with fake concern, looking me up and down. "That dress is... quaint. Is it from last season? Or the season before that?"
Veronica and Natasha would laugh openly. Claire would hide her smile behind her wine glass. And Lucas? He just smiled at Lisa like she just said something clever.
Her hands was always on him, all over him even in my presence like she was marking her territory.
And soon she started to threaten me. “Don't you think you should leave already? Lucas would never love you.” She'd whisper to me in the kitchen while I made dinner for everyone to ea. Including her.
Lucas never defended me. He never told her to stop. Never bothered to acknowledge that what they were doing to me was cruel beyond measure.
But it could get worse, and it did.
I was in the master bedroom one afternoon, folding laundry, when Lucas walked in with an empty box.
"You need something?" I asked.
"Yes. I need you to pack your things," he said folding his arms across his chest.
“What do you mean?” I asked defensively, thinking about my baby.
"You're moving to the guest room at the end of the hall." He replied with an inpatient look.
“But I am your wife.” I shot back. “Your wife.”
Lucas didn't even care anymore. "Lisa needs somewhere comfortable to stay when she's here. She'll stay in the master bedroom." He said, walking out.
"Lucas. This is our home.” My voice was low. Unsure but fighting.
"It's not." His voice cut through the air like a knife. "This is my house and you'll do what I say or get out."
The words hit me like a slap.
I slowly packed my things and moved them down the hall. To the smallest guest room. The room used to be a storage room. A single room with a tiny bed and broken air conditioning.
That night, I laid in the narrow bed and listened to Lisa's laughter echoing through the walls. Then her loud exaggerated moans and the creaking of the gaint bed.
I knew what they were doing, and they didn't have to make it more obvious but they did.
My husband was making love to another woman in the bed we once shared.
I pressed my pillow over my ears and cried silently, one hand pressed to my stomach where my baby grew. This child would never know its father. Would never have a real family. And it was all my fault for being too weak, too stupid, and probably too worthless to keep my husband's love.
I'd never even had his love to begin with.
The next morning, Lucas took Lisa shopping on Fifth Avenue. I knew because Natasha made sure to tell me all about it over breakfast.
"He bought her a Birkin bag," she said, scrolling through photos on her phone. "The crocodile leather one. Do you know how much those cost?"
I didn't answer. I was trying to hard not to vomit from morning sickness.
"Thirty thousand dollars," Natasha continued gleefully. "He also got her diamond earrings from Tiffany's. And shoes from Louboutin. And—oh, this is my favorite—a matching necklace and bracelet set that she's been wanting."
Lucas had always told me that we couldn't afford any luxuries. That we needed to save money. That my father's company wasn't generating enough profit for frivolous spending.
But he could spend thirty thousand dollars on a purse for his mistress.
That evening, he took Lisa to dinner at Per Se—one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. I knew because I was home alone, eating leftover pasta in the tiny guest room while stalking Lucas's social media.
He posted a photo of Lisa across a candlelit table, looking stunning in a red dress, with the caption: "Beautiful evening with beautiful company."
The comments were full of heart emojis and congratulations, like everyone had already forgotten he was married.
Maybe he'd forgotten too.
But even elastic had its own limits. And that limit came when Claire sent me to get absured things at the grocery story close to midnight.
I knew she was just trying to humiliate me but I left quietly.
Until it happened.
The car lost control and went tumbling down the hill.
I held my belly, screaming as my life faded before my eyes but a black sports bick pulled up to the scene.
A man with a black headgear and a black leather jacket he pulled me out of the car before it went up in flames, holding me in his arms and asking me if I was okay,
I had called my husband multiple times in the car but he wasn't picking up the call. Instead, another stranger held me while my body shook from trauma.
He drove off immediately the police arrived—before I could thank him.
And when I returned home limping—dropped off by the police—they were holding a small party for her.
The loud music banged in my ears as I walked into the house but they didn't stop. They just looked at me and continued their party, dancing and drinking like I didn't exist.
I quietly went upstairs, and packed whatever thing I had left.
There was nowhere to go, no money, and my father's company had just been claimed by Lucas but I didn't care.
I was done trying to be accepted by people that would never accept me.
When I got downstairs with my bag, the music stopped.
Veronica was the first to gloat. “Look who we have here. So you're finally leaving this house. What made you change your mind?”
Lucas eyed me over. “Where do you think you're going?”
“Anywhere but here.” I replied bitterly, holding back my tears. “I was dying while you were here partying with your mistress. I called you countless times, but of course you wouldn't know because you were with your mistress. I'm done trying to please you. I'm done Lucas.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Well, go if you want but you are not leaving this house with anything. You leave empty handed.”
His words came like a death sentence.
“Lucas, you don't surely mean that do you? You've taken everything I have from me. The only place I can go to now is my father's house and he's dead. Now you're sending me out in the cold night?”
But Lucas was resolved. “I don't care. You wanted to leave so leave. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this. So go. I'm done waiting.”
I swallowed bitterly and walked out of the house carrying nothing. No phone, no warm clothes, just me and the cold dark night.
The night my life ended.
I walked to my father's house a few miles away from Lucas. The night breeze stinging.
But when I got there disappointment washed over me. My father's house has been sold. The bastard sold my father's house.
The worst part was that the new owners were already moving in.
I tried to go somewhere—anywhere—but my legs could barely carry me.
The street lights fizzled out as I hit the ground, and the world blacked out.
Until I felt a strong muscular arm dropping me gently on the bed and warmth flooded me.
I opened my eyes to bright lights, warm blankets and dark green eyes staring at me.
The man from the gala. How could I forget those eyes.