Leaving the Sterling House

I left the Sterling mansion in a torrential downpour on my son's birthday.

My little boy pushed me toward the door with all his might.

I hate you! I want Aunt Rosalie to be my mommy!

My husband, Quentin, didn't stop him.

He shared a smile with his childhood sweetheart, Rosalie, before looking at me coldly.

"Look at how he treats you. You don't deserve to be a mother. Don't stay here and ruin the party tonight."

Half my body was already soaked by the rain.

I looked at him and made a decision that would change my life.

"Fine. Not just tonight. You'll never see me in this house again."

I turned and walked into the storm, cutting every tie with the Sterling family.

I never expected that three years later, they would appear before me again.

And this time, they claimed they were sorry...

It was late October, and the rain in the city was bone-chilling.

By the time I ran a few yards from the mansion, I was drenched.

A sharp pain in my foot finally made me stop.

My expensive heels were ruined from the running.

My designer gown clung to me like a piece of wet trash.

I stood on the empty winding road and screamed in agony, sobbing my heart out.

I had ordered this outfit six months ago for my son Hudson's birthday.

He told me he wanted his mommy to look like a beautiful princess.

But then he told me Rosalie was ten thousand times better than me.

Thinking about that, my heart, which felt heavy as stone, finally cracked.

I didn't want to cry anymore.

I looked at the leaves washed clean by the rain and felt a strange sense of relief.

If I could throw away a faithless man, I could give up a cold-hearted son too.

My pace lightened.

I walked down the road and called for an Uber on my phone.

As the car sped away, I watched the familiar scenery fade.

I realized that since the moment I married Quentin, my soul had been trapped in that suburban mansion.

Every time I drove his luxury cars, it was to attend galas for his business.

I would spend the ride back taking care of his drunken self.

It got even worse after Hudson was born.

I thought my sacrifice would earn me a scrap of love.

But all I got were daggers to the heart.

Letting go made everything look beautiful again.

I checked into a hotel and looked at my bank balance.

It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to start over.

This was my pre-marital savings. It was my ticket to freedom.

In the end, I was the only one who could save myself.

I took a shower and fell onto the soft, dry bed.

When I opened my phone, I saw Rosalie's latest post.

To anyone else, she, Quentin, and Hudson looked like a perfect family of three.

The comments were full of people wishing them happiness.

I shut the screen.

They couldn't hurt me anymore.

I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep...

I woke up with a pounding headache.

My skin felt like it was on fire.

I couldn't stop coughing.

I tried to get out of bed, but my legs gave out and I collapsed back onto the mattress.

I knew the rain had made me sick.

This was a recurring issue since Hudson was born.

Three years ago on New Year's Eve, Hudson had a terrifyingly high fever.

I called Quentin dozens of times, but he never picked up.

The house staff were all away for the holidays.

I had no choice but to carry my one-month-old baby into the snow.

I got sick after he recovered because of the stress and the cold.

Ever since then, any chill would trigger a massive migraine and dizziness.

I forced myself to call the hotel front desk for help.

After taking some medicine, I drifted back into a heavy sleep.

I don't know how long I slept, but a loud banging on the door woke me.

I checked my phone and saw I had been out for over ten hours.

There were hundreds of notifications and missed calls.

Every single one was from Becca.

I knew exactly who was trying to break my door down.

I felt a mix of bitterness and warmth in my chest.

"Stop banging," I croaked. "I'm not dead yet."

The noise stopped instantly.

I dragged my heavy body to the door and opened it.

The anger on Becca's face vanished the second she saw me.

She grabbed my shoulders with a worried look.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you suffering alone in a hotel? What about your house? What about your kid?"

I stared at her in shock.

I wondered how she knew the truth so fast.

Did Quentin actually contact her?

Becca saw the confusion in my eyes and sighed.

"I knew it. I guessed right. That jerk Quentin did something to piss you off again, didn't he?"

I felt a wave of relief.

She didn't know the whole story yet.

And Quentin hadn't bothered to look for me at all.

Becca kept ranting.

"Don't you dare go back this time! We need to teach them a lesson!"

I looked at her furious face and suddenly laughed.

"Yeah, I'm not going back. Not ever. I actually need your help. I need you to draft a divorce agreement."

Becca's expression shifted from anger to pure shock.

I stopped smiling and gave her a slow, firm nod.

I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

"Good," she whispered. "You're finally free from that hell."

"Now, go get cleaned up. I'm taking you out for a massive dinner to celebrate!"

Looking at her bright face, I felt my body start to recover.

I got ready and let her pull me out of the hotel.

As she drove, she started bragging.

"Do you know how I found you? Do you know how I knew something was wrong?"

I stayed quiet on purpose.

She couldn't help but spill the secret.

"You're the woman who posts eight hundred pictures of your son a day. But yesterday was his birthday, and you posted nothing!"

"You didn't answer my calls or texts. I knew you were in trouble."

"As for the hotel, remember how we set each other as emergency contacts on our Uber accounts years ago? I found your location in the notifications!"

Becca spoke with such intensity that my nose began to sting.

I turned my head to look out the window so she wouldn't see me cry.

I was so lucky I hadn't pushed her away during my marriage.

She was the one pulling me out of the abyss.

Becca didn't notice my mood and kept talking.

"Since I saved you, you have to help me. You know that orphanage I fund? I need a director."

"You're a psychology professor. Come help me out. Name your price!"

I knew she was just trying to support me.

But I really did need the work.

When I agreed, her face lit up.

"No time like the present! The food at the orphanage is great. Let's go there now!"

Before I could answer, she pulled a U-turn.

We sped off toward the orphanage.

It seemed like just another ordinary afternoon.

But I had no idea that what happened next would save my life.