He Called Me a Monster. I Walked Into His Gala and Took Back My Name.

by

Chapter 1

THEME:
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He Called Me a Monster. I Walked Into His Gala and Took Back My Name.

PART 1: THE INVITATION THAT WAS MEANT TO DESTROY ME

My husband's mistress chose the dress code for a room full of strangers, but I was the only woman she wanted to humiliate.

The invitation was lying on my office desk when I arrived that Monday morning.

Thick ivory cardstock. Crimson wax seal. Gold lettering expensive enough to make an ordinary person hesitate before touching it.

At the top were the words:

ASHFORD CAPITAL ANNUAL FOUNDERS' GALA.

Beneath the date and location, a smaller line had been printed in bold.

BLACK-TIE REQUIRED.

BACKLESS GOWNS ONLY.

Shawls, wraps, capes, and any form of back coverage are strictly prohibited.

I read the instructions three times.

Then I turned the invitation over, hoping there had been some kind of printing mistake.

There wasn't.

My fingers tightened around the paper until the edges bent.

Five years earlier, I had dragged my husband out of a burning building.

The fire had swallowed the hallway outside the apartment where we were staying. Smoke had filled the rooms so quickly that I could barely see my own hands.

Preston had collapsed near the entrance.

I remembered grabbing his wrists.

I remembered the unbearable heat.

I remembered the sound my skin made when the flames caught the back of my dress.

And I remembered refusing to let go of him.

By the time firefighters reached us, Preston was alive.

I was barely conscious.

Thirteen skin-graft surgeries followed.

Months of dressings that stuck to my wounds. Nights when I couldn't lie down without crying. Rehabilitation appointments where I learned how to move my shoulders again.

The doctors had saved my life, but they couldn't give me back the skin I had lost.

Raised, twisted keloid scars covered much of my back, stretching from one shoulder blade toward my waist.

They were thick in some places, pale in others, and painfully sensitive whenever the weather turned cold.

For a long time, Preston called them proof of my courage.

He held my hand in the hospital.

He promised he would spend the rest of his life making sure I never regretted saving him.

Then the surgeries ended.

The bandages came off.

And something inside my husband changed.

At first, he simply stopped touching my back.

Then he started looking away whenever I changed clothes.

Eventually, even that wasn't enough.

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