I Told You To Run But You Didn't (Georgia) novel Chapter 1

Georgia’s POV

He didn't know the truth. To him, to all of them, I was just an orphan he had generously plucked from obscurity. A lowly woman with no family, no history, and nothing to her name before he came into my life.

That was the lie I had let them believe.

"Enough of this bullshit, Gia," Lucas growled, his patience finally shredding. “It’s just a fucking necklace!”

Just a necklace. His words echoed in my heart. He didn't understand. This wasn't just jewelry; it was a symbol. It was my mother's heirloom, the one she used in a war-torn country to trade for medicine and food, saving many orphans. It proved her unwavering conviction.

And when it finally surfaced at an auction, Lucas hadn't given it to me, his wife. He gave it to his first love.

Tears burned my throat, a fire I refused to let anyone see. I knelt, my fingers closing around the cold, familiar pendant that the other woman had so carelessly discarded on the floor.

It felt heavier than ever, a lifetime of my mother's courage in my palm.

Without a word, I turned my back on them and walked towards the grand staircase, my spine rigid. At the bottom step, I paused. I didn't turn around completely, just glanced back at Lucas.

"Let's not discuss the necklace anymore," I said, my voice flat and empty. "Will you come with me tomorrow? My parents' ashes are being transported, and I need to be there."

Of course, I had told him my parents died in a car accident overseas before we were married. How could I explain their real lives—and their real deaths? It was so tragic.

Kiara’s voice cut through the silence, sickly sweet and victorious. "Oh, Lucas can't go tomorrow. He has to take me to see my mother at the hospital. He promised. right, Lucas?"

I watched him, my husband. This was his choice to make. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes, focusing instead on a spot on the wall just past my shoulder.

"I... I already have plans with Kiara, Gia."

The last hope inside me died, leaving behind only a cold, clear certainty. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply gave a single, final nod—not of agreement, but of understanding.

Clutching my mother's necklace, I turned and walked up the stairs, each step firm and final. I didn't look back.

Inside my room, I closed the door, the soft click sealing off the last three years of my life. I leaned my head against the wood, looking down at the heirloom in my palm.

"Mom, Dad," I murmured to the empty room, my voice finally breaking. "Don't worry. I'll come for you tomorrow. Just me."

***

The next morning, I drove.

The man I’d called a husband was an irrelevant footnote in a chapter I had already burned, busy playing nursemaid to his mistress.

I stopped my car mere inches from the military camp’s security line. I didn't wait to be addressed. I stepped out and slammed the door, the sound of a gunshot in the quiet morning.

"Good," Fatima snapped, crossing her arms. "Then you heard. If you have any sense, you'll divorce my son."

"Stop holding him back from someone better!" Jasmine shrieked, pointing a finger at me. Lucas managed a pathetic warning, "Jasmine…"

Hugging the urn closer to my chest, I met their hateful glares with ice in my own.

But before I could even speak, Fatima’s glare landed on the urn in my arms, her face twisting in disgust. "You will not bring that… unlucky thing into this house."

The words struck me dumb. "Unlucky thing?" I repeated, my voice trembling with a rage I couldn't contain. "These are my parents’ ashes! How dare you?"

I looked to Lucas, pleading with my eyes for him to intervene, to defend their memory.

He just sighed, an exhausted sound, as if I were the one causing a problem. "Gia," he said, not even looking at the urn. "Just find somewhere else for it, okay?"

My mouth fell open. That was it. The final straw. This wasn't just disrespect to me; it was a desecration of my parents' honor. The fight drained out of me, replaced by an absolute, chilling calm. Without another word, I turned my back on him.

Fatima’s hiss followed me down the hall. "I told you, you should have divorced that woman long ago! She brings nothing but bad luck!"

I stopped, the cool marble like ice beneath my feet. Divorce. They kept throwing that word at me like it was a threat, like it was my greatest fear.

A bitter smile touched my lips. They had no idea. They had just handed me the very weapon I needed to set myself free.