I Told You To Run But You Didn't (Georgia) novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Finished

Georgia’s POV

Fatima wrenched her hand from my grip, her voice a shrill performance for her son. “Lucas, are you seeing this? I offer a little motherly advice, and this is how she repays me? What kind of animal treats her husband’s mother this way? Why do you even keep her

I met her hateful glare, my voice dropping to an icy calm. “Because if we divorce, Lucas gives me half of everything. Are you prepared to lose this house, Fatima

“What a load of crap!” she snapped, her mask of civility crumbling. “You walk away with nothing if you cheat!”

And just like that, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The conveniently timed photos, Jasmine’s theatrical accusations, all of it. This was never about my behavior. It was about the money. They needed a cheating clause to get out of the prenup.

That was the plan all along.

Lucas’s face was tight with frustration as he finally stepped between us, not to defend me, but to manage his mother. “Georgia, you need to stop. She is your elder. It is her place to correct you, even if she uses a few harsh words. You can’t treat her like this!”

I scoffed, a single, sharp sound of disbelief. “A few harsh words? Is that what you call what just happened?”

“So what if she hit you?” he said, his voice rising with annoyance. “My mother has sacrificed everything for this family! Can’t you, as her daughter-in-law, just deal with it for once?”

A cold, mirthless smile touched my lips. I’d heard that tired line more times than I could count. The story of his father’s early death, of his mother raising them alone. It was the reason I had tolerated Fatima’s cruelty for so long-out of love for him, I had bitten my tongue until it bled.

“Your mother may have sacrificed for you, Lucas,” I said, my voice cutting through his excuses. “She has done nothing for me but cause pain. I put up with her because I loved you. Notice the past tense.”

Fatima gasped, clutching her chest theatrically. “What kind of attitude is that? Is this how your parents taught you to behave? With such disrespect?”

“My parents raised me to be a partner, not a punching bag,” I said, stepping past Lucas to stand directly in front of her. “They taught me to love and respect myself not to audition for the role of a doormat for a bitter old woman.”

I then turned my my husband, my voice leaving no room for argument.

Baze eby e

“You want a divorce? Draw up the papers. I’ll take what’s rightfully mine, and you two can have what’s left of each other.”

Without another glance, I turned and walked away, leaving them standing in a stunned, silent tableau of their own making.

Later that night, I found myself in the dress designer’s boutique Patricia had insisted on. The reason: tonight’s industry banquet, a crucial networking event.

Staring at my reflection, I could hardly recognize mysel. The gown was a stunning royal green, expertly tailored to my body. With a low-cut back and a slit that rose high on my thigh, it was bolder than anything

Chapter 22

I’d ever worn.

67%

Finished

Patricia let out a low whistle. “Okay. If I were a man, I would marry you on the spot. No questions asked.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Tricia…”

“I’m not kidding!” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door. “You’re going to be the main event tonight. Let’s go!”

We arrived at the Palace Hotel banquet, and for a solid ten minutes, it was exactly what it was supposed to be: networking. Patricia was in her element, and I was holding my own, a glass of champagne in hand and a polite smile fixed on my face.

The smile evaporated the second I saw Jasmine approaching.

et

She stopped in front of us, ignoring Patricia completely Her eyes raked over my gown with a trace of envy over my gown with a trace of envy before she plastered on a look of grave concern. “Geor

Mom needs to see you,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sincerity. “I know we all said things we regret today. She wants to make things right.”

“Don’t you dare go with her,” Patricia hissed under her breath, but a potential investor had already cornered her, pulling her into a conversation.

“It’s fine,” I told Patricia, my eyes never leaving Jasmine’s “Go on. I’ll handle my in-laws.”

As soon as Patricia was distracted, Jasmine’s phony sympathy vanished, replaced by a triumphant smirk. She didn’t lead me anywhere. She just slid a hotel key card into my palm.

I glanced down at it, then back at her. “What is this?”

“Mom’s waiting. Don’t

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