One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 56

Jeff flings open the front door, and Mr. Stringer is standing there. I am in the doorway of the bedroom now, my luggage in my hands as I see my husband trying to grapple with the idea that one of his supervisors from work is standing here on our doorstep now, clearly listening to us fight.

My husband tries to compose himself. "Mr. Stringer. What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice bordering on still out of control as he attempts to get himself back into a civilized manner.

"I heard shouting," Mr. Stringer says, matter-of-fact. "I decided to come and see if everything is well."

"Heard shouting?" Jeff echoes. "But… how is that possible? I thought that you lived across town."

"I do," he says, making it seem as if we were just that loud. But then he continues. "I have been staying next door, Mr. Thompson. You should’ve known better than to think that Mr. Merriweather would just trust you to be all right with this arrangement, not with your temper and history."

"My temper and history?" Jeff repeats. "But--"

He stops short as he realizes I am wheeling my luggage across the kitchen floor now, which makes a loud noise. He turns and looks at me, his eyes wide. "Goodbye, Jeff," I say, swallowing hard against the lump of fear that has lodged in my throat.

"You’re leaving?" he asks, as if it is not obvious.

I nod. "I think it’s for the best."

"But… I don’t understand." He turns back to Mr. Stringer and gives him a puzzled look. "How…? Was this all planned?"

"No, Thompson," Stringer says. "It was just a precaution, but it turns out it was quite necessary, wasn’t it?"

"How do you mean?" My husband is growing angry again. I have stepped past him, and Mr. Springer has taken my larger bag. It’s clear then that I am leaving with Mr. Springer for certain. "She’s the one that hit me!" Jeff shouts, his hand flying to his cheek.

"If she struck you, you must’ve done something to deserve it," Springer growls at my husband. "It’s not as if you’ve never hit your wife before, is it Thompson?"

"Fine, Julia!" he screams at me, his hand on the door now. "I hope that this backfires on you! I hope that you realize that Braxton Merriweather doesn’t love you, you stupid bitch! You whore!"

I walk away now, Stringer glaring at Jeff, and then joining me, his hand on my back. Tears sting my eyes, not because I am sad to be leaving Jeff but because all of this is quite scary. I have no idea where I will go or what I will do, but I feel that I am doing the right thing in leaving now, especially when Jeff has shown the world his true colors.

I look down at my hand where my ring has been for over two years. I can still see the marks where the band has bitten into my skin, but my hand feels lighter without it there. My whole body feels lighter without it there.

I take a deep breath and swipe away my tears.

"Are you all right, Julia?" Mr. Stringer asks me.

"No," I tell him. "I’m… wonderful."