My Husband The Judge Sentenced Me To Prison Chapter 04
When I opened my eyes again, the sky was getting light.
The pain woke me up. I had passed out on a bench on the terrace and slept through the night.
I struggled to my feet, every movement tearing at the wound on my back.
I don’t remember how many red lights I ran on the drive home.
As I pulled into the driveway, I smelled something burning.
I ran to the backyard—Leo was crouched by the barbecue pit, throwing things into the fire.
Flames were devouring my law books, my Yale Law School diploma, and all my framed awards and certificates.
“Leo! Are you insane!”
He turned, his eyes as cold as a stranger’s. “I’m clearing out the trash. Aunt Valerie said this stuff was bad juju. It’s not like you’re ever going to be a lawyer again, so what’s the point of keeping it?”
He dusted off his hands. “By the way, where the hell were you last night? We had to make excuses to the press for you leaving early.”
His tone was disgustingly casual. “It’s probably for the best, though. Valerie has a mild concussion. Dad took her to a private clinic. He’s not coming home tonight.”
He looked me up and down with disgust. “You really crossed the line, Sarah.”
Then he turned and went back inside, slamming the patio door behind him.
Those books were my life’s work.
Before I went to prison, I entrusted them to Marcus. “I will protect them like I protect the Constitution,” he’d said.
Now, they were nothing but ash.
I knelt by the pit, digging through the embers with my bare hands until I found a small, unburnt fragment. The gold-leaf letters for “Juris Doctor” were still visible.
My fingertips blistered, but I felt no pain.
I dragged myself to my feet and stumbled back to the guest room.
As I passed the master bedroom, I heard a sound.
It wasn’t the argument I expected.
It was the sound of low moans and heavy breaths.
My hand froze on the doorknob.
The door was cracked open—Marcus wasn’t at a clinic. He had Valerie pinned against our marital bed.
On the nightstand, my gold pin glittered mockingly in the morning light.
Knowing is one thing.
Seeing it is another.
Through the crack in the door, Valerie’s eyes met mine over Marcus’s shoulder.
She saw me.
A triumphant smirk spread across her face. Then she wrapped her arms tighter around Marcus and cried out his name.
Marcus groaned. “God, Valerie…”
I had never heard him say my name with that much passion.
I turned and sank to the floor in the shadows of the hallway.
A long time later, Marcus emerged, wearing a bathrobe, his hair damp.
He jumped when he saw me, covered in blood and completely broken.
“Sarah? When did you get back?”
He sounded so casual, as if he’d just been for a run.
“I was taking care of Valerie. She’s still dizzy.”
“Taking care of her?” I looked up at him, my eyes empty. “In our bed?”
His face hardened, and his embarrassment quickly turned to rage.
“So what?” he hissed, his voice low but full of self-righteous anger. “I have needs. With my status, women are throwing themselves at me. I’ve been more than generous with you.”
“Do you have any idea the pressure I’m under? An appellate judge with a felon for a wife! What do my colleagues think of me? Do you know how many favors I had to call in because of your case?”
The more he talked, the more he convinced himself he was the victim.
“And you? You just walk around with that dead look on your face all day. Valerie understands me. She helps my campaign. She brings connections and resources to the table. What can you give me now? Besides shame?”
He saw me lower my head and assumed I had surrendered. His tone softened, like he was throwing me a bone.
“Alright, stop the drama. Go take a shower and change. Don’t let Leo see you looking like this.”
He turned and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.
I sat there in the hallway, no longer feeling the pain in my back.
Maybe because my heart was already dead.
I slowly got up, using the wall for support, and made my way back to the guest room.
I opened the drawer and took out the package Diane had prepared for me long ago—a new ID, untraceable cash cards, and a one-way bus ticket to Oregon.
I packed them in a backpack.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I picked up a pen and paper and wrote one last letter.
Marcus,
No more secrets.
I know about Leo stealing the RSA token. I know about the real source of the wire fraud. And I know about the three-million-dollar bribe in your offshore account.
You were right. I am a criminal. But my only crime was loving you and our son.
You can have Valerie.
I’m taking the truth with me.
—Sarah
I placed the letter on the desk, weighing it down with the burnt piece of my diploma.
I slung the backpack over my shoulder and took one last look at the mansion I once called home.
At three in the morning, the house was silent.
I snuck downstairs and pulled open the front door.
The night air hit my face, and it smelled like a freedom I had long forgotten.
I didn’t look back.
Diane was waiting for me on the coast of Oregon.
And my revenge was just beginning.