Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
In her dream, Nicole found herself walking through endless farmland, her father explaining the various crops and their uses. He described how these plants would eventually end up on their table.
Tired from walking, little Nicole rode on her father’s back.
Listening to his explanations, she innocently asked, “Daddy, why don’t the farmers eat meat? It’s filling and delicious. Why don’t they?”
Her father paused and then laughed heartily at her naive question.
Such innocence was typical for a child her age.
At five, little Nicole couldn’t grasp the scarcity of meat and its value.
Growing up in the city with the affluent Lawrence family, Nicole had always been well-fed, even the household staff enjoyed hearty meals.
This made it difficult for little Nicole to understand why farmers lived differently.
Her father tailored his explanation to her young mind. “Does my little Nicole like eating meat?”
“Yes, I like meat,” Little Nicole replied in her childlike tone. Meat was delicious, fragrant, and tender, irresistible to anyone.
Her father continued, “The meat you enjoy, including beef, pork and lamb, comes from animals raised by those farmers.
Instead of eating them, the farmers sell them to support their families. Many farmers haven’t had the opportunity for education, which limits their job options to physically demanding work.
It’s not that they dislike meat, but selling a pig or a sheep might cover their family’s annual expenses, including their children’s schooling.
They sacrifice their desires, hoping their hard work will offer their children a chance to break free from poverty.”
“So, that’s why you help those who are stuck in poverty, right?”
Little Nicole’s voice was innocent yet perceptive.
Nicole’s father was involved in helping many such families, including children raised by elderly grandparents who couldn’t work themselves.
For those families, the absence of a working adult meant no income and no hope. The children could starve without external aid, their futures confined to their impoverished villages.
Even at a young age, little Nicole grasped her father’s lessons. She declared, “Daddy, I won’t eat cheesecake anymore. Let’s use that money to help those children.”
Her father Laughed gently at her proposal. He pinched her cheek, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry, Nicole. You can still have your cheesecake. Daddy makes sure our needs are met first before helping others.”
For a five-year-old, the thought of giving up cheesecake was significant.
Nicole pouted. “Then I’ll eat a little less…”
Her father’s laughter filled the air, warm and comforting.
The dream was sweet and comforting, filled with the love and warmth of her father. Nicole was so content that she wished the dream would never end.
But then, the scene shifted abruptly. Her beloved father was now covered in blood.
In Nicole’s dream, the blood emanated from her father seemed to spread endlessly, engulfing everything in its path.
The sight of crimson terrified Nicole, and she screamed, awakening with bloodshot eyes.
Her head buzzed incessantly, making her dizzy. She glanced around the unfamiliar room, her expression bewildered.
Nicole blinked, trying to recall the previous events. Having predicted Vicki wouldn’t let her off easily, she had installed a hidden camera in the chamber of the club. Later, Jemma called Jarrod at the agreed time. Then, Jarrod had taken her away.
Rubbing her throbbing head, Nicole still felt groggy.
There was an odd scent in the air, something elusive, yet…
Nicole was no naive girl. This scent was strong and familiar. She frowned.
Recalling she was drugged last night, Nicole hastily threw off the covers to check herself for any signs of sexual intercourse.
Other than the bruises from being bullied by Vicki and her thugs, Nicole found her more private areas to be untouched, except for the deep finger marks on her waist.
These were too pronounced to overlook. She couldn’t imagine what could have caused such marks. It didn’t look like something from a fight. She hesitated to contemplate further.
Noticing her clothes weren’t her own, Nicole’s concern deepened.
Just then, the door swung open. Jarrod entered, noticing Nicole sitting up. He offered a simple, “Awake?”
Right after he said so, an oversized pillow hurtled toward his face.
Jarrod raised his hand, deflecting the pillow, which then fell to the floor. His expression remained calm, his gaze steady. “Is this how you repay me for saving you?”
“What did you do to me?” Nicole demanded, her anger palpable.
Jarrod, observing her rage, allowed a small smile to touch his lips.
He picked up a glass of whiskey brought by the housekeeper, swirled it, took a sip, and said casually, “If I had done anything, don’t you think you’d have felt it?”
Nicole was momentarily stunned. Instantly, her ears turned red. This man could discuss inappropriate topics with the same poise he brought to business meetings. His expression stayed serious, yet his words were anything but.
Jarrod, unabashed, retorted, “If I had done something to you, you wouldn’t have the strength to throw a pillow at me this morning.”
“You…” Nicole’s skin crawled with indignation.
“And you might want to look in a mirror…” Jarrod continued, his tone feigning helpfulness.
He pointed to the mirrored wall opposite the bed, remarking, “The way you look now, even if you were out on the street, no one would bother you.”
His words cut deep. Nicole, seething with fury, glanced at her reflection in the mirrored wall. Her face was swollen, resembling a pig’s head. Not only her body but her forehead and jaw were also swollen.
Last night, her wounds were just bruises. Now, her entire face had puffed up, distorting her features into a squashed, comical appearance, hardly unattractive but certainly less appealing.
But she wasn’t exactly ugly. Her features were her own, unaltered and authentic. Swollen, she appeared more comical than anything, a larger-than-life version of herself.
“And my clothes…” Nicole gestured to the nightgown she was wearing and asked, “Who changed them?”
“Not me,” Jarrod was quick to clarify, wanting to avoid any misunderstanding. “The housekeeper did.”
A wave of relief washed over Nicole, but she knew this was not the time for lengthy discussions with Jarrod. More urgent matters demanded her attention.
Last night, Nicole had arranged for Jemma to call Jarrod if she failed to emerge by the agreed time, trusting that only Jarrod could outmaneuver Vicki. This was her strategy to protect Austin. She couldn’t afford any errors. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have involved Jarrod.
Before the incident, Nicole had instructed Jemma to secure the hidden camera footage from the chamber in due time.
With the evidence of Vicki’s bullies, unfit for a stepmother for Austin, now likely in Jemma’s possession, she needed to retrieve it swiftly to Leverage negotiations with Jarrod.
Nicole was convinced that once Jarrod viewed the footage, he would not risk the Schultz family’s reputation by marrying Vicki. Even if he decided to proceed, he would have to concede to her terms.
After a moment of thought, Nicole said, “I need to leave. Get me my clothes.” The nightgown was far too loose, and wearing it outside would be humiliating.
Jarrod raised an eyebrow. “Your clothes? Those torn rags?”
Nicole realized he was right. Her clothes were indeed shredded. “Then please, find me something I can wear.”
“Why should I find you something to wear?” Jarrod scoffed. “If you want to leave, go ahead just as you are.”
Nicole bristled at his words. She threw off the covers, prepared to leave in the nightgown.
“Do you really plan to go out like this?” Jarrod’s eyes were cold and sharp. “What are you so eager to do?”
Nicole’s heart sank, sensing his suspicion in his words. She straightened her back and declared, “There’s nothing I need to do, Mr. Schultz. This is your home, and since you and Miss Hampton are about to get married, it’s inappropriate for me to stay here.”
“Inappropriate?” Jarrod swirled the whiskey in his glass and sneered, “When you kissed me last night, you didn’t seem to think it was inappropriate. Now you find staying here for a while is inappropriate, Miss Lawrence?”
He stressed “Miss Lawrence” with a slow, mocking tone, mirroring her earlier formality when she had referred to him as “Mr. Schultz.” If she wanted to play the part of strangers, he was willing to play along.
Nicole’s cheeks flushed slightly. She didn’t recall much from the night before, but Jarrod’s words stirred faint memories. At that moment, she fully grasped getting drunk wasn’t the scary part but the aftermath. Despite having been forced to consume the doctored drink, she couldn’t deny her actions.
Nicole’s voice softened. “I apologize for my behavior while I was not somber.”
“No need for apologies,” Jarrod replied coldly. “I don’t accept them because I don’t offer second chances.” His tone was unyielding.
Realizing he was intentionally complicating matters, Nicole looked up.
“Then what do you want?”
Jarrod responded not with words, but by pulling out a small camcorder and tossing it onto the bed.
Nicole’s expression shifted dramatically. It was her camera set up in the chamber. How did Jarrod get it? Had Jemma handed it over to him?
Nicole quickly dismissed the thought. She refused to suspect Jemma, despite their brief acquaintance. For some reason, she just didn’t think Jemma would betray her.
If Jemma had wanted to harm her, she had plenty of earlier opportunities. There was no reason to wait until now. So it must have been something that Jarrod had come up with himself.
Nicole was surprised at Jarrod’s perceptiveness. He had accurately predicted that she would use the mini camera to record Doreen’s and Vicki’s bullies against her.