My Husband Begged Me to Stay

“I know the truth now,” I whispered. “My husband, Cameron... he killed my parents. Please, Uncle. Take me home.”

I married Cameron to erase my family’s debt. In return, I became his prisoner. On our wedding day, my parents died in a car crash. I thought it was fate until I overheard Cameron admitting he orchestrated it. Revenge, he said.

He never loved me. He paraded his mistress, Sofia, through our home while I stayed invisible. I told myself I deserved it until Sofia destroyed the last photo of my parents and Cameron told me to apologize.

Then I got pregnant. He forced me to terminate the baby, claiming he couldn’t let it compete with Sofia’s child. I begged him not to, but he didn’t care.

That was the last straw.

I was supposed to leave in seven days. But I couldn’t wait.

I climbed to the rooftop, stood at the edge. Cameron arrived and finally realized what he was about to lose.

He begged me to stay. But it was too late.

And I jumped.

--

 “I know the truth now,” I whispered into the phone, voice trembling. “My husband, Cameron... he killed my parents. Please, Uncle. Take me home.”

Silence. Then a low, steady voice from the other end.

“If that’s true, then we’ll take revenge. I’ll make sure he pays. I’ll prepare everything… and come get you in a week.”

The call ended. My fingers slipped from the phone as I let out a sharp breath, trying to steady my pulse. My knees felt like they would give out at any second, but I pushed myself upright and turned toward the hallway.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft whimper. Barely audible. Coming from the end of the hall—Cameron’s room.

I didn’t need to check. I knew who was in there.

Sofia.

His mistress.

Still, I walked toward the room, each step dragging a little more weight behind it. I stood by the door, half-hoping I was wrong, fully knowing I wasn’t.

“Ah… Sofia…”

His voice, low and raspy, filled the space between us like poison.

He’d never said my name like that. Not even once.

I didn’t go in. I didn’t need to. Hearing it was enough to kill me a second time.

I turned away, remembering everything I had tried to forget.

I never loved Cameron. But once, a long time ago, I thought I could. He was my first crush. The quiet, brooding heir with eyes that never softened. He barely noticed me back then, but when he did, my heart used to skip.

So when he asked me to marry him because of the debt my parents owed to his family, I agreed. And Cameron had promised—if I became his wife, the entire thing would be wiped clean. No more collectors. No more threats. Just peace.

I convinced myself it was the right choice. That marrying him would be the key to saving my family. I could also make him fall for me so that our marriage wouldn't just be a transaction.

But the day we got married… My parents died in a car crash. Or so I believed for a year until I overheard him on the phone, talking to someone.

“…they deserved it. Her parents betrayed mine. They caused that fire. They ran, and my parents died. I was saved but then the accident also ruined my private part that I couldn’t get hard without medicine.”

There was a pause, then a bitter laugh.

“She married me thinking I saved her. She has no idea I orchestrated everything. No idea the crash wasn’t an accident. Her pain is justice. I’ll make her pay, every day.”

I remember standing there, frozen.

He never touched me without taking something first. Pills. Liquor. Anything to numb himself—or to get hard. He blamed me for what he lost. For what his family lost.

And I… I was nothing more than his prisoner.

All those years, Cameron didn’t even bother to pretend he loved me. He flaunted Sofia openly, like she was the one who truly belonged beside him. She’d show up at our home like it was hers, draping herself over him, laughing too loud, leaving behind perfume that clung to his shirts.

At first, I thought I deserved it. I told myself it was punishment—for being the daughter of the people who destroyed his life. That maybe if I endured it long enough, things would change.

But they didn’t.

Nothing ever changed.

Eventually, I stopped asking for affection. I stopped waiting to be seen. And I realized something that night:

I didn’t owe Cameron anything.

Not anymore.

I needed to leave…

The next morning, I baked myself a small cake. Happy birthday to me. It was also the anniversary of my parents’ death. Same day. Same hour. I used to think it was cruel timing. Now, I see it was planned.

I was icing the cake when I realized I hadn’t seen the framed photo of my parents. I always kept it on my dresser. I rushed to my room, opened drawers, checked the floor. Nothing.

My chest tightened. I searched the whole hallway, eventually heading to the art studio down the corridor—Sofia’s favorite spot in the house.

I found her humming to herself, scissors in hand, slicing through papers with exaggerated flair.

“Oh,” she said with a smirk, “I was doing some collaging. Needed some paper.”

She held up a familiar image—half a photograph. My mother’s smile was slashed clean through.

“This one felt more… expressive. Shows the pain, the loss.” She gave a shrug. “They’re dead anyway. It’s not like you’ll be needing this anymore.”

She tossed the rest into a pile of scraps, laughing like it was a joke.

And that was it.

That was the last straw.

My hand moved before I could think. A sharp smack echoed through the studio, louder than her laughter ever was.

Her head snapped to the side, eyes wide with shock. Mine were full of fire.

Chapter 2 

Sofia froze for a second—eyes wide in disbelief—before she let out a dramatic burst and stumbled backward, clutching her cheek.

“You slapped me?” she shrieked, then started yanking at her hair like she’d lost all control. “Cameron! Cameron, she hit me!”

I didn’t flinch. Not even when he stormed into the room.

“What the heck is going on?” Cameron snapped, scanning the scene like he already picked a side—and it wasn’t mine.

“She hit me because I used that photo for my art!” Sofia cried. “I didn’t know it meant that much!”

Cameron turned to me. “It was just a photograph, Alicia. Why are you being so dramatic?”

My throat burned. “That was our last photograph… of my parents.”

He rolled his eyes like I’d told him I spilled milk. “So? They’re dead anyway. It doesn’t matter. Now apologize to Sofia.”

“No.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no,” I repeated, my voice steady this time.

Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a request, Alicia. I’m ordering you.”

I met his gaze head-on. “And what if I don’t?”

He stepped closer, voice dropping. “Are you seriously defying me now?”

I didn’t answer—not with words. I smirked. Because suddenly, all those years came crashing down in my chest like bricks.

The late nights when I curled up on the bathroom floor crying, and he ignored me. The way he’d bring Sofia home, parading her through our halls while I sat alone at dinner.

The parties I wasn’t allowed to attend. The bruises I covered with long sleeves. The names he called me when no one was around—parasite, debt payment, placeholder.

I remembered once, during winter, I had a fever so high I could barely walk. He left me alone for two days without food or medicine—just because I’d broken a glass by accident.

And I remembered the way he smiled after.

Like he enjoyed watching me suffer.

I snapped out of it, my fingers clenched at my side.

“I want a divorce,” I said.

He laughed.

Actually laughed in my face.

“You? Divorce me?” He took a step forward, amusement turning to something colder. “You don’t get to want anything. You’re mine. You’ll stay mine until I decide I’m done with you.”

Behind him, Sofia let out a sigh and folded her arms. Almost like this was all too exhausting to watch.

Fine. I accepted it.

I wouldn’t fight. Not here. Not now.

Because in exactly seven days, I’d be gone. I just walked away while Sofia smirked as if she had won. It didn’t matter.

I let out a soft breath and pressed a hand to my stomach. My baby. Three months along, and still no bump. I’d been careful. I wore loose clothes. Hid the vitamins. Acted like nothing had changed.

Because I knew if Cameron found out… he’d never let it live.

He’d told me once, back when I’d dared to bring up starting a family: “I don’t want anything that ties me to you. I’d rather die than have a child with you.”

That night, he drank too much. He forgot the protection.

And that’s how this baby happened. I never told him. Because to me, it didn’t matter how it started. All that mattered was this child would be the one pure, good thing that came from everything I’d endured.

So I kept it secret. Until the next morning. I was half-asleep when he threw the covers off and tossed something cold against my chest.

I blinked down. My ultrasound.

I sat up, heart hammering. “Where did you—?”

“Is it true?” Cameron’s voice was sharp, his jaw tight.

I stared at him, shielding my belly without meaning to. “And if it is?”

“You didn’t tell me,” he growled.

“Why would I?” I said, my voice flat. “You don’t care about me. Why would I think you’d care about this baby?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“I don’t.”

Then his eyes darkened. “So we’re going to terminate it.”

Chapter 3

When I woke up, the ceiling was white. I blinked against the harsh light, my body aching like it had been dragged through fire. My hands instinctively moved to my stomach.

Flat. Empty. And then I remembered. I had begged him. Begged Cameron not to do it. Not to take away the one thing that gave me hope.

“Please,” I had whispered, clutching his arm. “Please don’t do this. I’ll leave. I won’t ask for anything. Just let me keep the baby.”

But his eyes were like glass—cold, unfeeling.

“I can’t have anything competing with the child Sofia’s carrying,” he said. “You weren’t even supposed to get pregnant. That was a mistake. And I don’t want your child.”

I had cried until I couldn’t breathe. Screamed until my voice gave out. But none of it mattered. I was strapped to that hospital bed. And they took it from me.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Now, I lay there—hollowed out and too tired to move.

Cameron was gone. Of course he was. Not even a shadow of him remained in that white room. Only a nurse sat at the side, checking my vitals like I was just another chart to tick off.

“You’re free to go when you’re ready,” she said softly. But nothing in her voice sounded like kindness.

I couldn’t mourn. I wasn’t allowed to. I’d been hollowed out, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to grieve with.

Still, I got up. My legs trembled beneath me, but I stood. Pulled on my clothes. Buttoned up the pain.

I was going to face him. And then I saw them. Right outside the hospital doors, standing like a perfect picture.

Cameron and Sofia were laughing. He had his hand on her belly, beaming. “I still can’t believe it. You’re pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

A sharp pain twisted through my chest.

They didn’t see me at first. I walked past them slowly, quietly, like a ghost. Then Cameron spotted me.

“Oh, great. You’re awake.” His voice was casual, light. “Can you grab some fruit for Sofia then come back here? She’s craving mangoes… and we still need to stay here for a while.”

I blinked at him. Just hours ago, he forced me to terminate our pregancy. Now he was asking me to run errands for the woman carrying his real baby.

People nearby were watching. Whispering. Pity in their eyes. Disgust in their mouths.

“There’s the neglected wife.”

“She’s ruining a happy couple.”

“Poor Sofia, having to deal with that woman still hanging around.”

I nodded. Didn’t say a word.

Then I turned and walked away. But I didn’t buy mangoes.

I walked straight to the tallest building Cameron owned.

Fifty-two floors of cold, gleaming glass. It reflected the city like a mirror—shiny on the outside, empty within. Just like him. I didn’t wait for my uncle. Even if he came… what would be the point? There was nothing left to save.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the top floor. The ride up felt endless, yet far too quick. The moment the doors opened, I climbed the last flight of stairs to the rooftop and pushed the door open.

The city below looked tiny, a mess of streets and moving cars. Far in the distance, the river curled around the skyline like a silver ribbon, glinting faintly under the overcast light.

I stood at the edge. 

Inside the hospital, Cameron finally noticed I was not coming back. At first, he brushed it off—maybe I’d taken longer than expected. Maybe I was sulking. Again.

But when a staff member rushed into the lobby, breathless, everything changed.

“Sir,” she said, almost afraid to speak, “I think… I think someone’s on the rooftop of the tower.”

He didn’t react.

“Sir, it’s a woman. In a white dress. She’s standing on the ledge. One of the guards said she looked pale. Shaking. It might be—”

“What? Who? Why do I need to care—”

“I think it’s your wife.”

Upon hearing that, Cameron felt something in his chest he never felt before. Then, he ran. By the time he burst through the rooftop door, I was already there on the edge.

“Alicia!” His voice cracked from the effort, the fear.

I turned slowly. It was the first time we’d looked each other in the eye in weeks. Maybe longer. And in that one glance, something in him shifted.

His breath caught. His face fell. He looked… terrified.

“Alicia,” he said again, softer this time, like if he moved too fast, I’d vanish. “Stop! If this is one of your schemes to get my attention, then I’m here. Get down now—”

“I already did everything,” I replied, my voice calm. “I gave up everything. And you still took more.”

His throat bobbed. “We can fix this. We’ll talk, we’ll—”

“No,” I said. “There’s nothing left to fix. You killed my parents. You killed my baby! I begged you to let me keep our child and you didn’t even flinch. You celebrated with your mistress while I was lying in a hospital bed, mourning the only thing I had left.”

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he said, voice rising with desperation. “I know I’ve hurt you. But this isn’t the way. Don’t… don’t jump.”

I saw the panic flare in Cameron’s eyes.

I smiled softly.

“I’m done, Cameron. Be happy because this is the last time you’ll ever see me.”

And I jumped.