Chasing My Innocent Ex-wife Back novel Chapter 2

2 /5

FLORENCE’S POV

The last thing I needed was more problems.

All I wanted was to take a long bath and hopefully sleep off this dilemma. But fate, as usual, had other plans. My phone suddenly rang, and the caller ID was blocked.

“Hello?” I answered.

A voice I was all too familiar with came over the line, heavy and threatening: “Where’s the money for this month? Or do you no longer care about your father’s comfort in prison?”

“Marco… please, just give me a few more days, please don’t hurt him! I’ll send you the money as soon as I can!”

“You have 48 hours, Missy. After that… who knows?”

The click on the other end told me he had hung up. It was never a long conversation with Marco—usually, he would make demands, and I would just listen.

I checked my account balance and realized I was short… very short.

My thumb hovered over Mason’s contact on my phone. I didn’t like calling to beg for money… especially after the way he stormed out of the house.

But what choice did I have?

I clenched my phone in my hand. I couldn’t afford to let my pride get in the way at this moment. No matter how much I hated this, it wasn’t just about me. It was about my father.

My father had worked for the Whitehill family business for decades. He was one of the oldest employees there, so Whitehill International was as much his baby as it was theirs. They built it together, and our family would always be thankful to theirs.

But five years ago, policemen beat down the doors of our house and arrested my father for financial fraud. The verdict came swiftly, and the only explanation I received was that he had confessed.

“Scammer!” someone was shouting.

Shock and shame crashed over me, but all I could do was stand there helplessly, watching them take my father away.

Just as I was about to despair, Mason’s father, Howard, offered me a choice.

“I never expected your father to do such a thing, but none of this is your fault.” he said, “Let Whitehill take care of you.”

He stared at me and then added, “I know you’ve always liked Mason. Do you want to marry him?”

It sounded like a trap. But in my grief over daddy’s imprisonment, and happiness over marrying my childhood love, I was blinded.

I remembered standing at the altar, my hands trembling in Mason’s, my heart pounding as I looked into the eyes of the man I had adored since childhood. I had rehearsed this moment so many times, dreaming of the day I would finally say these words to his face.

“Mason,” I said, my voice steady despite the emotions clawing at my throat. “From the moment I met you, I admired you. Not just for your brilliance or your strength, but for your kindness and generosity. I have loved you in every way a person can love another. And today, I vow to stand beside you, to be your partner in all things. To cherish, respect, and support you through every triumph and every hardship for the rest of my life.”

The priest turned to him expectantly. “Mason, now your vows.”

Silence.

A heavy, agonizing silence.

I felt my heart sink, the weight of the moment pressing down on me as the whispers among the guests started.

The priest, now uncomfortable, cleared his throat and moved forward. “Florence Hart, do you take Mason Whitehill to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed forward. “I do.”