Chapter 3
When my week off was up, I headed back to campus right on schedule.
My advisor, Harold Cruz, had called me a bunch of times, insisting I come back and handle the situation.
I told him straight up that I didn't know this guy, and the person on that marriage license wasn't me.
"Even if it's not you, you still need to come back and explain yourself," he snapped.
"Then why is he only targeting you and no one else?" he pressed.
Now, I was standing in the department head's office.
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
"Took you long enough to find her. Is this school just trying to cover for this bitch?" a voice snapped.
The door opened, and when I turned to look, I saw that face again—the one that still freaked me out.
The second he saw me, he just lunged straight at me, trying to hit me.
I glared at him, rage burning in my eyes. For a split second, confusion flickered in his gaze.
With a smack, the slap jerked my head sideways. My ear rang. Half my face went numb. All I could feel was this weird, swollen numbness.
Then came a storm of punches, raining down on me.
"You bitch! Thought you could just run away? You really think I wouldn't find you?" he snarled.
"Still got the guts to glare at me? You ripped me off for all that cash," he yelled.
"Damn, you even cut your hair off? Where's that flirty look you had when you used to trap me with?" he spat.
"You promised you'd drop out and come home to pop out my kids, but the minute you got back to school, you ghosted me. Fucking bitch!" he roared.
I was getting beaten so badly that I couldn't even lift my head. I wanted to scream at him, to shout that I wasn't the one who married him.
"Stop it! Stop right now, or we're calling the cops," someone finally shouted.
The school staff could no longer just watch. Afraid he might really kill me, they rushed forward and pulled him back.
Michael finally stopped, panting hard, and barked out, totally unfazed.
He said, "This is a family matter. Even if I kill her, the cops won't get involved.
"I'm gonna report you all to the police. This school produces shameless girls like her. Who knows how many men she's been with while hiding here?
"Why are you covering for her? Don't tell me you're sleeping with her too?"
The department head, probably never having dealt with someone so aggressive and unreasonable, fell silent and didn't dare speak up for me anymore.
Michael glanced around, seeing that no one dared to challenge him, and smirked with satisfaction.
"I want my wife withdrawn from school," he announced proudly.
Gritting my teeth through the pain, I pushed myself up, yanked out my phone, and called the cops.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you little bitch?" Michael snapped.
He hadn't expected it. I'd already dialed before he could even react.
"Police! I'm in the department head's office at Riverdale University, Commerce Hall. I'm being attacked. He's trying to traffic me. Please, come now!" I yelled into the phone.
"Third floor, Commerce Hall. Help!" I screamed.
"Bitch!" Michael snarled.
He lunged at me, snatched my phone, and slapped me again without a second thought.
"You really think the police will help you? Dream on," he sneered.
I glanced at the phone, still connected, and gave him a cold smile.
"Did you think a fake marriage license gives you the right to traffic women?" I shot back.
"I don't even know you," I snapped, glaring at him.
"You might fool the school with that fake certificate, but the police won't fall for it," I shouted.
Without another word, I bolted behind Harold.
"Please, whatever you believe, keep me safe until the cops get here," I begged.
Michael lunged at me again, but Harold finally snapped into action and jumped in to block him. In the chaos, Michael even managed to smack Harold, knocking his glasses sideways.
"So you're covering for this bitch too? What, did she sleep with every single one of you?" Michael spat, his eyes full of contempt.
"Don't talk crap!" Harold snapped, his face flushed with shame and anger.
Now that he was the one being accused, I wondered if he'd still say, "Why is he only targeting you and not anyone else?"
Michael sneered, "She's my wife. You think you can just sleep with her for free?
"I spent a lot of money on her, you know. You think you don't owe me anything?"
He stopped swinging and just stood there with his hands on his hips, taunting Harold and the department head, certain he had them under his thumb.
When the cops walked in, they heard him boasting loudly, looking all proud of himself.
"I'll let you have her for 70 dollars a pop. She's a college girl. Can't beat that deal," he said, grinning like he was promoting a special offer.
"So, we've got assault, trafficking, and now you're offering to sell her?" a cop snapped, cutting in coldly.
With just one question, the smugness vanished from Michael's face.
"Officer, help me! I swear I don't even know this guy," I yelled, panic all over my face.
"Sir, this is just a domestic matter," Michael jumped in, trying to play it cool.
We both spoke at the same time, but when Michael heard me defy him, his hand shot up again, ready to strike.
The cop stepped in and blocked him before he could touch me.
"What do you think you're doing? Trying to hit her right in front of us?" the cop snapped.
Even after getting yelled at, Michael stood his ground, defiant, as if he was above it all.
"Cops or not, so what? I'm just disciplining my unfaithful wife. It's my right," he spat, completely unfazed.
The cop looked him up and down, like he was trash, then glanced at me with an expression that said he couldn't believe I'd end up with someone like him.
"Show me your IDs," the cop demanded.
I pulled my ID out of my bag and handed it over. Michael, meanwhile, flashed both his own ID and the marriage license at the cops.