My Pilot Husband Kicked Me Out During a Storm

The storm raged outside. I'd just settled into my first-class seat when a flight attendant approached, her expression apologetic.

Ms. Sterling, I'm terribly sorry. Due to overbooking and the captain's request, we need you to take the next flight out.

My eyes darted to my seat. There, wrapped in my husband Blake Harrison's pilot jacket, sat Chloe Davis, his childhood sweetheart.

She was curled up, her face half-buried in the uniform collar.

"Ava, I'm so sorry...It's just so stormy, and I'm so scared..."

I ignored her, pushing past the flight attendant and heading straight for the cockpit door.

Blake emerged from his seat. His gaze was cold, final.

"Ava, Chloe's always been timid. She only feels safe when I'm flying the plane. As my wife, you should understand. Let her have the seat."

"So you do remember I'm your wife?" I let out a dry laugh. "Three years ago, when my appendix nearly burst and I begged you to fly me home for surgery, what was your excuse?

Blake's frown deepened, his annoyance plain at being challenged in front of so many people. He closed the distance between us, his voice dropping into the cold, condescending register he used on junior staff.

"Regulations prohibit transporting an unstable patient. It was a policy call."

My gaze shifted past him to Chloe. Her phone screen glowed in her lap, the lock screen showing a brazen selfie taken from inside a cockpit, her cheek pressed against Blake's in the pilot's seat.

A fresh wave of fury crested in me. "And you must know the regulations prohibit taking passengers into the cockpit for photos?"

Blake stiffened, a flush of anger creeping up his neck. "Chloe was curious. I let her look for one minute. That's all."

Just then, Chloe let out a sharp yelp. The paper cup in her hand "slipped," sending a splash of scalding water across her own skin.

"Oh! That hurts so much!"

Blake's head snapped toward a flight attendant. "What are you waiting for? Get a burn kit. Now!"

Then he turned to me and ordered the flight attendant to escort me off the plane.

A staff member stood awkwardly beside me, holding my carry-on. I snatched it from his hands and stepped back into the relentless rain, soaked through in seconds.

I stood there, watching the plane bearing my family's crest taxi toward the runway.

Finally, I pulled out my phone and made a call.

I spent the night in the VIP lounge.

Early the next morning, a SnapChat from Blake appeared: a screenshot of a $5,000 transfer.

A voice message followed seconds later, his tone dripping with condescending reassurance.

"Last night was an emergency. Sorry for the inconvenience. Use this to book another first-class ticket, or buy yourself a bag to cheer up. Chloe's young and fragile. Don't pick fights with her."

I didn't reply. I just blocked him.

The house was silent when I returned. On the table sat a neatly wrapped gift bag-Blake's apology, delivered after he landed the night before.

I opened it.

Inside lay a bottle of perfume, a generic staple from the duty-free shop. The irony was almost physical: it was the exact "man-magnet" fragrance Chloe had raved about on her social media.

Before I could even move to throw it away, the front door slammed open. Blake was back. He still hadn't grasped the gravity of anything, walking in with a couple of his co-pilots, their laughter and casual banter filling the silent house.

Chloe followed close behind him, clinging to his arm like a trophy.

When he saw me on the sofa, Blake's smile wavered for a second. He walked over and gave my shoulder a patronizing pat. "Why are you ignoring my messages? Still in a mood?"

"My friends are here. Chloe even bought groceries to cook as her way of apologizing. Be the bigger person."

His co-pilots joined in, their voices a chorus of false diplomacy. "Blake does care, Ava. He bought you that perfume." "Come on, Chloe's not as strong as you. Just let it go."

I sat perfectly still, watching them. Watching them systematically dismantle my feelings and expect me to smile through it.

Then I rose slowly, my eyes locked on the hand he still had on my shoulder.

"Take it off."

Blake froze. "Ava, are you serious? I told you it was a special situation! Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

I picked up the freshly printed documents from the table and slapped them against his face.

"All I know is you abused your authority. You illegally kicked me out of first class and took my seat. That's a serious violation of passenger rights!"

One of the papers drifted to Chloe's feet. It was a high-resolution security footage screenshot of her entering the cockpit.

Blake's face instantly went ashen. He snapped his head towards me, his voice trembling. "You... you pulled the security footage? Are you crazy? That's classified company information!"

"Oh, so now it's classified?" I sneered, taking a step closer. "Furthermore, you brought an unauthorized person into the cockpit. You know the charges for that under aviation law, don't you?"

The tension was suffocating. Chloe, seeing things turning bad, burst into tears. She suddenly clutched her stomach, collapsing into Blake's arms with a pained gasp.

"Blake... my stomach hurts so bad..."

"Our baby... please tell me our baby will be okay!"

Her words hit like a bombshell, exploding in the living room. The co-pilots exchanged stunned glances, their faces a mix of shock and embarrassment.

Blake looked as if he'd found a lifeline. His initial panic instantly transformed into pure elation as he tightly embraced Chloe.

"Baby? Are you saying... you're pregnant?"

Chloe blushed, giving me a timid glance before nodding.

Blake sharply looked up at me, the alarm in his eyes replaced by self-righteous confidence. "Ava, did you hear that?"

"Chloe is carrying my child! That's why I was so concerned about her, why I insisted she take that seat! We've been married for seven years, and you couldn't give me a child. My mother has been hounding us for years! Now Chloe has my baby, how dare you be jealous?"

The more he spoke, the more justified he felt, his back straightening with arrogance.

"For the sake of the child, let's forget about this. Go ahead and destroy those documents, then call the company and make sure this whole thing is swept under the rug."

"If you're obedient, once the baby is born, you can be the godmother. I won't divorce you. The Mrs. Harrison title will still be yours."

I looked at his despicable face, my stomach churning with disgust. Even a dog I'd raised for seven years would show more loyalty. Yet, the man I'd adored for seven years was now using the cruelest words to attack my deepest wound.

I said nothing, merely turned and walked to the foyer, opening the front door.

"Ava! Did you hear me?!"

Blake assumed I'd caved. He started to walk towards the bedroom with Chloe in his arms. "Go make the bed for Chloe; she needs to rest."

I watched him with a mocking smile. Seeing me unmoving, his brows furrowed deeply. He stopped, turned around, and spoke in a tone so entitled it was almost a command.

"What are you standing there for? Didn't you hear Chloe say she's in pain? The master bedroom mattress is custom Italian, good for the back. Go change the sheets, get fresh ones. Don't use the ones you've slept on; that's just gross."

The air in the living room solidified. The co-pilots, who had been watching the spectacle unfold, suddenly found their phones fascinating.

To ask me, a woman worth billions, to change sheets and make a bed for his mistress. Only Blake would have the nerve.

I stood rooted to the spot, my nails biting into my palms, yet a cold laugh escaped me.

"Blake, have you forgotten? This mansion is mine. The master bedroom is my room. And that bed? I paid for that, too."

In his arms, Chloe shrank back at just the right moment, her eyes reddening, her voice dropping to a faint, trembling whisper.

"Blake... please don't fight with Ava over me. It's okay if I don't sleep in the master bedroom. Even though the doctor said I have signs of a potential miscarriage and can't endure a hard mattress, I can manage..."

She bit her lip, putting on a heartbroken, understanding look, yet every word she uttered was designed to throw me under the bus.

As expected, Blake's fury ignited. He carefully placed Chloe on the sofa and strode towards me. That overbearing presence, which I'd once cherished as security in our marriage, now felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

"Ava, when did you become so malicious? Is a human life less important to you than a bed?" He seized my wrist with shocking force, dragging me towards the stairs.

"If you won't move, I'll make you move!"

"Blake! Let me go!" I fought wildly, stumbling as he hauled me up the stairs.

At the master bedroom door, he wrenched it open and shoved me inside. He swept a hand toward my scattered belongings, his gaze pure ice. "This room is Chloe's now. All your perfumes, your makeup, this whole pile of useless junk...I want it gone!"

Then he grabbed the frame from my dresser, the one with our third anniversary photo, and smashed it on the floor.

CRASH!

Glass shards scattered. The smiling faces in the photo, once so tender, were now fractured and sliced apart by the fragments.

"No!" The cry tore from my throat as I lunged instinctively. Beneath it lay a cherished family photo of my parents and me, my most precious keepsake.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Blake didn't give me a chance to react. Eager to assert his dominance in front of his friends and mistress, and perhaps to cover up his own guilt, his actions grew more brutal. He grabbed a crystal ornament from my bedside table, a limited edition coming-of-age gift my father had given me before he passed away.

"What is this garbage doing here, taking up space?!" He raised his hand, ready to hurl it into the hallway.

"Blake! That was from my father!"?I threw myself forward, a woman possessed, clawing to get it back.

During our struggle, a flicker of impatient brutality crossed Blake's eyes.

"Get out of my way! Don't push your luck!" He swung his arm, shoving me hard.

Wearing high heels, my balance was already precarious. I lost control, falling backward. A searing pain exploded in my lower back as I slammed into the sharp corner of a wooden dresser, and my vision blurred.

But what I couldn't avoid was the shattered glass on the floor. My hand slammed onto the fragments.

"Agh-"

Blood instantly gushed out, staining the expensive hand-knotted rug and soaking the shattered family photo.

Pain. Excruciating pain.

I slumped to the floor, clutching my bleeding hand, my face ashen as I stared at the man I had loved for seven years.

Blake's eyes visibly flashed with alarm when he saw the blood. But he quickly straightened his back, looking down at me, his voice devoid of guilt, instead filled with blame.

"You brought this on yourself by trying to grab it. Whose fault is that but your own?"

"Ava, look at you, acting like some kind of raging lunatic. Where's your elegant upbringing? No wonder you can't keep a man."

Chloe heard the commotion downstairs and leaned over the stairwell. She covered her mouth, her face a mask of feigned terror. "My god! So much blood. Blake, is Ava hurting herself just to manipulate you? How pathetic."

Her words extinguished the last trace of hesitation in Blake's eyes. He stepped over my bleeding hand as if it were a piece of trash on the floor.

"If you love this mess so much, you can sleep with it in the guest room. And if I hear one more sound from you that upsets Chloe..."

He crouched, his hand gripping my chin and forcing my head up. His fingers dug in with a pressure that threatened to crack bone.

"Ava, don't make me hit a woman."

"Apologize to Chloe. And get out!"

At that moment-

BANG!

The front door downstairs exploded inward with a deafening crash. A voice, old but ringing with absolute authority, echoed through the mansion.

"Let's see who dares to lay a finger on Ms. Sterling!"