Share My Husband? I'm Out Novel by ElaraThorne _ Novel





Share My Husband? I'm Out Chapter 01

After his brother died, my husband told me— I had to share him with his sister-in-law.
I thought he was just helping her. I was wrong.
She played the victim. Said I was the mistress. Turned everyone against me. They beat me in public.
I called my husband for help, but I got "Not today. It's her turn" in return.
That same day, my dad died because of rumors. And he still chose her.
So I made my choice.
A shared husband? She can keep it.
I'm done.
--
Elizabeth Leviton's husband, Beckham Bostridge—Philadelphia's wealthiest tycoon—had proposed a so-called "split marriage arrangement" right after their wedding. And it was all for his twin brother's widow, Avanie Jerreat.
The arrangement meant Elizabeth had to share her husband with another woman. She was allotted only half of Beckham's time—Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
Over the years, no matter how intense the intimacy between Elizabeth and Beckham became, the moment the clock struck midnight, he would dress and leave without the slightest hesitation.
Even when Elizabeth ran a high fever of 41°C, if it fell on a Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday, Beckham would only say coldly, "Today is Ava's day. Call a doctor. Don't come to me."
To make matters worse, Avanie frequently posted sorrowful updates on social media. Over time, the public began to believe Elizabeth was the other woman, flooding her with insults and threats.
Her home was plastered with posters branding her with humiliating labels like "slut" and "baik."
Her car, parked by the curb, was defaced with splashes of red paint.
Even when she walked down the street, strangers would sometimes lunge at her, pulling her hair and beating her until her face was bloodied.
On the ninety-ninth time Elizabeth was publicly assaulted for being a so-called mistress, she tremblingly dialed Beckham's number.
"Who is this?" came his indifferent voice.
Fists continued to rain down on her from every direction. Clutching the phone, Elizabeth cried out with her last strength, "Beckham! Help me... I'm at—"
Before she could finish, she was cut off by his impatient voice.
"Elizabeth," he said flatly, "we agreed on a split marriage, didn't we? Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are yours. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays belong to Ava. Today is Tuesday. Per our deal, I have to be with Ava. Whatever it is, tell me tomorrow."
The line went dead. Elizabeth's heart sank, drowning in helplessness.
The crowd's laughter intensified.
"See? Even Mr. Bostridge doesn't want anything to do with her! She's definitely the mistress!"
"Exactly! Avanie is a famous influencer with millions of followers. How could some housewife be more worthy of Mr. Bostridge than her? A homewrecker like her deserves to be beaten to death!"
Fists and kicks rained down on Elizabeth once more. A dull, agonizing pain shot through her ribs, and blood from her split lip dripped down her chin.
Elizabeth curled up on the pavement, yet she barely registered the physical assault. What hurt far more was her heart—the heart that had once loved Beckham so deeply, so unquestioningly.
Amidst the agony, her vision blurred, and memories from years ago surfaced.
In the early days of their marriage, Beckham had been the ideal husband—the kind everyone envied.
He would search the city late at night to find her favorite honey lemon tea when she was dealing with period cramps. On stormy nights, as she cowered in the corner of the bed, he would pull her close and hold her tight until she fell peacefully asleep in his arms. Whenever she worked late, he always made sure a warm lamp was left on to welcome her home.
Back then, Elizabeth truly believed she had married the best man in the world, certain that their future would be a lifelong romance that would carry them into old age together.
Then, tragedy struck.
One day, Beckham returned home, his eyes bloodshot. He told her that his twin brother, Brayden Bostridge, had passed away, leaving behind a frail and sickly widow, Avanie.
Terrified that Avanie would be consumed by grief if she learned the truth, Beckham decided to pose as Brayden. From that moment on, his life was split. He would spend Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with Elizabeth, and Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays with Avanie.
He promised Elizabeth repeatedly that he would reveal the truth once Avanie's mental state had stabilized.
Seeing him fragile and helpless for the first time, Elizabeth felt sorry for him. So she nodded, giving him her consent.
She believed it would be a temporary sacrifice—a simple gesture of understanding between a husband and wife.
She had no idea that this would make her life a living hell.
From that day on, even when she and Beckham were in the midst of deep intimacy, the moment the clock struck midnight, he would assume the role of his twin brother. Cold and detached, he would push her away to go to Avanie without a second thought.
To reassure Avanie further, he even began appearing in public as Brayden, claiming it was actually Beckham who had passed away.
As a result, Elizabeth was publicly branded a mistress. Behind closed doors, she cried, argued, and told Beckham how much she regretted the arrangement.
But Beckham's response never changed. "This is only a temporary measure. Ava is too fragile to handle any more stress. I'll explain everything when the time is right."
With no other choice, Elizabeth kept believing him, waiting indefinitely, and clinging to his excuses for comfort.
But now, she finally figured it out as lying on the ground with her face covered in blood and her body battered, all while Beckham was busy playing house with Avanie.
He wasn't doing this out of loyalty to his brother. He had clearly fallen in love with his sister-in-law, Avanie.
***
When she finally opened her eyes, Elizabeth found herself lying in her own king-sized bed. The slightest movement sent a sharp, tearing agony through the wounds on her back.
Struggling, she sat up and asked the butler, "Who brought me home?"
The butler hesitated, guiltily avoiding her gaze. "The police. Today is Thursday, so Mr. Bostridge is with Ms. Jerreat."
The butler expected Elizabeth to break down in tears as she always did. To his surprise, she only looked up with a vacant, indifferent expression. "You can go."
Once the butler had left, she dialed a number.
"Professor Veckerman, I've made up my mind. I'm going to fulfill my mother's last wish and go abroad to join the secret cryogenic research project."
Her mother had been a pioneer in cryogenic technology, but she had unfortunately passed away before ever seeing the experiment succeed.
Once, Elizabeth had abandoned her career as a scientist and neglected her mother's dying wish just to marry Beckham.
Now that reality had stripped away everything she once held dear, she could see this was her best choice.
There was a hesitant pause on the other end of the line. "Beth, have you truly made up your mind? Once you join this secret project, we will wipe your official records from the country. You may never see Mr. Bostridge again for the rest of your life..."
"I'm sure." Elizabeth closed her eyes, sealing her resolve. "I'll leave in seven days."
After hanging up, she had just closed her eyes to catch her breath when her phone on the nightstand rang sharply again.
As soon as she answered, the caregiver's panicked voice burst through the speaker. "Ms. Leviton! Ms. Jerreat showed up at the nursing home today and told your father that you're a homewrecker... You know your father. He's spent his whole life as a respected educator; he values his dignity and integrity above all else. He collapsed the moment he heard it!
"The doctor just issued a critical condition notice—it's an acute cerebral hemorrhage. He's in emergency surgery right now, Ms. Leviton!"

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