Chapter 4

The "therapy room" was a stark contrast to the opulent penthouse. It was a cold, sparsely furnished chamber, devoid of windows, soundproofed. A single cot, a small table, a steel door. A prison.

Hours later, Edgar returned. He found me curled on the cot, my body still aching from Amelie's attack and the guards' rough handling. My cheek throbbed, a constant reminder of the physical assault.

He sat on the edge of the cot, his presence heavy, suffocating. He reached out, gently touching the angry red marks on my cheek. I flinched, pulling away, but he held firm.

"Does it hurt, my love?" he asked, his voice laced with fake tenderness. "Amelie can be... spirited. But she cares for you, in her own way."

My stomach churned. He was still playing the game. Still gaslighting me.

"She attacked me, Edgar," I said, my voice hoarse, but steady. I looked him dead in the eye. "She broke my grandmother's brooch. The one with the Everett crest."

His face darkened, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossing his features. "She told me you tried to attack her first. That you were trying to grab something. She was defending herself." He picked up the broken brooch, which he must have brought with him. He examined the snapped filigree. "This was very important to her, Elise. She claimed you were trying to destroy it, out of jealousy."

My blood ran cold. The sheer audacity. He was twisting the truth so easily, so naturally. Making me the aggressor, the jealous one.

"Jealousy?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. "That was my grandmother's, Edgar! My family's! She broke it! She destroyed something irreplaceable!"

He held up a hand. "Now, now, Elise. Let's not exaggerate. It's an old piece. And Amelie... it was a gift to her from me. From the Everett family." He looked at me, his eyes hard. "You must understand, Elise, that Amelie is now the face of Everett Industries. She carries your family name. Your legacy. This brooch, it represents that. It was hers to do with as she pleased. You had no right to try and take it from her."

The words hit me like a physical blow. No right. My own family heirloom. Gifts from my parents and grandparents. Given to Amelie. Given to the woman who was pretending to be me. And I had no right.

A cold, unshakeable rage settled in my soul. This man, my former husband, was a monster. A true monster.

"So, you're saying," I said, my voice dripping with ice, "that my inheritance, my family's heirlooms, my very name... they all belong to Amelie now? And I, Elise Everett, have no right to them? No right to anything?"

He smiled, a chillingly pleasant smile. "Exactly, my love. You understand perfectly. You are my precious Elise. And Amelie... she is the public face. The one who carries on the name. She represents everything you once were." He paused, his gaze sweeping over my battered face, my torn clothes. "And everything you no longer are."

My body trembled, not with fear, but with a terrifying fury. He was reveling in my humiliation, in my helplessness. He enjoyed stripping me of everything.

"You are despicable," I whispered, the words barely audible. "You are truly, utterly despicable."

His smile didn't falter. "Such harsh words, my love. But I forgive you. You're still recovering. And you need to be taught. To learn your place. To understand the new reality."

He stood up, towering over me. "Amelie needs to feel secure. She needs to know that you won't threaten her position. And you, my darling, need to learn proper behavior." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, exquisite emerald pendant. My mother's pendant. The one I had seen Amelie wearing.

He dangled it in front of me. "I believe this was yours once. Now it's Amelie's. She cherishes it. As she should. It's a symbol of her new life. Just as this..." He gestured to the room around me. "... is a symbol of yours. A quiet, protected life. As my... companion."

He paused, then tossed the pendant onto the cot beside me. "This is a gift, Elise. A token of my generosity. To remind you of whose kindness keeps you alive. And to remind you of who truly controls everything now."

I stared at the emerald, then at him. The cold hatred in my heart solidified. He was giving me my own mother's jewelry as a "gift" for my good behavior. It was beyond cruel. It was a calculated act of psychological torture.

"I will never forget this, Edgar," I said, my voice low, filled with a promise of retribution. "Never."

He chuckled, a mirthless sound. "Oh, I hope you do, my love. For your own sake." He walked towards the door. "Tomorrow, you will begin your 're-education.' You will learn how to be a proper companion. How to be grateful. How to be... pliable."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Re-education?"

He turned back, a chilling smile on his face. "Yes. We need to make sure you behave, my dear. After all, you're quite a handful when you're not properly... managed." He paused at the door. "And your first lesson starts with a familiar face. Someone who knows you well. Someone who can help you understand your new role."

He opened the door. Standing there was a woman. My former personal assistant. A woman I had trusted implicitly, a woman who had worked for me for years. Her name was Brenda. She had betrayed me too.

My stomach dropped. Brenda. The woman who knew all my secrets, all my vulnerabilities. The woman who now stood there, a cold, unfeeling expression on her face, like a prison guard.

"Edgar," I said, my voice trembling, a genuine tremor of disgust. "What is the meaning of this?"

He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Brenda is here to help you, Elise. To guide you. To teach you how to be the perfect companion. She knows all your old habits. She knows how to break them." His gaze was mocking. "After all, who better to 'manage' you than someone you once considered a friend?"

My blood ran cold. The humiliation. The betrayal. Brenda, who had always been so loyal, so kind. Now, she was his instrument of torture.

"You bastard," I whispered, my voice thick with hatred. "You absolute bastard."

He simply shrugged, his smile unwavering. "Such language, Elise. Brenda will teach you better. Won't you, Brenda?"

Brenda stepped forward, her eyes devoid of warmth. "Yes, Mr. Daniels. I'll ensure Ms. Everett understands her new position."

I stared at her, then back at Edgar. A wave of nausea washed over me. He wasn't just controlling me; he was defiling my past, twisting every relationship I had ever valued. This was a new low.

"You won't get away with this, Edgar," I said, my voice rising, fueled by a sudden, desperate surge of defiance. "You won't break me."

He laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Oh, my dear Elise. You're already broken. You just don't know it yet." He turned to leave, but not before casting one last, chilling glance over his shoulder.

"Welcome to your new life, Elise."

The door clanged shut, plunging me back into the silent, suffocating darkness. I stood there, trembling, the emerald pendant still on the cot. Brenda stood silently just inside the door, her face a blank mask. He had truly thought of everything.

But he had underestimated me. He had underestimated the fire that now burned in my soul. He wanted to break me? He would only forge me stronger. He wanted me to be pliable? He would find a steel blade where he expected putty.

My revenge would be slow, methodical, and utterly devastating. And he would never see it coming.