Chapter 5 5

Maya

I woke with a throat raw from crying and eyes so swollen they felt like they'd been stitched shut. The events of yesterday crashed over me in waves, Shawn's cold eyes, the red-haired woman's predatory smile, my belongings moved like I was nothing more than an inconvenient houseguest. And then Shawn's midnight visit, his momentary softness before he'd pulled away again, leaving me with more questions than answers.

A knock at the door startled me. Carla entered, not meeting my eyes as she set down a breakfast tray.

"Dr. Harrison," she whispered, "Mr. Harrison has instructed that you be moved to the blue guest suite downstairs. It's... more comfortable. I'm to help you gather your things."

I stared at her, searching for any clue in her averted gaze. "Carla, please. My sister called about my father. I need to know if they're okay."

Her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed invisible wrinkles from her uniform. "I'm sorry, Dr. Harrison. I don't know anything about your family." She glanced nervously at the door. "We should hurry. Mr. Harrison doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Twenty minutes later, I was being escorted down the grand staircase to a spacious first-floor suite that overlooked the rose garden. My prison had been upgraded, but it was still a prison. The armed guard who had followed us at a discreet distance took up position outside my new door once Carla had shown me inside.

"Mr. Harrison said you may use the adjoining bathroom and have access to the private terrace, but please don't attempt to leave the grounds," Carla murmured, setting my suitcase on a luggage rack. "The blue button by the bed will summon me if you need anything."

Before I could ask any more questions, she slipped out, leaving me alone in the elegant suite. Despite its beauty, the room felt hollow, a gilded cage.

I moved to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the tear stains and the wrinkled remnants of my anniversary dress. The hot water of the shower couldn't cleanse the confusion and hurt that clung to me like a second skin, but at least I could face whatever new nightmare awaited with clean hair and a fresh change of clothes.

After dressing in simple jeans and a cream sweater, I stared at my wedding ring. The platinum band with its delicate diamond pattern had been crafted specifically for my hand. Should I take it off? Accept that whatever was happening had somehow erased our marriage? The thought made me physically ill.

"No," I whispered to my reflection. "I won't play along with this charade."

I squared my shoulders and walked out to the terrace, desperate for fresh air to clear my pounding head. The sunshine felt like a cruel joke against the darkness that had descended on my life.

"Well, look who's finally up."

I turned to find Vivian lounging on one of the terrace chairs, her legs crossed elegantly, a mimosa dangling from her manicured fingers. Today, she wore a blood-red jumpsuit that hugged every curve, her fiery hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that accentuated her sharp features.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice still hoarse from crying.

Vivian's lips curved into a mocking smile. "It's my house now, doctor. I can go wherever I please." She looked me up and down with undisguised contempt. "God, no wonder Shawn's eyes wander. Do you always dress like a granny? Those jeans might have been fashionable a decade ago."

I felt a headache building behind my eyes, a throbbing pressure that matched the rhythm of my heart. "I'm not interested in fashion advice from someone who clearly spends more time on their appearance than developing anything resembling a personality."

Her eyes narrowed. "Careful, doctor. You're a guest in my home now. Shawn might have felt obligated to give you better accommodations, but don't mistake that for caring. He's moved on."

I huffed a humorless laugh. "I guess you really want to provoke me, but I have no interest in whatever you're trying to do. Just let me be." I pressed my fingers to my temples, the migraine intensifying. "If you'll excuse me, I need to lie down."

I turned to go back inside, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. The sound of breaking glass made me spin around, just in time to see Vivian lifting a heavy crystal vase from the terrace table.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" she hissed, her face contorted with rage.

Before I could react, the distant sound of tires on gravel caught her attention. Her eyes widened, and a calculated look flashed across her face. With deliberate slowness, she raised the vase and smashed it against her own forehead.

Blood immediately began to trickle down her face as she screamed, the sound piercing through my shock. Vivian stumbled toward me, thrusting the now blood-stained vase into my frozen hands.

"Hold it," she commanded in a low voice, so different from her scream. "Let me clean up."

I stood there, stunned into immobility, the heavy crystal still clutched in my bloodstained hands as Vivian dabbed at the wound with exaggerated winces.

"Are you crazy?" I finally managed, my voice rising with disbelief. "What drama are you performing now?"

The sound of footsteps on marble pulled my attention to the terrace doors just as Shawn burst through them, his expression shifting from concern to confusion to something cold and unreadable as he took in the scene, Vivian bleeding, me holding the vase with blood on my hands.

"What's happening here?" he demanded, his voice dangerously quiet.

Vivian immediately dissolved into theatrical tears, collapsing against Shawn's chest. "You didn't tell me your wife was a lunatic," she sobbed, gesturing wildly at me. "She wants to break my skull! The fact that you're a doctor doesn't mean you can experiment with my skull. I won't let you go scot-free for this!"

I stared at Shawn, waiting for him to see through this pathetic performance. I was a neurosurgeon, for God's sake. If I wanted to hurt someone, I wouldn't use a clumsy vase. I knew exactly where to apply pressure for maximum damage with minimal effort.

"Maya," Shawn's voice was tight. "What did you do?"

The question hung in the air between us, a betrayal so profound it stole my breath. He was actually believing this farce? After three months of marriage, after countless nights when he'd held me through nightmares about losing patients, after promising to stand by me through everything, he thought I was capable of this?

"I'm not even surprised," I said, my voice surprisingly steady as I set the vase down on the table with deliberate care. "Nothing surprises me anymore, because I don't know who you are."

Our eyes locked, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw a flicker of the man I'd married, a flash of pain, of longing, of something desperate and unspoken. But then it was gone, replaced by the stranger who had destroyed everything in the span of twenty-four hours.

"I was trying to welcome your little pet into our home," Vivian sniffled, "and she just attacked me out of nowhere. I think she's mentally unstable, darling."

I couldn't bear to hear another word of her lies. I turned and walked toward the doors, my back straight and my head high despite the tears threatening to spill over.

Shawn's hand closed around my arm as I passed him, jerking me to a stop with surprising force. I refused to look at him, keeping my eyes fixed on a point beyond his shoulder.

"Don't mess with Vivian," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "I'm pleading."

The words were so unexpected that my eyes snapped to his face. Had he just said "pleading"? Shawn Harrison never pleaded for anything in his life. He was always so confident, so in control. The dissonance between his words and his iron grip on my arm sent confusion spiraling through me.

Before I could respond, he released me and turned back to Vivian, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders as he guided her toward the house. I stood frozen, trying to make sense of what had just happened, of what I thought I'd glimpsed in his eyes.

When they disappeared inside, I collapsed onto the nearest chair, my body shaking with adrenaline and delayed shock. The woman was clearly unstable, dangerous, even. And Shawn was choosing to believe her over me? To protect her instead of his wife?

Nothing made sense. Not Shawn's behavior, not this woman's appearance, not my imprisonment in my own home. And beyond these walls, my family might be in danger. The thought of my father and Lina drove me back to my feet.

I needed to escape. I needed answers. But more than anything, I needed to understand how the man who had vowed to love me forever could look at me with such cold detachment.

Back in my new gilded cage, I refused the lunch that was brought, unable to stomach food when my heart felt hollowed out. I had no phone, no computer, no way to contact the outside world. The guard outside my door made it clear I wasn't going anywhere.

As night fell, I curled on the bed, my wedding ring clutched in my palm like a talisman. Just yesterday morning, Shawn had kissed me goodbye, reminding me of our anniversary plans. How had everything collapsed so completely in less than two days?

"My family will come looking for me," I whispered to the empty room, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. "Lina, Mom, Dad, they'll notice I'm missing. They'll come."

But as the hours ticked by, doubt crept in. What if something had happened to them too? What if the cut-off call from Lina wasn't just bad reception? The fear that had been simmering beneath my grief and confusion bubbled to the surface.

I pressed my face into the pillow, muffling the sobs that tore from my chest. Three months ago, I had stood before my family and friends and promised to love Shawn Harrison until death parted us. I'd believed in forever, in happily ever after.

Now I lay alone in a locked room, my husband transformed into a stranger, my family unreachable, my life unraveling thread by thread.

And somewhere in the mansion, the man I loved slept beside another woman in our bed.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through me, so intense I could barely breathe. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling through tear-blurred eyes.

"Just a few more hours," I whispered to myself, clutching desperately at the shreds of my courage. "Just hold on a little longer. Someone will come. Someone will notice. Someone will help me escape this prison."

But as night deepened, I couldn't silence the voice in my head that whispered an even more terrifying possibility: What if no one was coming? What if I were truly alone?

And what if the man I would have died for was the very one ensuring I remained trapped?