Chapter 4

A nurse at the clinic finally came, her expression disdainful.

She dabbed at my face with a rough paper towel, muttering about "drama."

The burn wasn't severe, mostly first-degree, but it stung, and the humiliation stung more.

The drive home was silent. Ethan didn't speak, didn't look at me.

The woman who threw the coffee, I saw her again later that week, outside my building.

She just stared. It was terrifying. Was she stalking me?

I rushed inside, my heart pounding.

The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.

I called out for Ethan. No answer.

I walked towards our bedroom, a growing dread in my stomach.

The door was slightly ajar.

I heard sounds. A woman's soft laugh, then a moan.

Tiffany's laugh.

My hand froze on the doorknob. I couldn't breathe.

I pushed the door open.

There they were. Ethan and Tiffany. In our bed.

My clothes, things I'd worn, were strewn on the floor, discarded like trash.

Tiffany was wearing my favorite silk nightgown, the one Ethan had bought me in Paris.

She saw me. Her eyes, heavy-lidded with pleasure, widened in mock surprise.

Then, a slow, cruel smile spread across her face.

Ethan rolled off her, not even bothering to cover himself, his expression one of annoyance, not shame.

"Sarah," he said, as if I were an unwelcome interruption.

Tiffany sat up, the silk nightgown falling off one shoulder.

"Oh, honey, you're home," she purred. "Didn't you know? Ethan only married you for the Hamilton name, for access to your family's company. He told me so himself."

She gestured around the room. "And the wedding night? Please. You were gang-raped, sweetie. He filmed the whole thing. For posterity."

My mind went blank. Gang-raped. Filmed.

The words echoed in the luxurious room, stripping away the last vestiges of my sanity.

Suddenly, Tiffany shrieked.

She grabbed a crystal vase from the nightstand – my vase – and smashed it on the floor.

Before I could react, she snatched a sharp shard, raked it across her own cheek, drawing blood.

Then, quick as a snake, she pressed the bloody shard into my hand.

"She attacked me!" Tiffany screamed, tears welling in her eyes. "Ethan, she's crazy! She tried to kill me!"

She clutched her face. "A psychic told us, Ethan! She said Sarah's baby, these babies, they would ruin your career, your life! She's trying to destroy everything!"

Ethan was looking at Tiffany, then at me, his face hardening.

He believed her.