Chapter 1

"Two years, Alex. It's been two years."

My voice was a dry whisper, lost in the vast, cold living room.

I was on my knees on the marble floor, my hands gripping the hem of his expensive trousers, my head bowed.

Two years. For two years since his mother' s death, this had been my life. He blamed me. He said I knew his mother was sick and hid it from him so his company' s IPO would go smoothly.

It was a lie, a delusion born from his grief, but it became his truth. And his truth became my prison.

He brought women home. Different ones every week. They wore my robes, used my perfume, and slept in our bed. My job was to welcome them, serve them, and clean up after them.

I endured it all. I swallowed every ounce of humiliation because I needed his money.

My father was sick. His treatments were astronomically expensive, and Alex Thorne, my husband, was the only one who could afford them.

"So what if it's been two years?" Alex's voice was ice. He didn't even look at me, his eyes fixed on the tablet in his hand, scrolling through stock prices. "You still owe me."

A woman with bright red hair, barely twenty, was curled up on the sofa beside him. She giggled, a sound that grated on my nerves. Her name was Sarah. She was the new one.

"Please, Alex," I begged, my throat tight. "The hospital called. My father... he's in critical condition. They need to operate immediately. I need the money."

He finally looked down, his lips twisting into a sneer. "Your father? Why should I care about your father?"

"He's dying, Alex!" My voice cracked. Tears I had held back for so long started to fall, hot and useless, onto the cold marble.

"Let him die," he said, his voice flat. "It' s what he deserves for having a daughter like you."

Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Don't let her upset you, Alex. She's just being dramatic to get your attention."

"I'm not!" I cried out, desperation clawing at my insides. "I'll do anything. Please, just save him."

Alex pushed his chair back, standing up so abruptly that I stumbled backward. He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my skin, forcing my head up. His eyes, once full of love, were now just empty pits of hatred.

"Anything?" he repeated softly, dangerously.

He glanced at Sarah, who was watching us with a smug, triumphant smile.

"Then go clean the toilets. With a toothbrush," he commanded. "Maybe if you scrub hard enough, I' ll consider it."

He shoved me away. I fell hard onto the floor, my hip screaming in protest. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my abdomen, sharp and sudden. I gasped, clutching my stomach for a moment before the humiliation washed over me again.

He and Sarah laughed. It was a cruel, echoing sound that filled the cavernous room.

As I struggled to my feet, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely answer it. It was the hospital.

"Mrs. Thorne?" a gentle voice said on the other end. "I... I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. Your father, Mr. Davis... he passed away about an hour ago."

The world went silent. The laughter, the cold room, the pain-it all faded away.

Passed away.

An hour ago.

While I was on my knees, begging for a life that was already gone.

"How?" I managed to choke out, the word feeling like sand in my mouth.

There was a pause. "There was a note, Mrs. Thorne. He... he took his own life. He wrote that he didn't want to be a burden to you any longer."

A gut-wrenching sob tore from my throat. My father. My sweet, loving father. He had done it for me. To free me.

Alex snatched the phone from my hand. "Who is this?" he barked into it. "What? He' s dead? Good. Saves me the money."

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa. It skidded across the silk cushions and fell to the floor with a clatter.

"See?" he said to Sarah, a smirk on his face. "Problem solved."

I stared at him, my heart shattering into a million pieces. The man I had once loved, the man I had married, was a monster.

"He's dead," I whispered, the reality of it crashing down on me like a tidal wave. "My father is dead."

"I heard," Alex said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Now, are you going to clean the toilets or not? You said you'd do anything. I'm waiting."

He looked at me, his eyes cold and unforgiving. He didn' t just not care; he was enjoying this. He was savoring my pain.

Something inside me snapped. The part of me that had held on, that had endured, that had hoped-it just broke.

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

He raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"I said no," I repeated, getting to my feet. My legs felt shaky, but my resolve was like steel. "I want a divorce, Alex."

He laughed, a short, ugly sound. "A divorce? You think you're in a position to demand anything from me, Chloe?"

He walked toward me, backing me into a corner. "You'll get your divorce. But first, you'll fulfill your promise. You'll get on your knees." He paused, his eyes glinting. "And you'll apologize to Sarah. You upset her."

I looked at Sarah. She was pretending to cry, dabbing at her dry eyes. "She was so mean to me, Alex."

"I know, baby," he cooed, stroking her hair. He turned back to me, his face hard. "Apologize. Now."

My father was dead. My world had ended. And here I was, being told to apologize to the woman who had laughed at my pain. The absurdity, the sheer cruelty of it all, filled me with a cold, empty rage.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. I would do this one last thing. I would sign the papers, and then I would be free.

I knelt. Again.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words tasting like poison.

"That's not good enough," Alex said. He grabbed the toothbrush from the cleaning caddy in the hall and threw it at my feet. "Now get to work. And after you're done with the bathrooms, you can polish my shoes. Sarah and I are going out."

He led her away, their laughter echoing behind them as they went upstairs to get ready.

I stayed on the floor, the toothbrush cold against my palm. I could smell Sarah' s cheap perfume lingering in the air, mixing with the scent of Alex's expensive cologne. It was the smell of my life for the past two years. The smell of my own personal hell. And in that moment, I knew. I wasn't just going to leave him. I was going to erase him.