Chapter 1

After three days and three nights, I thought I had finally won him over.

Liam Hayes, my husband of five years, the renowned tech mogul, had never been so passionate. I looked at him sleeping beside me, his sharp profile softened by the morning light. For the first time, I felt like his wife, not just a decoration in his mansion.

I believed this was the start of something real. I believed he finally loved me.

I crept out of bed, careful not to wake him, and went to his study to grab my laptop. His computer was on, the screen glowing faintly. A message window was open. It was a chat with my sister, Chloe.

My heart gave a little squeeze. They were close, I knew that. But a knot of unease formed in my stomach. I leaned closer, my eyes scanning the screen. My world fell apart.

On the screen was a video. It was me. In our bed. The videos were from the last three days, intimate and private. He had sent them all to Chloe.

Beneath the last video, Liam' s message was typed out in stark, black letters.

"This way she' ll finally leave me alone. Don' t worry, Chloe, I' d rather die than touch her. You' re the only one I love."

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I clicked on the audio file that followed. It was Chloe' s voice, sweet and seductive.

"Oh, Liam, I' m so touched! You found so many people to mess with her just to protect my reputation? I wonder how she' ll react when she finds out."

So many people? What did she mean?

Then, Liam' s reply. His voice was hoarse, filled with a disgust that made my skin crawl.

"She wouldn' t dare. She' s not even worth a strand of your hair. She' s so loose, it' s a blessing anyone would touch her. Besides, I have all the compromising photos and videos, so she can' t blame anyone even if she knows."

The words echoed in the silent room. "So many people." "Loose." "A blessing anyone would touch her."

It wasn't him. The man who had held me for three days wasn't Liam.

My legs gave out and I stumbled back, hitting the wall. The pieces of my five-year marriage rearranged themselves into a horrifying picture.

I thought back to all the times I had tried to get close to him. The seductive lingerie, the romantic dinners, even the time I'd foolishly tried to drug his wine, desperate for his touch.

He had always rejected me. He' d lock me out of the bedroom, making me sleep on the cold floor of the hallway. Once, after I'd put the sleeping pills in his wine, he' d forced himself to stay awake, pacing all night, his face pale with strain. He' d rather hurt himself than touch me.

I had thought he was a workaholic, a man detached from physical desires. I told myself he was just focused, that his mind was on his empire.

The truth was so much worse.

I ran back to our bedroom, my eyes searching for proof, for anything to make sense of this nightmare. There, on his bedside table, was a framed picture. It was Chloe. Smiling, radiant, in the spot that should have been mine.

I was just a stand-in. A body with a similar face. He looked at me and saw her. And for the last three days, he hadn't even been the one looking. He had sent other men. Strangers.

I felt sick. My entire body felt contaminated. I felt my feet move, carrying me out of the study, out of the bedroom, down the stairs. My mind was blank. All I could think was that I needed to get out. I needed to escape the house that had become my prison.

My feet felt like they were filled with lead. Every step was a struggle. The love I thought I had finally earned was a lie. The man I had dedicated my life to pleasing viewed me as something dirty, something to be used and discarded.

The five years of our marriage, my constant efforts, my hopes, my dreams-they were all a joke. A cruel, elaborate performance for an audience of two: him and my sister. He hated me. He was disgusted by me. And he had gone to unimaginable lengths to prove it.