Chapter 4

The next few days were a blur of quiet, suffocating horror. Gustav was a model of contrition. He brought me breakfast in bed. He read poetry to me. He held my hand and told me stories of our future, a future where we would be happy, where the world and all its ugliness couldn't touch us.

It was all a performance. And I was his captive audience.

One evening, he came into the bedroom with a triumphant smile.

"I have a surprise for you, my love," he said. "Someone is coming to stay with us. To help you. To help us."

I knew who it was before he said the name.

"Estelle is moving in."

The words hung in the air, thick and poisonous. I stared at him, my mind refusing to process it.

"She's a brilliant therapist, Janey," he continued, oblivious to the rage building inside me. "She can help you work through your grief. She can help us heal our relationship."

I started to laugh. A wild, unhinged sound that echoed in the silent room.

"You're bringing your whore into our house to 'heal' me?" I shrieked, the laughter turning into a sob. "The woman who watched you destroy my parents?"

His face tightened. "Do not speak of her that way. She cares about you."

"She cares about your money!"

Estelle appeared in the doorway then, as if on cue. She wore a simple white dress, her hair pulled back, her face a mask of gentle concern. The angel of death.

"Oh, Janey," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I know this is difficult. But I'm only here to help. Gustav is so worried about you. We both are."

She came closer, a small bottle in her hand. "I brought you something. It will help you relax. Just a mild sedative."

"Get away from me," I snarled, scrambling to the other side of the bed.

"Janey, be reasonable," Gustav said, his patience wearing thin. "She's trying to help."

He grabbed me, his fingers digging into my arms, and pinned me to the bed. Estelle approached, her smile serene, and held the pill to my lips.

"No," I gritted out, clamping my mouth shut.

Gustav squeezed my jaw, forcing it open. The pain was sharp and blinding. Estelle pushed the pill inside. I swallowed, choking, my eyes watering. He held my mouth shut until I had no choice but to let it go down.

He let me go. I scrambled to the bathroom and tried to throw it up, but it was too late. A wave of dizziness washed over me. My limbs felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish.

I stumbled back to the bed and collapsed, the world dissolving into a hazy fog. The last thing I saw was Estelle, stroking Gustav's arm, her eyes gleaming with victory.

"She'll be more manageable now," she murmured.

I slept, but it wasn't rest. My dreams were a hellscape of my parents' screams, of Gustav's cold smile, of Estelle's triumphant eyes. I woke up gasping, my body drenched in sweat, my head pounding.

The house was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet. It was the quiet of occupancy. I could feel her presence, another body in this gilded cage.

I crept out of my room. A sliver of light shone from under the guest room door, now her room. I heard voices. Moans.

His voice, thick with pleasure. "Estelle..."

Her laugh, low and throaty.

I leaned against the wall, a bitter, mocking smile on my face. My husband was sleeping with my therapist down the hall while I was grieving my murdered parents. It was a special kind of hell. One Gustav had designed just for me.

The door opened. Estelle stood there, wrapped in one of Gustav's silk robes, a smug, satisfied look on her face.

"Can't sleep?" she asked, her voice laced with mockery.

"How can you do this?" I whispered. "How can you live with yourself?"

She laughed. "Oh, Janey. You're so naive. You think this is about love? Or healing? This is about power. And right now, I have all of it."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you know, he told me all your secrets? Every insecurity. Every fear. I was the one who suggested he isolate you from your friends. I was the one who told him your parents were the biggest threat to his control over you. The live-stream? That was my idea."

The confession hit me, not with a shock of surprise, but with the dull thud of confirmation. I had known, somewhere deep down, that she was the architect of my ruin.

Something in me snapped. The drugs, the grief, the betrayal-it all coalesced into a single point of white-hot rage.

I lunged at her, my hands closing around her throat. I wanted to squeeze the life out of her, to wipe that smug smile off her face forever.

She screamed, a high, theatrical shriek. She clawed at my hands, but I held on, my vision tunneling until all I could see was her terrified face.

Then, she did something I didn't expect. She stopped fighting me. She went limp for a second, then slammed the back of her own head against the doorframe. Hard. A dark line of blood immediately started to trickle from her hairline.

"Gustav!" she shrieked, her voice filled with manufactured terror. "Help me! She's trying to kill me!"

Gustav burst out of the room, naked, his face a mask of fury. He saw me with my hands on Estelle's throat. He saw the blood running down her face. He didn't hesitate.

He ripped me off of her and threw me to the floor. My head hit the marble with a sickening crack.

"What the hell are you doing?" he roared, standing over me.

"She's lying," I gasped, my head spinning. "Check the cameras, Gustav. Check the goddamn cameras. She did it to herself."

Estelle was sobbing, clinging to him. "She went crazy, Gustav. She just attacked me. I was so scared."

"Please," I begged, looking up at him, the man I once thought I knew. "Just look at the footage. Please."

He looked from my desperate face to Estelle's bleeding, tear-streaked one. And he made his choice.

"You're a monster, Janey," he said, his voice filled with disgust. "A violent, unstable monster."

He turned to his guards, who had appeared in the hallway. "Take her to the basement. I'll deal with her in the morning."

They dragged me away, my pleas echoing in the hallway. I kept my eyes on him, hoping for a flicker of doubt, a sign of the man I used to love. There was nothing. Just cold, hard certainty.

As they hauled me down the stairs, a sharp, cramping pain shot through my abdomen. It was violent and sudden. I gasped, doubling over.

Something warm and wet soaked through my silk pajamas.

I looked down. Blood. So much blood.

The pill I had taken. The one from Amit. It wasn't for suicide. It was for this.

He had warned me. Gustav will never let you leave him, Janey. But he might let you leave if you can no longer give him what he wants most.

An heir.

The pain was immense, a tearing, gut-wrenching agony. I was losing the baby I never even knew I had. Another life Gustav had destroyed.

I collapsed on the cold basement floor, the darkness swallowing me whole.