Chapter 4

Bennet came home right on time, as if he' d spent the day in a series of boring meetings instead of in a duplicate mansion with his other wife. He carried shopping bags from every luxury brand imaginable.

"A little something to celebrate our anniversary week," he said, his smile as bright and fake as the diamonds on Gianna' s necklace. His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of command. This was not a suggestion; it was an order.

I said nothing. I let him lead me to the closet, a cavernous room larger than my first apartment. I numbly put on the deep red gown he selected, the silk cold against my skin.

The anniversary dinner was at a five-star hotel he owned, the ballroom glittering with chandeliers and filled with the city' s elite. As we walked in, I noticed something odd. All the female waitstaff were wearing identical cheongsams and white, featureless masks.

"A little theme for the evening," Bennet explained, his hand possessive on the small of my back. "I didn' t want anyone upstaging the most beautiful woman in the room."

His flattery was a well-practiced script. My stomach churned. I had a sickening feeling I knew exactly why the staff was masked. My face must have gone pale, because he leaned in, his voice a concerned whisper. "Are you alright, darling?"

Before I could answer, a chorus of fawning greetings surrounded us. Business partners, socialites, all eager to pay their respects to the great Bennet Crosby.

I was trapped in a sea of smiling faces and empty compliments when a small commotion broke out near the champagne tower. A masked waitress had stumbled, her fall theatrical and clumsy. Her cheongam, conveniently, had ripped along the seam, exposing a scandalous amount of skin.

The room fell silent. Everyone knew Bennet' s temper. They all expected him to explode at the waitress for causing a scene at his event.

He didn' t disappoint. His face hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "You. Come with me. Now."

He turned to me, his expression softening into a mask of concern. "I' m so sorry, my love. I need to go... reprimand her. I' ll be right back."

He grabbed the waitress by the wrist, his grip tight, and practically dragged her toward the elevators.

A morbid curiosity propelled me forward. I followed them, taking a different elevator to the executive floor. The hallway was empty. I crept toward the main conference room, the door slightly ajar.

I peered through the crack.

The 'punishment' was already underway. Gianna was perched on the massive mahogany conference table, her legs wrapped tightly around Bennet' s waist. Her mask was off, her face a picture of tear-stained, pitiful beauty.

"I' m so sorry, Bennet," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I just saw you with her, looking so happy, and my... my illness... it acted up. I couldn' t control myself."

He kissed her, a deep, hungry kiss that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with desire. "It' s okay," he murmured against her lips. "I understand."

"Please," she begged, her hands tangling in his hair. "I need my treatment. I need you to give me a... deep treatment."

The sight was obscene. He was 'punishing' her for my benefit, in the most twisted, deceitful way possible. He was celebrating his anniversary with me by fulfilling his other wife's desires.

I remembered him telling me once, his eyes full of sincerity, "Harper, you' re the only woman I' ll ever touch. I swear it."

Another lie. Everything was a lie.

I backed away from the door, my body shaking. I couldn' t watch anymore. I turned and fled, my heart a cold, dead weight in my chest.

I made it back to the ballroom just as Bennet reappeared, looking perfectly composed. He was holding a small, elegantly wrapped gift.

"For you, my love," he said, handing it to me. It was a folder containing a deed. He had transferred ownership of the entire hotel to my name. Another grand gesture. Another bar on my cage.

Just then, Gianna reappeared downstairs. She had changed into a fresh, unripped cheongam, her face once again hidden behind a blank mask. She moved through the crowd, a tray of drinks in her hand.

As she passed the champagne tower, she stumbled again. This time, it was no small fall. She crashed into the tower with full force.

Crystal glasses shattered. Champagne exploded everywhere. The sound was like a gunshot in the silent ballroom.

Before the first glass even hit the floor, Bennet was moving. He didn' t look at me. He didn' t think about me. He lunged toward Gianna, a desperate, protective instinct on his face.

He shoved me aside to get to her.

The force of the push sent me stumbling backward. My heel caught on the slick floor. I fell, my head cracking against the hard marble with a sickening thud.

My vision swam. The world dissolved into a blur of glittering lights and shadowed faces. I felt a sharp, searing pain as shards of broken glass dug into my arms and legs.

Through the fog of pain, I saw Bennet. He was cradling Gianna in his arms, his face a mask of frantic concern as he checked her for injuries. He didn' t even glance in my direction.

In that moment, everything became clear. He had made his choice. It wasn' t me. It had never been me.

Blood trickled down my temple. The ballroom spun. And through the pain and the haze, a small, broken laugh escaped my lips.