Chapter 3

I took a cab to an urgent care clinic.

The nurse winced when she saw my arm. The burn was bad, a mess of red skin and angry blisters.

"That looks painful," she said, her voice full of sympathy. "Did your husband bring you?"

I managed a weak, bitter smile. "He' s busy."

Just then, I heard voices from the hallway. Kristyn' s voice, sweet and cloying.

"Chandler, what you did was so heroic. You' re my knight in shining armor."

Then she lowered her voice, a seductive whisper. "Why don't you call me your wife? I want to hear you say it."

A pause. Then Chandler' s voice, low and indulging. "Alright, my beautiful wife."

Wife.

The word hit me like a slap. He had never, not once in three years, called me his wife. It was always "Ava." I had thought he was just a private, reserved man. Now I knew the truth.

I wasn't worthy of the title.

I couldn' t breathe. I stumbled out of the clinic, paid the cab driver, and went home.

He was there, waiting for me in the living room, his face a thundercloud.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"The clinic," I said, not looking at him.

He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. He saw the bandages. "God, Ava, it' s that bad?" His tone wasn' t concern. It was accusation.

I pulled my arm away. "Kristyn' s was worse, I' m sure."

He frowned. "Why are you always like this? Can' t you be more understanding? I have a history with her. You need to be the bigger person."

My heart felt like it was being shredded. I was the one with a blistering burn. I was the one he abandoned. And I was supposed to be the bigger person?

Tears streamed down my face, silent and hot. He didn't care about me. He only cared about her.

I was just the maid. The live-in nurse. The organ donor.

"You' re going to be free soon, Chandler," I said, my voice flat.

"What was that?" He was distracted, already pulling out his phone.

He didn't hear me. He never really heard me.

"I' ll take you to the beach tomorrow," he said, not looking up from his screen. "Just the two of us. We' ll sort this out."

The next morning, Kristyn was in the car, wearing a tiny bikini that left little to the imagination.

"I thought I' d come along and teach Ava how to swim," she said with a bright, fake smile, snuggling up to Chandler.

"Kristyn was worried you' d be bored," Chandler explained, avoiding my eyes.

The lie was so transparent it was almost funny. This wasn' t for me. This was their date.

I couldn' t swim. He knew that. So I sat on the sand, a fully-clothed ghost at their beach party, and watched them. They splashed and laughed in the waves, his hands lingering on her waist. He playfully flicked water at her, and she squealed. They looked like a perfect couple.

His phone rang. A business call. He walked down the beach for better reception.

Kristyn waded out of the water and walked over to me, dripping.

"Time for your lesson," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes.

Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the water.

"I don' t want to," I said, trying to pull away.

She was stronger than she looked. She yanked me into the shallows, then, with a sudden, vicious movement, she shoved my head under the water.

Panic seized me. Saltwater flooded my nose and mouth. I thrashed, but she held me down.

"You' re going to learn to swim today, Ava," her voice was a distorted, monstrous sound above the water. "I' m going to make sure you get enough of it."

My lungs burned. Black spots danced in my vision. I was dying.

She pulled my head up. I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering.

She held my hair, forcing me to look at her. "Do you really think he' ll care if you die right here? He won' t even notice."

"No," I choked out, a flicker of defiance still alive in me. He wouldn' t. He couldn' t. After everything I did for him.

She smiled, a truly evil sight. "We'll see."