Love's Ashes, A Bitter Price

The world saw my husband, Kaden, as a tragic hero, honor-bound to me while his heart belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Cali. I believed it too, willing to endure the pain for his sake.

On our anniversary, he came home with her. He didn't just ignore the special dinner I'd made; he grabbed the tablecloth and sent our entire anniversary meal crashing to the floor in a deafening shatter of crystal and porcelain.

He pinned me against the wall, his kiss brutal, whispering that hurting me was how he tortured her.

This became our life. He gave her a replica of my late mother's most precious gift. On the anniversary of our first baby's death, he left me grieving to comfort Cali because her cat had died. When he returned, he threw the tiny booties I had knitted for our son into the fire.

I lost another pregnancy-twins this time. In the hospital, he abandoned me to go play tennis with her because she was bored.

The final straw was when Cali scattered our twins' ashes to the wind. He saw my pain, heard my screams, and defended her.

"Unintentional harm is not a crime, Joyce," he said.

In that moment, the woman he knew as Joyce died. I took the pills that would erase her forever, allowing me-Iris-to take control.

Chapter 1

The world believed Kaden Franklin, the formidable CEO of Franklin Corp, was a man caught in a tragic romance.

Gossip columns and society magazines painted a vivid picture: a man honor-bound to his gentle, unassuming wife, Joyce, while his heart truly belonged to his childhood sweetheart, the fiery and proud Cali Craig. They called it a story of duty versus desire.

They said Kaden was a gentleman, protecting his fragile wife from the harsh realities of his world while publicly pursuing Cali in a grand, painful display of what could have been.

I, Joyce, believed it too.

I believed in the narrative Kaden had so carefully crafted for everyone, including me. I was the quiet, submissive wife he was tied to, and I understood. I had to understand.

His love for Cali was a wound from his youth, one he had to tend to. And if my pain was the price for his eventual peace, I was willing to pay it. I loved him that much.

Today was our anniversary. I had carefully prepared his favorite meal, the scent of roast beef filling our sterile, modern mansion. The table was set with the crystal we only used for special occasions.

I waited.

The clock on the wall ticked past seven, then eight, then nine. My hope dwindled with each passing hour, the food growing cold on the table.

Finally, the front door opened.

Kaden walked in, his expensive suit immaculate, his face a mask of cold indifference. He didn't even glance at the dining table. He walked straight past me, heading for the stairs.

Suddenly, Cali Craig appeared in the doorway behind him, a triumphant smirk on her face. She leaned against the doorframe, her red dress a slash of color in the monochrome hallway.

"Well, that was fun," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "You really know how to show a girl a good time, Kaden."

My heart squeezed. That was our anniversary dinner he had just shared with her.

Kaden stopped on the stairs and turned. He looked from Cali back to me, his eyes finally landing on the meticulously set table. A flicker of something-annoyance, maybe-crossed his features before he smoothed it away.

He descended the stairs, his movements deliberate, menacing. He grabbed the white tablecloth, his knuckles white.

And then he yanked.

Crystal glasses, porcelain plates, and the entire anniversary dinner crashed to the floor in a deafening shatter. Splatters of gravy and wine stained the white marble.

I flinched, a small gasp escaping my lips.

Kaden's face was contorted with a rage that seemed to come from nowhere. It was a terrifying, violent storm.

He stalked toward me, his steps crunching on broken glass. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron.

"Why?" he hissed, his voice a low, trembling snarl that terrified me more than any shout. "Why do you always have to do things like this? Why do you insist on reminding me of things I want to forget?"

I couldn't speak, my throat tight with fear and unshed tears.

Cali watched from the doorway, her arms crossed, her smirk widening. She didn't say a word, just enjoyed the show. Then, with a final, dismissive glance at me, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking smartly on the pavement outside. Her job was done.

Kaden's rage didn't subside. He dragged me closer, his face inches from mine. His other hand came up to cup my jaw, but there was no tenderness in the gesture. It was a punishment.

His kiss was brutal, a violation. It tasted of expensive wine and the bitter ashes of my hope. It was a kiss meant to hurt, to humiliate.

"Do you understand now, Joyce?" he whispered against my bruised lips, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol. "This is what you get for trying. This is how I torture her. By showing her everything she can't have, everything you do."

His words made no sense. Torture her? By hurting me?

The next day, the headlines were filled with pictures of Kaden and Cali at a charity auction. He had bought a ridiculously expensive necklace for her, placing it around her neck himself for all the cameras to see. The caption read: "CEO Kaden Franklin's Undying Devotion."

I sat in the doctor's office, the sterile white walls closing in on me.

I calmly accepted the prescription. Small white pills in a little orange bottle.

"This is an experimental treatment, Mrs. Franklin," the psychiatrist had warned. "It's designed to help manage the dissociative episodes, to integrate...or in your case, to facilitate a permanent transfer of executive control."

"I understand," I had said, my voice quiet.

The goal wasn't integration. I knew that. The goal was for "Joyce" to disappear forever. So Iris could live. It was my only way out.

Kaden came home that night, not with an apology, but with a box. Inside was a custom-made music box, a replica of the one my late mother had given me. The one he knew I cherished above all else.

"Cali's birthday is next week," he said, not looking at me. "She always liked your mother's music box. I had a copy made for her."

He was sacrificing the memory of my mother for Cali. He was taking my most precious thing and giving a version of it to her.

The next day, he threw away the hand-knitted scarf I'd spent a month making for him. He said the color didn't suit him. I later saw a picture of Cali wearing a cashmere scarf of the exact same color, a gift from an "anonymous admirer."

On the anniversary of our first child's death-a baby we lost before he was born-I woke up with a familiar, gnawing pain in my abdomen. A stress-induced cramp that always came back on this day.

Kaden wasn't there. He had left early. A text message pinged on my phone.

"Cali's upset. Her cat died. Taking her to the coast to cheer her up. Don't wait up."

That night, he came home late, smelling of salt and another woman's perfume. He found me curled up on the floor of the nursery we never got to use, clutching a small, framed sonogram picture.

He saw my pain, and his face hardened. Cali had called him, complaining that the trip wasn't enough, that she was still sad.

He walked over to the small white crib, where I had placed a tiny pair of hand-knitted booties. He picked them up, his expression unreadable.

Then, he walked to the fireplace, and without a word, tossed them into the flames.

I screamed, a raw, broken sound.

I woke up from the pain of it all, alone in our cold bed. The space beside me was empty.

Another text. "Sorry about last night. Cali was having a hard time. I'll make it up to you."

The hypocrisy was a physical blow.

A few hours later, a driver arrived. Kaden had sent him. I was to bring a document to the Franklin Corp building. To Kaden's office.

When I arrived, the door was slightly ajar. I heard Cali's voice, soft and pleading.

"Kaden, my necklace broke. Can you fix it for me?"

I peeked through the crack. Kaden was on one knee before her, his head bent with a reverence he never showed me. He was carefully fixing the clasp of the expensive necklace he had bought her. His touch was so gentle, so full of care.

Cali looked down at him, a smug, satisfied smile on her face. Then, she seemed to get bored.

She pushed the necklace away. "Never mind. I don't want it anymore."

I saw the flicker of frustration in Kaden's eyes, but he masked it instantly.

As I stood there, frozen, a sudden panic seized me. I touched my neck. The locket my mother had given me, the one with a tiny picture of my first baby's sonogram inside, was gone. I must have dropped it.

Ignoring the driver, ignoring everything, I ran out of the building. I had to find it. The rain started to fall, cold and hard.

I retraced my steps, my body aching, my head pounding. I had to find it.

Back at the office building entrance, I saw them. Kaden was holding a large umbrella over Cali's head as she complained about the rain ruining her shoes.

"It's just water, Cali," he said, his voice inexplicably tender.

The scene was so painfully familiar. It reminded me of the day I lost our first child. It had been raining just like this. Kaden had held me, sheltering me from the storm, whispering that everything would be okay.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. It hurt too much.

I had to get away. I turned to leave, but Cali saw me.

Her face twisted in a sneer. "What are you doing here, Joyce? Stalking your own husband?"

She strode toward me, her heels clicking on the wet pavement. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "You're pathetic."

In her other hand, she was holding something. My locket.

She must have picked it up. She held it up, dangling it in front of my face.

"Looking for this?" she taunted. "It's so cheap. Is this all he gives you?"

Before I could answer, she opened her hand. The locket fell, landing in a deep, muddy puddle on the street. A passing car drove right over it with a sickening crunch.

The world went silent. The rain, the city noise, everything faded away. All I could see was the crushed piece of silver in the mud.

The last piece of my baby. The last piece of my mother. Destroyed.

Something inside me snapped.

I didn't think. I lunged forward, pushing Cali away from me with all my strength. She stumbled back, falling into the street.

The rain stopped as abruptly as it had started. The sun broke through the clouds, casting a strange, eerie light on the scene.

Cali lay on the ground, not crying, but...shaking. A strange, guttural sound came from her throat. She was having some kind of seizure.

Kaden rushed to her side, gathering her into his arms. "Cali! What's wrong? What did you do to her?" he roared at me, his eyes blazing with hatred.

He cradled her, whispering soothing words, completely ignoring me.

I woke up in the hospital. Kaden was sitting by my bed, his face a mask of concern.

"Joyce, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Cali has a rare condition. Stress can trigger seizures. I shouldn't have brought her. It's my fault. I promise, it won't happen again."

I looked at him, at the man I had loved, and for the first time, I felt nothing. Just a vast, cold emptiness.

I remembered the crushed locket. I remembered the way he looked at me.

He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away.

He followed my gaze to the bedside table. On it was a small, velvet box. He opened it. Inside was a new locket, diamond-encrusted and expensive.

"I got you a new one," he said, as if that could fix anything. "It's better, isn't it?"

I stared at the glittering piece of jewelry. He still didn't understand. He never would.

He thought he could replace my heart with a diamond.

He leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "Don't worry, Joyce. I'm just using Cali to get back at her family for what they did to mine. Once I'm done, I'll get rid of her. It's always been you."

His lies were a tired old song, and I was finally deaf to the melody.

The ferry bumped against the pier on the private island. I forced myself to stand, my legs unsteady, the sea-sickness churning in my stomach.

I walked to the small island shop and bought a bouquet of white lilies and some incense. Today was the first anniversary of my second child's death. Another baby I never got to hold.

Kaden's sleek black car was already waiting.

As I reached for the passenger door, a hand shot out and blocked me. It was Cali. She had already claimed the front seat.

She looked at me, her face calm, her voice even. "I'm not feeling well. The back seat is too bumpy."

She said it as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. As if she wasn't deliberately stealing my place, on this day of all days.

"It's just for the ride up the hill," she added, a faint, mocking smile playing on her lips. "I wouldn't want to get in the way of Kaden comforting you." Her tone implied he wouldn't want to anyway.

I looked at Kaden, who was behind the wheel, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. I searched for any sign of support, any hint that he would defend me.

He just shrugged, a silent signal of his surrender to her whims. "Just get in the back, Joyce."

My heart, already a bruised and tender thing, felt a fresh wave of pain. It was a dull, familiar ache now. I was nothing. My grief was nothing.

I climbed into the back seat without a word.

The car started up the winding, muddy road to the small, private cemetery Kaden's family owned. Through the rearview mirror, I watched him adjust the temperature for Cali, watched him hand her a bottle of water. I turned my head and stared out the window, a silent numbness settling over me.

I wouldn't interfere anymore. I wouldn't fight for my space. There was no space left for me to fight for.

We arrived at the top of the hill. As I got out, holding the lilies, Cali suddenly stepped in front of me.

"Let me help you with that," she said, reaching for the bouquet.

"No, thank you," I said, my voice flat. "I can manage."

She ignored me, her grip tightening on the flowers. She tried to pull them from my hands. "Don't be so stubborn. I'm just trying to be nice."

"I said no!"

The flowers were for my child. A child she had a hand in killing. I wouldn't let her touch them.

"You're making a scene," she hissed, her eyes flashing. "You always have to be so difficult. Kaden, tell her!"

She was the one starting this, but she twisted it to make me the villain.

The path was slick with recent rain. As she pulled, her fashionable but impractical heels slipped on the wet stone.

"Be careful!" I warned, instinctively reaching out to steady her.

She misinterpreted my movement, thinking I was trying to push her. "Get away from me!" she shrieked.

Her own momentum, combined with her slippery shoes, sent her tumbling backward.

She let go of the lilies to break her fall.

Kaden was out of the car in an instant. He didn't come to me. He ran straight to her.

He scooped her up, his face a mask of frantic concern. "Cali, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Then he rounded on me, his voice laced with venom. "Joyce, what is wrong with you? Why would you push her?"

Cali, nestled in his arms, began to cry. "I just wanted to help her carry the flowers. She... she said I wasn't worthy."

She was a masterful actress.

She pushed away from Kaden's chest. "Let me go. I'm fine." Her voice was a perfect blend of bravery and vulnerability.

Kaden held her tighter, stroking her hair. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here."

He turned his furious gaze back to me. "She was just trying to help, and you act like she committed some terrible crime. It's just a bunch of flowers, Joyce! Why are you so petty?"

He thought it was about the flowers. He didn't see that it was about my child, my grief, my last shred of dignity.

"Apologize to her," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I stared at him, disbelief warring with a tidal wave of rage. "I have nothing to apologize for."

His jaw tightened. "Apologize, or I swear, I will leave you here. You can walk back home. And you will never see this place again. I'll have his grave moved."

He was threatening me with my dead child.

The threat hung in the air, cold and sharp. He would take my son away from me, even in death.

My body trembled. I felt the fight drain out of me, replaced by a hollow defeat.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words tasting like poison in my mouth. I directed them at the muddy ground, unable to look at Cali's triumphant face.

She sniffed, a delicate, wounded sound. "It's fine. I forgive you." She didn't even look at me.

Kaden shot me one last glare of disgust before turning his full attention back to her, leading her gently back to the car as if she were made of glass.

I was left alone on the muddy path.

A message buzzed on my phone a few minutes later. It was from Kaden.

"Cali's ankle is swelling. Taking her to the doctor. The driver will be back for you in an hour."

I sank to my knees, the tears I had been holding back finally falling, mixing with the rain that had started again. I cried for my lost child, for the love that was now a weapon used against me, for the woman I used to be.

I took out the small orange bottle from my pocket. The pills looked so small, so harmless. I swallowed one dry. It was a promise to myself. A promise of an end.

I gathered the scattered, mud-stained lilies, wiping each petal with the hem of my coat. They were all I had left of this day. They were my love, my sorrow, my apology to the child I couldn't protect.

Kaden didn't come home that night. Or the next.

On the third day, I saw it. A friend had tagged me in a post. It was a live video from a lavish party on a yacht.

Kaden was there, laughing, a glass of champagne in his hand. Cali was beside him, sparkling in a sequined dress. She leaned into the microphone of a giddy social media influencer.

"Kaden, everyone wants to know," the influencer gushed. "When are you going to make an honest woman out of Cali?"

Cali giggled, turning to Kaden with wide, expectant eyes. "Yes, Kaden. When?"

Someone in the crowd yelled, "He's already married!"

Cali pouted, a perfect performance of hurt feelings. "But he doesn't love her," she said, just loud enough for the camera to pick up. "Kaden, you have to choose."

Kaden looked into the camera, his handsome face serious. He didn't hesitate.

"Cali," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "It's always been you."

The crowd erupted in cheers. Cali threw her arms around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder, but I could see the victorious smirk she flashed at the camera.

It was a performance for my benefit. A public execution of my marriage.

And in that moment, I finally understood. It wasn't about revenge on her family. It wasn't a game. He loved her. All the pain, all the humiliation he put me through... it was real.

I closed the laptop. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. The wind howled, rattling the windows. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my belly, doubling me over.

It was worse than the usual cramps. It was a ferocious, tearing agony.

I stumbled to the bathroom, a cold dread washing over me. I saw the blood. So much blood.

I woke up on the cold tile floor. The pain was a dull, throbbing echo. I felt... empty. A part of me had been scooped out, leaving a hollow void.

Kaden was there when I opened my eyes again. Not in person, of course. He was kneeling beside my hospital bed, his face a mask of practiced concern.

"The doctor said you lost the baby," he said, his voice soft. "It was... very early. A chemical pregnancy. It happens."

He was dismissing it. Dismissing another life. Another child.

I remembered a time, long ago, when we first started trying. He had been so excited. He would talk for hours about names, about what our child would look like. He would hold me and whisper promises of a future filled with laughter and tiny feet.

That man was gone. The man who sat before me now was a stranger.

A memory surfaced, sharp and cruel. The yacht. His public declaration.

"It's always been you," he had said to her.

The pain in my heart was so immense, it felt like a physical death. I had lost everything. My babies. My husband. Myself.

The tears came then, hot and unstoppable. They were tears of grief, of rage, of a love so completely and utterly destroyed.

Suddenly, the hospital room door burst open.

Cali stood there, her arms crossed, her expression impatient. She was dressed in a pristine white tennis outfit.

"Kaden, are you coming?" Her voice was sharp, annoyed. "You promised you'd play a match with me today."

Kaden immediately dropped my hand. He stood up, his attention shifting entirely to her.

He walked toward her, a playful smile on his face. "Jealous that I'm spending time with my wife?"

Cali scoffed. "As if. You're just wasting time."

"Maybe I like wasting time with her," he teased, deliberately trying to provoke Cali. "Maybe I'll stay here all day."

It was their sick, twisted game, and my hospital bed was their playground. My grief was their entertainment.