The Unwanted Wife's Last Breath

It was our third anniversary, and I was shivering on the balcony, barefoot in a thin silk robe.

My husband Ethan, who believed I caused his true love Gabrielle to vanish, shoved me out there, making me pay for my supposed sins.

Then, a phone call.

Gabrielle was back.

Suddenly, I went from a neglected wife to the household's lowliest servant, abused by Ethan, Gabrielle, and every staff member.

They said I betrayed her, that I was a vile, jealous creature.

My health deteriorated, coughing blood, fading into a shadow.

They drugged me, paraded me before a hateful crowd, publicly shaming me as the "disgraced sister" while Gabrielle, the "victim," stood radiant.

My own father watched, approving.

How could my life twist into such a nightmare?

How could everyone believe such monstrous lies about me, turning me into a monster in their eyes?

I was already dying, isolated and shattered, when Gabrielle and a bribed maid claimed I' d leaked scandalous stories.

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed the nearest thing-a heavy letter opener-and plunged it into Gabrielle.

I expected more pain, more condemnation, maybe even death.

But what came next would unravel everything, exposing the shocking truth from beyond my grave.

It' s our third anniversary, and the night is freezing.

Ethan shoves me out onto the balcony, the icy stone biting into the soles of my bare feet. I' m wearing nothing but a thin silk robe he bought, not for me, but for the woman he imagines me to be.

He stands in the doorway, a glass of whiskey in his hand, framed by the warm light of the house. He watches me shiver, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Cold, Annabel?"

I wrap my arms around myself, my teeth chattering. I don' t answer. My love for him died long ago, replaced by a hollow ache.

"This is nothing," he says, his voice cutting through the wind. "It' s just a fraction of what Gabrielle must have suffered because of you."

He takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes filled with a familiar, deep-seated hatred. He' s always believed I was the reason my older sister, Gabrielle, disappeared on their wedding day three years ago. That my jealousy drove her away.

So, he married me instead. A substitute. A punishment.

He thinks I' m a monster, so he treats me like one. I look at him, the man I once loved with all my heart, the town' s golden boy. Now, he' s just my tormentor.

"I didn' t do anything to her," I whisper, my voice lost in the wind.

He scoffs. "Save it. Your lies don' t work on me."

I close my eyes, a foolish, desperate hope flickering inside me. Maybe tonight, on our anniversary, he' ll show a shred of mercy. Maybe he' ll let me back inside.

He steps closer, and for a second, I think he will. But he just leans down, his voice a cold whisper in my ear.

"Do you know what she must have felt? Alone, scared, cold... all because you couldn't stand to see her happy." He straightens up, his expression unyielding. "You will stay out here and think about what you did."

Just then, the phone inside the house rings, piercing the quiet tension. He glances back, annoyed by the interruption. He walks over and answers it.

I watch him through the glass, his back rigid. Then I see his shoulders relax, his entire posture changing. A look of pure, unadulterated joy spreads across his face, a look I have never, ever seen directed at me.

He drops the phone and rushes past me without a second glance, leaving the door open to the cold. He doesn't even grab a coat.

"Gabrielle," he breathes, his voice filled with a desperate, ecstatic relief. "She' s back. They found her."

He runs to his car, starts the engine with a roar, and speeds away into the night, leaving me shivering and forgotten on the balcony. I stand there, naked under the silk, as the cold seeps deep into my bones, feeling like I' ve been plunged into an icy abyss.

A few minutes later, one of the housekeepers, Mrs. Gable, appears. She doesn' t look at me. She just places a glass of water and a small white pill on the table just inside the door.

"Mr. Lester' s orders," she says, her voice flat and devoid of pity. It' s the morning-after pill. A routine part of my humiliation.

I stare at the pill, then back out at the empty driveway where his car was. My sister is back. The real lady of the house has returned.

And my nightmare is only just beginning.

The next day, I feel like a ghost in my own home. I stay in my room, the one at the far end of the hall, away from the master suite Ethan and I never shared.

From my window, I see them. Ethan and Gabrielle.

He' s showing her the new greenhouse, a magnificent structure of glass and steel that glistens in the weak winter sun. He had it built last year. It was supposed to be her wedding gift, a promise he made to her years ago. He never gave me so much as a single flower.

He holds her hand, his expression soft and adoring. Gabrielle looks radiant, her blonde hair catching the light. She laughs, a sound that echoes faintly up to my window. They look perfect together, the golden couple reunited.

I feel like an intruder, a rat hiding in the walls, watching a life that was never meant for me.

Later, there' s a soft knock on my door. It' s Gabrielle.

She steps inside, closing the door behind her. She' s wearing a beautiful cashmere sweater, looking warm and healthy. She gives me a look of feigned sympathy.

"Annabel," she says, her voice sweet as honey. "I' m so sorry you had to see that. It must be so difficult for you."

I just stare at her, my heart pounding with a familiar mix of fear and resentment. My father, a man respected by the whole town, always favored her. He let her treat me like dirt my entire life, and I was forced to endure it.

"What do you want, Gabrielle?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

She moves closer, her eyes scanning my plain, worn-out dress. "I just wanted to talk. To clear the air."

She reaches out as if to touch my arm, then pulls back, "accidentally" letting her sleeve ride up. I see them then-faint, silvery scars crisscrossing her wrist. My breath catches in my throat.

She sees my expression and a flicker of triumph appears in her eyes before being replaced by tears.

"Oh, God," she sobs, covering her face. "I didn' t want you to see."

"What happened to you?" I ask, despite myself.

Her head snaps up, her blue eyes filled with accusation. "You know what happened! You told me to meet him, that man. You said he was a friend."

I stare at her, confused. "What man? I don' t know what you' re talking about."

"Don' t lie, Annabel!" she cries, her voice rising. "The man you sent me to on my wedding day! He... he took me. He held me captive for three years. He hurt me."

Tears stream down her perfect face. "If you had just told me you were in love with Ethan, I would have stepped aside. I would have let you have him. You didn' t have to do this to me."

Her words hang in the air, a poisonous lie. Before I can even process it, the door bursts open.

Ethan stands there, his face a mask of pure fury. He heard everything.

"You," he snarls, his eyes locking onto me. He strides across the room and grabs me by the throat, his fingers digging into my skin. "You did this to her. You vile, jealous creature."

He shoves me against the wall, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. Gabrielle rushes to his side, clinging to his arm.

"Ethan, no! Don' t hurt her. It' s not her fault she' s so... twisted."

Her words only fuel his rage. He looks from her tear-streaked face to my terrified one.

"She' s not a guest in this house anymore," he declares, his voice dangerously low. "From now on, she' s a servant. She will work to repay the debt she owes you. She will learn what it means to suffer."