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.