Chapter 4

Pregnant. The word echoed in the ringing silence of my ears.

As I stood there, the sting on my cheek a dull throb, a wave of memories washed over me. Not just the bad ones, but the ones that had made the betrayal so much worse. The good ones.

I remembered a time when Mark's touch was gentle. He used to trace the line of my jaw, just as he had moments ago, but his eyes would be filled with what I thought was love. He would whisper promises of a future, of a family.

"One day, Sarah," he'd said once, as we lay in bed watching the sunrise, "we'll have a couple of kids running around this house. A boy with your eyes and a girl with my smile."

I had believed him. I had loved him with an intensity that consumed me. I built my entire world around him, his happiness my only goal. I managed his finances, organized his social life, and stood by him when his business ventures faltered. I was his rock, his partner. Or so I thought.

The truth, I discovered later, was a far uglier thing. The gentleness was a tool. The promises were a means to an end.

I found his journal by accident, tucked away in an old box of his college things. I wasn't looking for anything, just organizing the study. Curiosity got the better of me. The first few pages were filled with boring notes about business, but then I saw a name. Chloe.

His writing about her was different. It wasn't the calm, possessive affection he showed me. It was desperate, passionate. He wrote about her like she was the sun and he was just a planet caught in her orbit.

She looked at me today. For a full five seconds. I think my heart stopped. If only her father hadn't forced her to marry that idiot, she would be mine. She should have always been mine.

It was dated a week after he proposed to me.

I read on, my hands shaking, my stomach churning. I was a placeholder. A convenient, capable, and well-off stand-in while he waited for his true love to become available. My family's money had funded his lifestyle, my devotion had soothed his ego. His entire relationship with me was a lie, a strategic move to maintain his status while he pined for another woman.

For a while, I tried to pretend I hadn't seen it. I tried to love him harder, to be more perfect, to somehow win a game I didn't even know I was playing. I convinced myself he would learn to love me for real.

Then, Chloe's husband died in a "boating accident," and her wealthy family suddenly went bankrupt in a series of bad investments. And just like that, the fragile bubble of my life burst.

Mark brought her to our home.

"Chloe has nowhere else to go," he'd announced, not asked. "She'll be staying with us for a while."

I looked at the woman standing in my doorway, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, looking every bit the tragic heroine. And I said no. It was the first time I had ever truly defied him.

"She can't stay here, Mark. This is our home."

The argument that followed was the worst of our lives. It ended with him screaming, his face purple with rage.

"If you can't accept her, then you have no place here!"

The next day, two large, rough-looking men showed up at the house. I thought they were there to evict me. The truth was so much worse. They were the men Mark owed money to. A lot of money.

He stood by and watched as they grabbed me.

"Mark, what's happening?" I screamed, struggling against their iron grips.

"A lesson in obedience, Sarah," he said, his voice chillingly calm. He walked over to me, adjusting the collar on my shirt as the men held me still. "I told you Chloe was delicate. She needs a quiet, stress-free environment. Your constant negativity isn't good for her."

He was using his gambling debts as an excuse, a convenient way to get rid of me so he could have Chloe all to himself.

"You're tougher," he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, the same words he had used before. "You can handle this. Three days. I'll get the money and come for you. Just be a good girl."

Then he nodded to the men.

They dragged me out of my home, my screams echoing in the pristine foyer. The last thing I saw was Mark, standing in the doorway with Chloe at his side, her expression not one of shock or pity, but of quiet, cold triumph.

He wasn't sending me away to pay a debt. He was throwing me to the wolves as a punishment for standing in his way.

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