Chapter 5

The memorial fundraiser was held at a lavish downtown hotel. Garrison insisted I wear a simple black dress, something appropriately somber. It was one of my old dresses, one he used to love. Now, it felt like a costume for a role I was about to shed forever.

He and Keyla, however, were dressed to the nines. He was in a sharp tuxedo, and she wore a stunning, blood-red gown that seemed to mock the very idea of mourning.

"Try to look a little less miserable, Janette," Garrison hissed as we walked in. "You're bringing the mood down."

I ignored him, my eyes scanning the opulent ballroom. The city's elite were all here, sipping champagne and making deals under the guise of charity.

Keyla was in her element, flitting from group to group, accepting condolences for the "tragic loss of her dear friend's mother." People fawned over her, praising her strength and generosity for hosting the event.

"It's just so wonderful what you're doing for Garrison's family," a woman dripping in diamonds gushed. "He's lucky to have you."

"He's the strong one," Keyla said, placing a delicate hand on Garrison's arm. "He's been my rock through this whole ordeal."

I overheard a man talking about a business deal Garrison had recently closed. "He sold off his entire tech portfolio. Took a huge loss. Word is, he did it to cover a financial shortfall for the Dixon corporation. That's devotion."

Keyla looked up at Garrison, her eyes wide with feigned adoration. "You did that for me?"

It was all a performance, and I was the silent, grim-faced prop in the background. Someone made a joke about my plain dress, comparing it to Keyla's finery. I felt the sting of humiliation but kept my face a blank mask. I was an observer now, cataloging every slight, every lie.

The main event was a charity auction. Garrison, eager to impress Keyla, bid extravagantly on jewelry and art, all of which he gifted to her on the spot. She squealed with delight, kissing him for the cameras.

Then, the final item came up. A rare, antique sapphire necklace. Keyla gasped.

"Oh, Garrison, it's exquisite," she breathed. "It's the one I've always wanted."

Garrison raised his paddle. But another bidder across the room kept pace with him. The price climbed higher and higher. Finally, Garrison was outbid.

Keyla's face fell, her lower lip trembling in a pout. The winner was an old, lecherous tycoon named Mr. Sterling.

Garrison immediately excused himself and made a beeline for Sterling's table. I watched from a distance, my curiosity piqued. I drifted closer, hiding behind a large floral arrangement.

"Sterling," Garrison said, his voice low. "Name your price for the necklace."

Sterling smiled a slow, predatory smile. "It's not for sale, Gardner. But... I might be convinced to trade."

His eyes slid past Garrison, landing directly on me.

"I've always admired your wife," Sterling said, his gaze slimy and possessive. "A classic beauty. Such a shame you keep her hidden away. Spend one night with her... and the necklace is yours."

My stomach churned. I waited for Garrison to lash out, to defend my honor. I waited for him to put Sterling in his place.

But he didn't. He just stood there. Silent. Considering it.

He was actually considering trading me for a piece of jewelry for his mistress.

That was it. The final, microscopic piece of my heart that might have held some lingering attachment to him shattered into dust.

I felt my body start to tremble uncontrollably. I had to get out of there. I turned and walked quickly, blindly, toward the exit.

Garrison caught up to me in the hallway. "Janette, wait."

"Don't touch me," I spat, yanking my arm away.

"Janette, listen to me," he said, his voice urgent and low. "Just this one last thing. Do this for me, for us. Sterling is an old man. It's just one night. And then we'll be free. I'll get you anything you want. We'll go on that trip I promised."

"You are disgusting," I whispered, the words filled with a loathing so pure it was almost a physical force. "You are the most vile, pathetic excuse for a man I have ever met."

His face hardened. "It's a good deal, Janette."

I laughed, a wild, unhinged sound that echoed in the empty hall. I saw a waiter passing with a tray of drinks. In a moment of pure, self-destructive despair, I grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it in one gulp.

The effect was immediate. My head swam. The hallway tilted, the lights blurring into long streaks. My legs felt like rubber.

I stumbled, and Garrison caught me. "What's wrong with you?"

I looked up at him, my vision tunneling. "The drink..." I slurred. "Something's... wrong."

He held me, his expression unreadable. I realized with a sickening lurch that he had planned this. He knew I would be emotional. He knew I might do something impulsive. He or Keyla had probably arranged for the drugged drinks to be on that tray.

He pulled me close, his lips brushing against my ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice a venomous caress. "Just get through this. I promise, it's the last time."

The last time he would sell me. The last time he would sacrifice me for her.

The darkness closed in, and the last thing I felt was him guiding my limp body toward a private elevator.