Chapter 5

I woke up in a private hospital room. The scent of antiseptic was sharp in my nostrils.

Catalina was sitting by my bed, her eyes red-rimmed, her face etched with guilt. She looked like the perfect, worried wife.

"Eleazar," she whispered, her voice cracking. She took my hand-my good one-and kissed my knuckles. "I am so, so sorry. It all happened so fast. I just reacted."

I stared at the ceiling, feeling nothing. Her touch was repulsive. Her apology was an insult.

"What happened to the waiter?" I asked, my voice a dead monotone.

Her expression flickered for a barest second. "The waiter? Oh. I had him fired, of course. Banned from every establishment I own. He' ll never work in this city again."

She said it with such casual cruelty, as if she were talking about throwing out the trash.

I looked at her and a slow, painful smile spread across my face. Fired him? Banned him? She was punishing her own husband for a mess he created, just to keep up the charade for me. The absurdity of it was almost comical.

My heart, which I thought had been shattered into a million pieces, felt another crack run through it.

Seeing me smile, she smiled too, relieved. "You' re not mad at me? Oh, thank God. I was so scared."

For the next few days, she played the part of the devoted caregiver. She fed me broth with a silver spoon. She gently cleaned my wounds. She read to me from my favorite books. The nurses all cooed about what a wonderful, loving wife she was, how lucky I was to have her. I was living in a play, and I was the only one who knew the truth.

One afternoon, her special ringtone chirped. She hesitated, glancing at me.

"It' s work," she said, a little too quickly. "I have to take it. I' ll be right back."

She stepped out into the hallway. I reached under my pillow and pulled out the ring she' d tried to give me. The one that was meant for Dixon. I pressed the button.

Her voice, hushed and annoyed, came through the speaker. "...I told you not to call me here. What is it?"

"I was scared, Cat," Dixon whined. "My arm hurts a little. The glass grazed me."

He was in the hospital too. Of course he was. Probably in the VIP suite right down the hall.

"Does it need a kiss to make it better?" she asked, her voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and affection.

"Yes," he said, his voice turning needy. "And I want you to peel a grape for me. With your teeth."

Her sigh was audible. "You' re impossible." But there was no real anger in her voice. Just weary indulgence.

I couldn' t listen anymore. I clicked it off, my stomach churning with disgust. She never peeled grapes for me. She always said it was undignified.

A few days later, I was discharged. Catalina was by my side the entire time, holding my arm, whispering sweet nothings.

As we walked into our house, I saw him.

Dixon was standing in the hall with the rest of the staff, dressed in a butler' s uniform, his head bowed.

I stopped dead, my blood running cold. I looked at Catalina, my eyes asking the question I couldn' t bring myself to speak.

She pulled me into a hug, her lips close to my ear. "I know what you' re thinking, my love. But I consulted a therapist. They said the best way for you to overcome your trauma is through exposure therapy. I thought... if you saw him every day, saw him humbled and serving you... it would help you heal."

Her lies were so elaborate, so twisted, they were almost brilliant. She delivered them with such sincerity, her eyes full of fake concern.

"Everything I do, Eleazar," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "It' s because I love you."

I looked over her shoulder at Dixon. He was my tormentor, my wife' s husband, and now he was going to live in my house. My home had become my prison, and she had just handed the keys to the other inmate.

I felt hollowed out, a shell of a man. I didn' t have the energy to fight. Not yet.

"Okay, Catalina," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "If you think it will help."

I would play her game. I would be the broken, compliant husband she wanted me to be. And all the while, I would be planning my escape. The day was coming. Soon. I would be free of them both.