Marian insisted on coming along on this business trip with me and Brent.

I'm a light sleeper. There was no way I could handle the budget hostel the company booked.

So I paid for my own hotel room—a decent one, not cheap.

The moment she saw it, Marian wouldn't let it go. Begged and badgered me to swap rooms with her.

I turned her down politely.

“Sorry, I can't sleep in a hostel, which is the whole reason I booked this room. You're welcome to ask someone else to switch with you.”

The next morning, I woke up to Brent's dark expression.

“Marian slept by the bridge last night. Alone. A few drifters almost got to her.”

I stared at him. “She had a hostel bed. Even if the soundproofing's bad, she could've spent a little money and gotten another room.”

Brent nodded and said nothing more.

That evening at the client dinner, I was pushed drink after drink until I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes the next day, I was locked inside a hostel room with no way out.

Several men closed in around me.

I called out to Brent for help. He stood at the door and sneered.

“Didn't you say hotel rooms are so easy to book? I set up the same arrangement Marian had that night. Now sit tight and stay the whole night.”

The drifters crept closer, leering at me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my phone. ：“Hello, 911? I'm being held against my will at 303 Chandler Street Hostel. There are multiple men here trying to assault me.”

……

The men burst out laughing.

“Ha! Calling the cops? Go ahead—let's see them come get us!”

“Maybe check whether your call actually went through first. There's been a signal jammer in this room the whole time.”

“Brent Sanchez thought of everything. He knew you'd try to call for help.”

“That phone of yours is a useless brick right now. You can scream yourself hoarse and nobody's coming to save you!”

I froze, then looked down at the screen. The call had never connected.

All the alcohol they'd forced on me the night before still pounded through my skull, my temples throbbing, the room tilting at the edges.

“Brent Sanchez!”

I bit down hard on my lip and looked toward the door.

“I know you're there. Come out!”

“I'm here.”

The door cracked open. Brent stood in the gap, backlit.

I couldn't make out his expression, but I could see the curl of contempt at the corner of his mouth.

“What did you just say? Held against your will? Assault?”

“Georgina Fox, if I remember correctly, you studied law in college.”

“So tell me. Which part of what's happening in this room qualifies as ‘unlawful’?”

The dim light inside blurred the line between day and night.

“Why did you bring me here?”

I stared at him. “I'm your wife. Even if you feel sorry for Marian, you don't have to do this to me.”

I thought back to the dinner table the night before.

Brent hadn't shielded me from the toasts the way he usually did. Instead, he let the clients pour drink after drink down my throat.

Even the glasses meant for Marian.

A few words from him, and those ended up in my stomach too.

Brent scoffed, walked over, and kicked the mattress on the floor.

“What exactly am I doing to you?”

“This is a hostel. It's a normal business. Open to the public.”

“I locked the door, sure. But I'm your husband. What goes on between a husband and wife—you think the cops are going to get involved?”

He walked over to the drifters and clapped one of them on the shoulder.

“These guys? They're guests staying here.”

“They came back to their own room. What evidence do you have that anyone was trying to assault you?”

The drifters laughed, baring yellow teeth.

“Please. Who'd want to harass you? With a face like that.”

“We're more worried you'll come after us!”

I gripped my phone tighter, nausea rolling up from my stomach in waves.

Brent turned to face me. He was smiling, but his eyes held nothing but cold.

“So what exactly are you going to tell the police? That I made you rough it for a night? Or that you're imagining things?”

I had no evidence.

The drifters closed in slowly. They didn't touch me. They just stood there.

But they were close enough that my back was already flat against the wall.

“Stay away from me.”

“We're not going anywhere,” the bald one said, mouth splitting into a grin. “Room's only so big. Where would we go?”

A skinny one crouched by my feet, looked up at me, and made a show of sniffing the air.

“You smell real nice, sweetheart. What perfume is that?”

I shifted a step sideways. He followed.

“Don't run off. We're not gonna do anything. Just talking.”

“Your husband's right outside the door. What could we possibly do?”

The bald one flashed his teeth again, eyes sliding over me with open malice.

“You know what your husband said to us out there?”

“He said——”

The skinny one dropped his voice, mimicking Brent's tone. “‘She needs to be taught a lesson. Don't hold back. Make sure she remembers it.’”

“He also said,” the bald one chimed in, “that you're too strong-headed out there, never leave him any face. And yesterday you went and bullied his poor fragile little secretary. Way too much.”

“That's why he hired us,”

the scarred one said with a grin. “To set his wife straight.”

I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron. I didn't make a sound.

I didn't know if they were making it up.

Or if every word was true.

But they seemed to find my silence entertaining, watching me now with real interest.

“Your husband's pretty generous, though,”

the skinny one said. “Paying us to hang around here a full day and night. Wasn't cheap.”

The bald one played along. “How much did he give you?”

The skinny one grinned and held up two fingers.

“Twenty thousand?”

“Each.”

The bald one let out a low whistle. “We hit the jackpot.”

Sixty thousand. Three strange men locked in a room with his wife for a day and a night.

Because I'd spent my own money on a hotel room. A thousand a night. And wouldn't hand it over to his precious secretary.

So he spent all that just to trap me here. Just for revenge.

I finished the math in my head, and then I laughed.

Brent Sanchez, how generous of you.

I stared at him in the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

Watching like it was a show that had nothing to do with him.

“Brent,”

I said. “You really want to go through with this?”

He didn't even look up. His phone had buzzed twice, and he was already hunched over it, thumbs flying.

I didn't have to guess who it was.

Marian.

Every text I ever sent him got back either a 「1」 or dead silence. If something was actually urgent, maybe he'd reply two hours later.

But Marian, his precious little secretary, got instant replies. Every single time.

Even on a business trip meant for just the two of us, he'd let Marian tag along without a second thought.

The thought made me laugh at myself.

“Marian didn't want to stay at the hostel last night. She ran off and slept on the street. That's her own stupidity.”

“If you're holding a grudge because I refused to switch rooms with her,”

“shouldn't you be holding an even bigger one against yourself?”

“We followed you on a business trip, and you were too cheap to spring for a real hotel. You stuck us in a hostel.”

“Brent, why don't you lock yourself in there too? See how it feels firsthand.”

Brent's patience snapped. He lifted his head and gave me a single cold look.

“That mouth of yours never stops. You could spin anything to suit yourself.”

“You look down on Marian for staying at a hostel, but where do you get off booking a thousand-dollar-a-night hotel? That's Sanchez family money you're burning through.”

I was so angry I laughed.

How did Brent Sanchez have the nerve to say something like that?

“Brent, since the day we got married, I haven't spent a single cent of yours. If you don't believe me, go check the household accounts yourself……”

“I don't need to check.”

Brent cut me off with a cold laugh.

“Georgina, that mouth of yours could twist anything.”

“Quit playing the victim out here. No matter what, today you're going to pay for what you did.”

I honestly couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong.

“All this because I didn't switch rooms for your little secretary last night?”

“Brent, did you get kicked in the head? If you're so considerate, why didn't you give her yours?”

“I told you I have trouble sleeping. I can't sleep in a hostel, so I paid out of my own pocket for a hotel room.”

“Is that a problem?”

Brent kept sneering at me.

“Oh, you're too delicate for a hostel? Everyone else managed just fine. It's company policy.”

“What makes you the exception?”

He frowned, eyes cold. “Georgina, when you act like this, people say I'm spoiling you. Using my position to play favorites.”

“What I did was to avoid that exact talk.”

“Besides, everyone already sees you as the future Mrs. Sanchez. If word gets out that you bully a junior secretary, that's bad for the company and bad for both of us.”

I drew a deep breath.

“Brent, let me out. Now.”

“Otherwise, you will regret this……”

Brent scoffed, looking me up and down with open contempt.

“Make me regret it? Who do you think you are?”

“Georgina, you rode my connections to climb your way up in this company. Now you actually think you're some untouchable career woman?”

“Without me, you're nothing.”

Every word landed like a needle straight into my chest.

Turns out when someone renders you completely speechless, you really do laugh out loud.

“Brent, did you feed your conscience to the dogs before you said that?”

“I spent three years in the Legal Department. Three years, from associate all the way to Chief Legal Officer.”

“Every case I handled, every contract, every dispute is on file. What exactly did you do for me?”

“Did you ever put in a word? Pull a string? Or even once, when I was working until dawn, come pick me up?”

That stopped him. For a second, Brent had nothing to say.

Every time I got off work late, he was busy elsewhere. Either entertaining clients, or off with his little secretary, Marian Cox.

She was always running a fever, or her cat was in heat, or her pipes had burst.

There was always some reason she needed to bother Brent.

And he never once turned her down.

It was always just a small thing, he figured. Easy enough to help.

All these years, I'd told myself to pick my battles. I never really took it to heart.

But this time was different.

To avenge some petty grudge for Marian, Brent had locked me inside that hostel. He'd crossed a line I would never forgive.

“Georgina, don't you dare change the subject!”