I was kidnapped by my own husband.

The man who used to kiss my paint-stained hands and say I was his muse.

Turns out, he just wanted my corneas. Not for himself… but for his first love.

I woke to the smell of antiseptic and something sharp, metallic. Voices floated through the fog in my mind.

“Boss, you sure you want to use Mrs. McIntosh’s eyes for that woman?”

“Amber gave me a daughter. She paid for it with her sight. She’s getting it back. I take care of what’s mine.” Howard’s voice was calm, and dangerous.

A daughter.

He wasn’t just sleeping with her. He had a child with her.

My stomach twisted. My brushes, my canvases, the life I thought we shared… it all felt like a painted lie peeling off the wall.

Then I heard a softer voice. A woman.

“Howard… the doctor said it worked. Soon I’ll be able to see.”

“You’ve been blind since you had Hanna. You’ve never even looked at our girl. She looks just like you.”

“When Faye wakes up, she’ll realize she’s blind. I’ll tell her you’re the nanny I hired to help around the house. Hanna will be the orphan of an old friend. She won’t see the truth. Literally.”

Amber hesitated. “What if you two end up having a baby later? Won’t Hanna be pushed aside?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Faye will never have another child. I made sure she has the implant. Hanna will be my only heir.”

Something in me snapped then. The man I loved had just sentenced my body, my art, my sight to a lifetime of darkness… for her.

Amber’s voice turned sugary. “Howard, you always keep your word.”

That sweetness made my skin crawl. I knew her voice now. She used to be his secretary. Left a year ago, supposedly married. But she was carrying his child instead.

Four years of marriage. Not one real fight. He always put me first or so I thought. All this time he was building a life with her behind my back.

I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped me.

The sound made them pause.

“She’s coming around,” Howard muttered. “Go wait in the car.”

The door clicked shut.

I stayed still, tears soaking the pillow, until his footsteps came back. He sat beside me, his hand brushing my hair back like I was fragile glass.

“Faye. It’s me. You’re safe now,” he said softly.

The TV in the corner broadcast him leading a citywide manhunt for his “missing wife.” A perfect performance.

“Howard… why can’t I see anything?”

There was the smallest pause before he replied, “The men who took you… they sold your corneas. I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve protected you. But you don’t have to be afraid. From now on, I’ll be your eyes.”

I let him hold me, his scent thick with cologne and lies. My chest felt hollow, my hands empty, like every color had been drained from the world.

Because deep down, I already knew.

It wasn't the kidnappers who stole my sight.

It was Howard. My fucking husband!

I didn’t say a word.

I had been there for Howard when his whole world fell apart. The year his grandfather died, the McIntosh empire collapsed, and half the city turned their backs on him, I stayed. I was the one who begged my grandfather to help him keep his head above water. And even used my billion savings for his company secretly.

He’d looked at me back then like I was his salvation. Said he’d rebuild the McIntosh name brick by brick, and when the day came, he’d give me the kind of wedding no one in London would ever forget.

I believed him. And he kept his word. In two years, he had crushed his rivals, reclaimed the business, and climbed to the top.

I still remember the press conference. Cameras flashing, the smell of cigars in the air, him pulling out a diamond ring and kneeling like we were in some fairytale. “Faye,” he’d said, “I designed this ring myself. Only one in the world. Like you. Like my love for you. Without you, I’m nothing. And I’m not with you because I owe you… I’m with you because I love you. Marry me.”

That clip was everywhere the next day. Headlines called me the luckiest woman alive. Every girl in the city wanted my life. And maybe Howard did love me once… but that didn’t stop him from breaking me for someone else.

Amber.

For her, he’d risked everything. Including me.

When my sobs quieted, he asked gently, “You feeling okay? You want something to eat? I can make that soup you like.”

He always remembered my stomach problems. Back then, I would’ve smiled and said yes. Now, the offer made my skin crawl. He wasn’t being sweet… he was just trying to wash the blood off his conscience.

“Sure,” I muttered. “Soup sounds good.” Anything to get him out of the room.

Even though it was a hospital, I could tell it was one of his private suites. More like a penthouse than a ward. He had everything in here, down to a fully stocked kitchen.

When he left, I groped for the phone on the nightstand. Smooth glass, no buttons. I pressed the side until it buzzed.

A flat voice spoke—“Home. Messages. Double tap to open.” Blind-assist. I swiped, counting taps, hoping to reach my best friend’s name.

Instead, a voice note burst out:

“Howard, she called me Mama today. First time. You should’ve heard her. Let her say Dada for you next time.”

Amber.

My throat tightened. I was holding his phone, not mine.

I tapped again, and another message played.

“Can she call you Dada now? That’s huge. I’ll put Faye to bed and come over.”

His voice this time... low, full of joy. A joy I hadn’t heard in years.

I thought about the night before I was taken. Waking up for water, thinking he was in the study working. He wasn’t. He was with her.

Our wedding night flashed in my mind. I’d told him, “Howard, if you ever stop loving me, I'll give you back the ring, walk away and you’ll never see me again.”

He’d kissed me and sworn, “If I betray you, I’ll die alone.”

Footsteps came from the kitchen. I shoved the phone back in place.

Howard returned with the soup, sitting close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Here. Let me feed you.” He blew on the spoon, holding it like we were still in love.

Then his phone rang. He hesitated, then answered.

“Boss, the deal’s ready. Needs your signature.”

That voice wasn’t one of his men. It was Amber.

And the “deal” was just their way of saying she wanted him to come over.

There was a faint cry in the background. A baby’s.

Howard’s tone changed instantly. “On my way.”

He set the soup in my hands. “Something came up. Eat while it’s hot.”

I smiled, hiding the storm in my chest. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

He stared at me like he couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t clinging to him. But the baby mattered more. “You’re good, Faye,” he murmured, patting my head before leaving.

Once the door shut, I picked up my own phone this time.

I sent a voice note to Nico, my assistant who had run my gallery for years. “Find me a cornea donor. Book me a seat on the first flight out the day after tomorrow.”

My eyes had been my livelihood… every shade, every stroke, every piece of light on canvas passed through them before it reached the world. Howard had stolen them for his mistress. So I would steal everything from him in return.

But first, I needed eyes.

I used to paint every day. Colors, light, beauty. I believed in them the way I believed in him. But love fades faster than paint on a wall. And once it’s gone, all you see are the cracks.

Howard had made his choice. Now it was my turn.

I didn’t want him anymore.

--

When I woke, the light behind my eyelids told me it was already midday. The room was quiet. Too quiet.

I pushed myself up and tried to make my way to the bathroom, counting my steps. I still wasn’t used to walking blind. My shin smashed into the corner of a table, sending me crashing to the floor. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

The door opened. Footsteps quick. It’s Howard.

“Faye! What the hell are you doing on the floor?” He crossed the room fast, “You should’ve called me. Could’ve told me you needed something. Why didn’t you wait? I just stepped out for a minute.”

Lies. His clothes didn’t smell of wind or street. He hadn’t stepped outside at all.

He reached for me, and I forced my voice to stay flat. “I’m fine. Go back to whatever kept you busy.”

His hand came down on my hair in that patronizing pat he used to use in public, “There’s nothing more important than you.”

Once, those words would have made me smile. Once, I would have believed them. But now? Nothing.

I let him guide me to the bathroom, his grip firm on my arm like I might try to run. When I came out, he asked, “What do you feel like eating? I’ll make it.”

I ignored that. “I want to go home.”

He hesitated. “But your eyes…”

“Do you think I see better here? I don’t know this place. Of course I’ll run into things. At home, I know where everything is. I’ll manage.”

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

He handled the discharge like he was signing a business deal, then drove me back to the villa. I sank into the sofa, already mapping the quickest way to leave without him noticing.

Then he spoke, “Faye, there’s something I need to tell you. A friend of mine lost his wife in childbirth. Yesterday, he got into a bad accident. He didn’t make it. Before he died, he asked me to take care of his baby. I couldn’t say no. The kid’s still in the hospital, but I’ll bring her home tomorrow.”

He was good. If I didn’t already know the truth, I might’ve swallowed that whole.

I took a sip of water, keeping my voice even. “Alright. Bring that kid tomorrow.”

His arm came around my shoulders and kissed me. “That’s why I love you. Always thinking of others. From now on, we’ll be a family!”

I smiled faintly, the kind of smile a portrait wears when the artist has stopped loving the subject. Inside, I was already gone.

He cooked dinner. I pushed food around my plate, swallowing just enough to keep him from asking questions. Still, he noticed.

“You barely touched it. What’s wrong? I’ll make something else.”

It wasn’t the food. It was him. It was everything.

I shook my head, “I’m full.”

He started to press, but then the doorbell rang.

Howard went to open the door. The second I heard the click of the lock, I froze. A woman’s perfume drifted into the room. My perfume.

I heard his voice drop to whisper, “You’re early. I told you tomorrow morning. Where’s the kid?”

“With her Nanny,” Amber said softly. “She’s fine. I… I can’t stay at that hospital another night. It’s cold there. I’m cold without you.” Her voice trembled, “I hate being away from you, even for a few hours.”

Howard’s tone shifted instantly. “Don’t start crying. You just got stitched up. Crying’s bad for you.”

I sat perfectly still on the couch, fingers brushing against the old paint stain on my sweatpants, pretending I was lost in thought about my unfinished canvas.

“Howard,” I called out, louder than necessary. “Who’s at the door?”

So we were pretending. Fine. I could pretend too.

A moment later, he brought her in. His hand found mine, warm and heavy, “This is Amber. I hired her to help you out. And to take care of the baby.”

Ah, their baby.

“She used to be my secretary,” Howard went on. “Got married last year. Had a kid. Now she’s back.” He paused like the next part was a kindness. “She’s had trouble with her eyes lately, so she knows how it is for you. Until she heals, she can help you find your way around.”

My eyes. He had the audacity to say that.

Amber stepped forward. “Nice to see you again, ma’am. I’ll be looking after everything from now on. You… and the baby.”

She leaned on that word so hard it was a dare.

I just nodded. “Thanks.”

No reaction for her to feed on. That must have annoyed her, because the next thing I heard was the wet sound of a kiss. Then another. Then the faint shuffle of fabric.

The sofa creaked. My stomach turned. I remembered the nights Howard used to pull me down on that same sofa, how my skin would break out from the rough fabric. We’d stayed up one night knitting a blanket together to cover it. I thought that had meant something.

Apparently not.

I stood without a word and made my way upstairs. My foot caught on the second step and I stumbled, landing hard in my room. I curled on the floor, my hands clutching my stomach as nausea clawed up my throat.

I gagged. Hard.

Footsteps followed. Howard’s shadow filled the doorway. “Faye. What’s wrong?” He touched my shoulder and the nausea doubled.

Then Amber’s voice, sharp with curiosity. “Wait. Are you pregnant? I thought shes on implant?”

Howard’s hand froze on me. “Faye… did you get your period this month?”

I shook my head.

“It’s always regular,” I muttered. “Probably just stress.”

He stepped back like my words burned him. “That’s… not possible. I was careful. And the doctor said…” His voice trailed. Then he straightened. “We’re going for a checkup tonight. If you are pregnant, we’ll take care of it before it’s a problem.”

Amber laughed quietly. Mean. Pleased.

So he would blind me for her child. But my child? Not allowed to exist.

“Why would it be a problem?”

He hesitated. “Because… I made a promise to someone. I said I wouldn’t have kids of my own until her daughter is grown.”

That was the best he could do.

“I’m not pregnant,” I said flatly. “Go buy a test if you’re so desperate to know. I’m going to sleep. Both of you get out.”

I heard them leave. My body sank into the mattress, heavy as stone.

I was so tired.

And this time, I didn’t even dream.

--

When I woke again, sunlight was already pushing through the curtains. My stomach grumbled, so I figured I’d head to the kitchen.

But as I walked past the guest room, I froze.

Soft moans. A man’s low voice. A woman’s breathless laugh.

Daylight. And they still had the nerve.

I felt sick. My hunger vanished. I turned back toward my bedroom, poured myself a glass of cold water, and tried to swallow the nausea.

I didn’t care to listen to whatever game they were playing. I just wanted Howard to leave so I could disappear from this house without anyone seeing.

The bedroom door opened without warning.

I stiffened. “Who is it?”

Amber’s voice came in, sing-song sweet. “It’s me, ma’am.”

My grip tightened on the glass. “What do you want?”

She stepped in like she owned the place. “Howard just changed his clothes. He’s heading to the hospital to bring the baby home. I thought I’d come see if you needed something.”

Her tone said otherwise. This was no courtesy call. She was here to poke at me, see if I’d bleed.

“I don’t need anything,” I said, turning away. “You can leave.”

She ignored me, came closer, and grabbed my wrist. Her nails bit into my skin.

“You want to know what happened on your sofa yesterday?” she said. “Or what we just finished doing in the guest room?”

She smiled like a knife. “Howard said he likes women who aren’t afraid to take risks. Not boring little birds stuck in a cage.” She leaned in, her voice dripping venom. “And the kid he’s bringing back? That’s mine. You’ll be raising my baby from now on.”