I even learned how to cook for him, how to please his family and friends. I thought my dedication would eventually earn his love and appreciation. I was wrong.

The moment Bethany appeared, all my sacrifices became a joke. He looked at her with a love and tenderness he never once gave me. He bought her expensive jewelry, threw lavish birthday parties for her, did all the romantic things I once dreamed of. Meanwhile, I became invisible.

He grew distant. Cold. Indifferent. He forgot my birthday. Forgot my favorite things. Forgot the promises he once made to me.

“Hazel, I will love you forever. Only you. I’ll never let you go.”

After what happened that night, Rio assumed I would act like I always did—swallow my pain, endure his temper, pretend nothing had happened. Maybe he thought a warm bath could wash away my humiliation, could cleanse him of his sins.

He was wrong. Some things, once shattered, could never be pieced back together.

His phone rang, slicing through the stillness. The name on the screen blinked. Beth.

Without hesitation, he answered, his voice shifting to gentle and affectionate, the complete opposite of the man who had just shredded me with his words.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

Bethany’s sugary voice poured through the speaker, laced with a childish whine, “What are you doing?”

“I’m just finishing something up, baby.”

“I miss you.”

“You miss me? Well, I miss you too.” Rio chuckled, his tone dripping with indulgence. “What do you want to eat? I’ll grab it on the way.” He didn’t even try to hide it. He flirted with her as though I wasn’t there, as though I didn’t exist.

I closed my eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, trying my hardest not to gag.

Then it hit me—the deafening crack of my heart breaking. My eyes snapped open as something rose in my throat. I sat up straight and gagged.

“What now?” he snapped, irritated.

“I feel sick,” I wiped my mouth, glaring at him. “I feel sick just looking at you,” I added coldly.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the dry heaving or the hatred in my eyes. As he buttoned his shirt, he shot me a condescending glance.

“Oh, please.” I could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “If you were so miserable, why didn’t you say anything? Are you trying to put on a show? Gosh, you’re as dramatic as ever.”

He grabbed his coat and made for the door, pausing for a second before adding, without turning around, “And don’t even bring up divorce again. It’s getting old.”

The moment the door slammed shut, I rushed to the sink, gagging violently. My stomach twisted in agony as I vomited until there was nothing left.

“Rio, you bastard.” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face before lifting my gaze to the mirror.

Pale. Haggard. Broken. The woman staring back at me was a ghost of who I used to be. I let out a bitter laugh. Was this really me?

For days, I had been plagued by nausea, unable to keep anything down. At first, I thought it was just the sheer disgust from everything Rio and Bethany had done to me. But as I lowered my gaze, dread pooled in my stomach.

Two red lines. Stark. Unmistakable.

I was pregnant. With Rio’s child.

Isn’t that just the cruelest kind of irony? The moment I finally decided to walk away from this marriage, life threw this at me.

Should I get rid of it? My fingers tightened around the small plastic device, my mind spinning. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, where a fragile life—my flesh and blood—was beginning to grow. But I couldn’t imagine raising this child in a home without a father.

There was no way I’d tell Rio. He’d just see it as another one of my schemes, another trick to trap him. Fine. If he could be heartless, then I could be ruthless.

The surgery was scheduled for seven days later.

For the next few days, I drifted through life like a ghost, mechanically going through the motions—work, eat and sleep—trying to numb my heart. But my dreams betrayed me.

At night, I’d see Rio. He’d hold me gently, his hands caressing my stomach, his eyes filled with love. He’d whisper that he would take care of me and the baby, promising me the happiness I had always longed for. I would smile, but as the dream unfolded, tears would slip from my eyes.

And then I would wake up. My pillow would be soaked. It had all been a dream. But the pain was real—sharp, gut-wrenching, inescapable.

Reality was crueler than any nightmare.

Rio never came back. He was still with Bethany, plastered all over the tabloids, flaunting their love for the whole world to see.

On my phone screen, Bethany’s heavily made-up face loomed large, curled up in Rio’s arms, posing seductively for the camera. A message followed.

“Hazel, did you see this? This is your husband. Look how much he loves me. He can’t get enough of me.”

He taunt continued, “You’re nothing but his pet. A dog he can kick aside whenever he pleases. Woof woof, are you wagging your tail yet?”

Then came Rio’s low chuckle in the video. His fingers pinched Bethany’s cheek.

“Don’t be so mean, baby. She’s served me for years and…”

His words trailed off, but that sneering tone—more venomous than any curse—made me sick to my stomach.

I stared at the screen, feeling my stomach churn, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t throw up. I’d already been vomiting bile for days. I threw away everything that reminded me of Rio over the last six years—photos, gifts, clothes—nothing was left.

Bethany, you won. You succeeded in making me sick, in making me utterly lose faith in this marriage, in this man.

Dragging my tired body home, I had hoped for some semblance of comfort from my family. Even just a simple greeting would have sufficed. But instead, I was met with a barrage of harsh words.

“Look at you! You’re way too old to still be acting like a child!”

My mother’s sharp voice pierced the air, each word a knife twisting into my already shattered heart.

“Rio has everything. Why didn’t you just appreciate him? Why should you go for divorce? Have you lost your mind?”

I gave a bitter smile. In their eyes, Rio’s good qualities mattered more than my happiness.

Their so-called concern was nothing but fear of losing their cash cow.

“He cheated on me,” I said it weakly, my voice hoarse.

“Men fool around all the time. What rich man doesn’t have a mistress? Just turn a blind eye and move on!”

My little brother Nate, who lived off my support, now had the nerve to lecture me, “You really are out of your mind. As long as he’s giving you money, who cares what he does? You’re lucky he even married you!”

I looked at their greedy faces and suddenly, I felt so tired, so drained.

Family, it turns out, wasn’t much of a sanctuary when money was involved.

I always thought home was supposed to be a refuge, a safe place.

But now, I realized there was no escape.

The day before my surgery, Rio asked to meet. He wanted to talk about the divorce papers. I thought, maybe, just maybe, he had finally come to his senses. Maybe he felt a shred of guilt, a hint of pity. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Rio. It was Bethany, all decked out in thick makeup and a glaring red dress.

“You didn’t really think Rio would divorce you, did you, Hazel? He’s just playing you,” she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.

Bethany eyed me from head to toe, her face twisted in disgust. “Have you looked in a mirror? Jeez, I’ve never seen a woman as pathetic as you. You’re so pale and thin, you don’t even look human. No wonder he can’t stand you. No man would.”

I struggled to keep my composure, my stomach churning with revulsion. “Where’s Rio?”

Bethany’s laugh cut through the air. “You really thought Rio would show up?” she scoffed. “I was the one who sent those texts, dummy. Didn’t think you’d actually fall for it. Oh my god, you’re so dumb it’s hilarious.”

Before I even registered what I was doing, my hand moved on its own. A sharp crack echoed through the room, followed by the sting in my palm.

Bethany staggered back, her eyes blazing with disbelief. “You… you dare slap me?” she hissed.

I met her glare with a cold, cutting laugh. “Yeah, I did, Bethany. And let me make one thing clear—I’m not someone you can push around.”

“I let you get away with things for the sake of keeping the peace with Rio. But now? I don’t give a damn anymore and I won’t just stand by while you pull your crap.”

I turned on my heel, ready to walk away, my head pounding with frustration.

But before I could take a step, the door burst open with a deafening crash. Two towering men stormed in, grabbing me—one on each side—locking me in a vice-like grip.

“What’s wrong? Thought you were tough?” Bethany sneered, stepping closer. “Not so tough now, huh?”

Her voice dripped with venom as she smirked. “You’re about to find out what happens when you cross me.”

She dug into her bag and pulled out a handkerchief and the moment she waved it in the air, a sickly sweet, cloying odor filled the room. My body froze in recognition. I knew what it was and my pulse spiked with panic. I fought against their grip, desperate to get away, but it was too late.

The cloth was pressed against my nose and mouth, the chemical smell overwhelming. My world spun, my vision blurred and everything faded to black.

***

I was waking up in a dimly lit, rundown warehouse. My wrists were bound to a rough wooden post, the rope digging into my skin, burning and tight. The sharp sting of the ropes was the first thing I felt as I struggled to clear my groggy head.

“Well, well, look who’s awake,” came Bethany’s voice, cold and mocking.

I blinked, trying to focus. And then, I saw her—Bethany, also tied up on a nearby post. Her smirk was still present, but there was something else too—triumph.

Before I could make sense of my surroundings, the door to the warehouse swung open with a loud creak. Two men entered, each holding a whip. Their lecherous grins made my stomach churn, their eyes hungry with malicious intent.

Bethany’s face lit up with a twisted sort of satisfaction as she saw them. “Rio just got the words,” she said, her voice dripping with triumph. “You two have fun with this slut. Make sure she knows her place.”

My heart sank as the realization hit me: this entire situation, this kidnapping, was orchestrated by Bethany. She had staged this whole thing, playing everyone in her cruel little game. But for what? To humiliate me? To break me? To destroy everything I had left?

I could feel my insides turn, a wave of nausea crashing over me as I saw the glee in Bethany's eyes. She was enjoying this—every second of it.

“Don't come any closer,” I whispered, my voice shaking, weak from the drugs and the pain. The rope around my wrists was cutting into me and I could barely hold on to consciousness.

But the men paid no attention. They walked toward me, leering with filthy smiles on their faces. One of them reached out, grabbing at my clothes with hands that made my skin crawl.

In a flash of pure instinct, I jerked my head to the side, biting down on his hand as hard as I could. Blood spurted from the wound and he screamed, pulling back in pain.

“Fucking bitch!” he yelled, his anger flaring as he slapped me hard across the face. The impact was brutal, sending stars flashing behind my eyes and the pain exploded through me in a fiery rush.

I spit blood onto the floor, locking eyes with him through the haze of pain. “You’d better kill me now, or I will make you pay for this,” I hissed, each word laced with fury.

The other man quickly grabbed his partner’s arm, pulling him back. “Don’t ruin it, idiot,” he muttered. “Beth wants her in one piece.”

With that, the first man cracked the whip, the sharp snap of it slicing through the air. The tip of the whip struck me hard across the back, the searing pain lancing through my body. My scream tore through the air, echoing in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. One strike, two strikes, three... each one worse than the last.

The pain was unbearable, my body trembling, my vision swimming. And then, suddenly, a stabbing pain in my stomach made me gasp. I felt warmth spreading between my legs, a sticky, cloying sensation that sent waves of panic surging through me.

I didn't want to die. Not like this. I was still so young and there was so much I hadn't done yet. The fear was suffocating, drowning me in its grip.

“Rio... help me,” I whispered, my voice a broken plea, the tears beginning to fall freely.

Bethany’s voice suddenly rang out in desperation. “Rio! Please... help me!” Her cries were sharp and full of fear, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Just as I thought I couldn’t take any more, the door to the warehouse burst open.