Missy’s POV

Everyone said Micah Abbott was like a saint—untouched, unattached, above worldly temptations.

I sold my soul to possess his heart.

On his birthday, I knelt on a floor covered in broken glass just to tie his shoes. When he had a stomach flare-up, I carried his full-grown ass up eighteen flights of stairs. I broke two ribs and didn’t even cry.

He became my husband, but in eight years of marriage, he never touched even the tip of my finger. “It’s against my values,” he said.

One time at a charity auction, I bid on some rare wooden prayer beads. His sweet little first love—back from Italy—whined that she wanted it too.

Without hesitation, I made my move; I raised the paddle and outbid her.

She stormed out in tears, got in a car wreck that night, and ended up unable to bear kids.

Later that night, as soon as Micah came home, he pinned me against the window in our high-rise villa.

He ripped my dress open like he’d been holding back for years.

He grabbed my hips like I was something he owned.

He went so wild that he even shoved the beads inside me. One. By. One.

“Micah…” He made me say his name over and over—all night long.

I thought he’d finally come to his senses. I thought, ‘God, my husband finally saw me!’

But then came another auction, and he stood there in a tailored suit and smiled like the devil.

“One million,” he said. “For her first-time sex tape!”

Some old creep in the crowd actually raised his hand to bid.

My fingers shook, but I pressed the button again like my life depended on it.

——

The auctioneer chuckled. “This next item’s a little special,” he said, his voice thick with sleaze.

“From Mr. Abbott’s private collection. An intimate video. Starting at one million. But first, let’s give you all a 10-second preview.”

When the screen lit up, my body went numb.

There I was—naked, slammed up against the window. Every inch of me was exposed.

And the beads—God—the prayer beads were scattered across the floor, catching the light like it was some movie set.

I turned to look at Micah. He sat calmly in the VIP section, rolling prayer beads through his fingers like he was in church. Right next to him was his protégé, Becca Winthrop, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

“Why?” I choked out, tears blurring my vision. “Because I got the prayer beads?”

He glanced at me like I was dirt on his shoe.

“You know exactly why, Missy.”

And just like that, my heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand.

That fucking prayer beads was the final item of the night. Becca wanted it. So did I, so I outbid her. She stormed off, wrecked her car, and lost her fertility.

But I never thought Micah would blame that on me!

I used to think he was just… emotionally cold. In our eight years of marriage, he never once touched even my fingertips, always saying it would disrupt his spiritual practice. I thought that was just how he was.

But then, I saw how he looked at Becca tonight—hot and romantic.

Apparently, even the “enlightened” can fall passionately in love… even to a homewrecker.

He had no idea that after his car crashed, when doctors said he might never wake up—Becca left the city and didn’t visit him, not even once.

I was the one who stayed. I slept in hospital waiting rooms. Spent three months begging doctors to keep trying. Every. Single. Day.

I wanted to tell him—so many times. But whenever I looked into those cold, hollow eyes of his, the words just wouldn’t come.

A voice from the crowd dragged my mind back to the auction hall.

“Skin’s real nice,” some guy drawled. “Wonder how many times she moans in the full video.”

Then this bloated guy in a cheap suit stood up, buttons stretched tight over his gut.

He licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

“Three million!” he shouted. “That video’s mine! Gonna spend all night enjoying that!”

Missy’s POV

I knew him. Derrick—the bastard son of the Carmichaels. He groped my hand at a charity gala once. I slapped him across the face in front of everyone.

Now, his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he looked at me with that same greedy gaze.

I was shaking. My stomach churned violently.

“It’s mine!” I said, my voice trembling.

The auction room went dead silent for a beat. Then—laughter. Explosive, mocking laughter.

“Holy shit!” Micah’s buddy Aries Cavendish nearly fell off his seat. “Didn’t you just buy one last month, Missy? Micha’s rich, sure, but not ‘burn-money-for-fun’ rich.”

He snorted and leaned back, eyes dripping with contempt. “Come on. Let the others take a look. It’s not like you’re giving away your dignity. That ship already sailed.”

More laughter. They caught the scent of blood. Micah didn’t even look at me. Didn’t defend me.

They could all see it—I meant nothing to him.

“Acting like some pure saint? Bitch, weren’t you grinding on camera?”

“Micah doesn’t even give a damn. What the hell are you playing at?”

“Maybe this is his kink—humiliation in high def.”

I bit down hard on my lip. Blood flooded my mouth.

The auction assistant handed me the confirmation slip, hesitant. “Miss, are you sure you want to place the bid?”

“I’m sure.” I signed without hesitation.

“Missy!” Micah shot to his feet, his prayer beads tightening in his hand as he stormed toward me and gripped my wrist hard. His eyes were dark, swirling with rage. “You’re coming home. Now.”

Becca trailed after him with that fake little laugh. “Missy, Micah hates losing face. Do you really need to humiliate him like this?”

She blinked those fake-innocent eyes. “Besides, you’re using his money to buy it anyway. Letting someone else win that disc is a better investment for the company!”

I ignored her.

“Ohhh,” she said, louder this time. “So is it someone else’s money? Got a sugar daddy funding your little rebellion, huh? I mean, it’s not like Micah ever even touches you…”

She smiled sweetly. “Tell you what, if it’s really that big a deal, I’ll pay for it myself.”

Micah’s face darkened. “My money isn’t for you to blow like this.”

I looked at him—at that face I loved for eight years. All I saw now was disgust.

“Charge it,” I said, shoving him aside and handing over the card.

They gave me the disc. A thin, shiny little circle with my humiliation pressed into its grooves.

“Micah,” I whispered, tracing its edge. “Do you even remember why I fought for that prayer beads the last time?”

His brows furrowed slightly.

“It was the last thing my father ever made before he died,” I said. “I told you that. More than once. But you never listened.”

That night, when I parked in front of the Abbotts's place, my hands were still shaking on the wheel.

“Missy…” Barbara, Micah’s mother, came out, wrapping my frozen hands in hers. “You look pale. Did he hurt you again?”

“I want a divorce.”

His father Rudolph slammed his newspaper down. “What did that little bastard do this time?”

I pulled out my phone. Played the clip from the auction.

“Son of a bitch,” Rudolph muttered, his face livid. “How the hell did we raise a kid like that?”

Barbara squeezed my hand. “You’re a good girl. This family owes you far too much.”

By sundown, the lawyer delivered the divorce papers. Two crisp copies on the coffee table.

That’s when the door slammed open.

Micah walked in—with Becca on his arm.

I stood up so fast the fruit knife clattered to the floor.

Missy’s POV

Micah shoved Becca behind him like I was some kind of threat. “Missy! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m divorcing you.” My voice was calm. I held out the papers. “I’ve already signed mine.”

He gave me this cold little smirk. “You think this reverse psychology is gonna work on me?”

My eyes stung. “You sold my tape. How do you even call yourself a husband?”

Becca marched over and grabbed my arm. “Missy, don’t be so dramatic. The auction? That was just a joke. Chill.”

I yanked my arm back. My sapphire pendant snapped off my neck and shattered on the floor.

It was the only thing my mom left me!

I slapped her.

And then—he smacked my face.

Blood filled my mouth. My ears rang.

He rushed to help her up. She sniffled and looked at me with those crocodile tears. “Missy, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the pendant, I swear…”

Micah didn’t say a word. Just pulled out a wad of cash and threw it at me.

“Twenty grand. You can buy ten of those cheap trinkets. Want to go crazy? Do it outside.”

I dropped to my knees. Picked up the shattered sapphire pieces one by one. My hands were bleeding by the end of it.

It rained hard at the cemetery.

I clutched my mom’s headstone and sobbed until my whole body shook.

“Mom… I was wrong. I thought if I loved him enough, if I worked hard enough… he’d see me. But…”

Even the wind sounded like it was crying.

Suddenly—I heard the click of heels.

Becca stood there under a black umbrella, smirking.

I glared at her. “Get out of here. You’re not welcome.”

She said nothing at first. She just smiled. Then she pulled out a lighter.

One flick, and she dropped it into the dry grass.

The fire… roared to life.

“Mom!” I lunged at the flames, slapping at them with my bare hands.

But then—Becca started coughing violently.

Through the rain, Micah’s figure appeared. He ran toward us, hisbeyes widening when he saw the fire.

“Missy, are you out of your damn mind?!”

Becca collapsed against him, crying like a damsel in distress. “Micah, I was worried about her. We came to find her—and she tried to burn me alive!”

He wrapped his arms around her. Didn’t even look at me. “Let’s go. She’s not worth it.”

They walked away while I stayed on my knees in the mud. My hair smelled like burnt ends.

When the staff finally came to put the fire out, I collapsed in front of my mom’s tomb.

“Thank God… You’re still here…” I whispered, trembling.

One of the workers hesitated. “Ma’am, why did you try so hard to protect it?”

I blinked at him. “It’s my mother’s grave.”

He looked confused. “But this… this is an empty grave.”

I froze. “What?”

He scratched his head. “A few days ago, your husband’s assistant—Becca, I think—called and paid to have the remains moved.”

Becca.

She was never a secretary.

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone and called Micah.

He took forever to answer, and his voice came cold. “What?”

“Where is Becca?”

His voice turned sharper. “Missy, I’m running out of patience.”

He was about to hang up when I heard something in the background—a server, saying the name of a hotel.

I bolted upright and headed straight there.

The hotel ballroom was glowing with lights and laughter.