My husband's childhood sweetheart kills my parents in an accident due to drunk driving. I want to call the police, but my husband blindfolds me and takes me to the cellar.

I'm tormented and subjected to inhumane treatment for the next three years. After each torture session, an icy male voice will ring out in my ear. "Do you still hate her, Sabrina?"

One day, I finally cave and submit to the icy voice. "No, I don't. I don't hate her anymore!"

I hear my husband's joyous laughter on the other end of the line.

On the day he welcomes me out of the cellar, I avoid his embrace. Yet he loses his mind when I ask him for a divorce.

I was in a damp, pitch-black cellar, hunched in a corner with my injured leg behind me. The walls were slimy and wet, and the moisture soaked through my blouse.

The door swung open, and a burst of light stung my eyes. I lifted my hand to block it. I heard footsteps and quickly shrank back, hiding deeper in the shadows.

"Mr. Carver sent me to get you, Mrs. Carver."

I looked up to see who it was. It was the bodyguard Henry had hired years ago.

I dropped my gaze and said, "Okay."

I struggled to get to my feet and stumbled a few shaky steps, limping badly.

The bodyguard looked shocked. "What happened to your leg, Mrs. Carver?"

I clutched the seam of my pants and looked down. "A cabinet fell on it earlier. It might be broken."

He stared at me, eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell Mr. Carver?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I let out a dry laugh.

What was I supposed to tell Henry Carver? Would he have let me go for treatment if I asked? Or would he have called a doctor for me?

"I'll help you," the bodyguard said, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward and took my arm.

We had just left the cellar when I saw Henry get out of a car with Joanna Liddell beside him.

"Henry, didn't I tell you she'd play the helpless victim to get you to feel sorry for her? Look at her—she can't even make it this short distance without someone holding her up," Joanna taunted.

Henry turned to look at me. He didn't say a word, but there was a smug gleam in his eyes. He walked over quickly and suddenly spread his arms wide in front of me.

I flinched and quickly dodged his hug. I hunched over like I couldn't even feel the sharp pain in my leg. "Don't hit me! Please, don't! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Henry froze, his arms hanging in the air. Slowly, he let them drop to his sides and stood before me.

"What's going on with her?" he questioned his bodyguard.

The bodyguard seemed taken aback by my reaction. He only snapped back to reality after hearing Henry's question.

"Mrs. Carver—"

"Henry!" Joanna shouted, interrupting the bodyguard.

Henry instinctively glanced back at her.

The bodyguard swallowed whatever he was about to say.

"Sabrina, don't tell me you're still upset that Henry locked you down there to reflect on your behavior. Is this whole dramatic act just to make him feel bad?

"That's enough. Cut the act. Since you've admitted you were wrong, Henry and I won't bring up that whole thing about you falsely accusing me again," Joanna said.

She put extra emphasis on the words "that whole thing".

My body suddenly stopped trembling.

Joanna chuckled. "See, Henry? Just like I told you."

I stayed crouched in the same spot.

Henry stood over me, his voice suddenly cold. "It's been three years, Sabrina! How much longer will it take for you to learn your lesson?"

"Alright, Henry, stop being mad. We've got to meet with Mr. Caldwell soon. Let's go," Joanna said.

When Henry saw I was still crouching on the ground, he gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles went white.

Exasperated, he snapped, "Sabrina, if you keep acting out, you might as well stay hidden and save yourself the embarrassment! You've been my wife for three years, but what have you actually done for me?

"It was Joan who had my back and took care of me. Without her, I would've fallen apart by now! Do you think you're still worthy of me?"

After saying that, he took Joanna's hand and turned to walk away.

Joanna shot me a mocking grin and mouthed, "Loser."

My body shook as I watched them leave together.

"Mrs. Carver! What happened to your pinky?" the bodyguard asked.

I slowly looked down at my right pinky. After three years apart, Henry barely spared me a glance before he left. He hadn't noticed my limp, let alone my right pinky crooked at an odd angle.

I let out a bitter laugh. "It's nothing. It broke once and never healed right."

"Let's get you to the hospital," the bodyguard said, helping me to my feet.

I felt completely drained and could only depend on his support.

…

Joanna had only been back with Henry for three years.

I always knew he'd been close to a girl since childhood. But something happened with her family, and she was sent abroad for years.

After that, Henry never dated anyone or even got close to other women. I knew he was waiting for her, and I was waiting for him, too.

Over the years, my family kept trying to set me up with different guys, but I politely turned them down. Mom and Dad even started thinking I might be into women.

One day, Henry showed up at my door in the pouring rain.

"Brina, I'm done waiting. Is there someone you want to marry? What do you think about me?" he asked.

Overcome with emotion, I threw my arms around him. He had never known how much I had loved him back then.

I gave my all to being a good wife, caring for him and meeting his every need. Eventually, I began to see how my dedication paid off.

But things changed as soon as Joanna showed up again.

I had a witness who could confirm that it was her who hit Mom and Dad with her car. She'd been driving drunk. Fearing she'd have to pay a ton in medical bills, she ran over them again and again.

But Henry refused to believe any of it. He vouched for Joanna, saying she'd been with him all night. In the end, even my witness retracted his statement.

I was left to face everything alone. They painted me as some madwoman driven by nothing but jealousy.

I would never forget the day I arrived at the hospital and saw Mom's and Dad's bodies—cold and mangled. Nor would I ever forget how Henry lured me into that cellar and locked me up without a second thought.

"Brina, you're losing it. You need to calm down," he'd told me then.

…

"How did you get this injury?" the doctor asked, frowning. He then gave the bodyguard beside me a quick once-over. "Are you her family?"

The bodyguard nodded reluctantly.

"This injury's been left for way too long. Why'd you wait until now? Even if we put the pinky back in place, it won't recover fully. And what happened to your leg?" the doctor questioned.

I slowly lifted my gaze and glanced at the bodyguard. I knew he was under Henry's orders.

I couldn't breathe a word about the cellar. If I did, Henry would never tell me where he'd buried Mom and Dad.

The bodyguard dropped me off at the villa and took off.

I noticed him entering the code while he was unlocking the door. It wasn't the old password anymore—it was Joanna's birthday.

I limped inside and glanced around. It looked the same as it did three years ago, but it felt totally different.

A pair of men's and women's slippers sat by the entrance. They must have been Henry's and Joanna's.

Henry's bedroom had two pillows on the bed. His clothes were neatly arranged on the left side of the closet, while Joanna's occupied the right.

In the bathroom, I saw two toothbrushes and two rinsing cups next to a bunch of women's lotions and creams. It was obvious that Henry and Joanna had been sharing a bed for quite some time.

I shut the door behind me and stepped out of the room that was no longer mine. Then, I saw two people locked in a deep, breathless kiss under the dim moonlight.

I switched on the living room light.

Joanna's cheeks were flushed, and she looked shocked. Henry instinctively shoved her away.

"When'd you get back?" he asked, rubbing his temple. "I drank way too much tonight. If Joanna hadn't brought me home, I don't know how I would've escaped those drunks."

Then, he frowned at me and muttered, "Brina, this was supposed to be your job. If you hadn't acted like a maniac back then, I wouldn't have had to struggle so much these past few years."

I stood there, letting him go on with his complaints.

Joanna came out of the kitchen holding a cup of water. "Here, drink this to soothe your throat."

Her gentleness made her seem like a caring, considerate wife, especially compared to how scruffy I looked now.

Henry's irritation grew, and he let out a deep sigh. He chugged the water she handed him.

"Joan's on the hunt for a place, but until she finds one, she'll be staying with us," he said.

"I know. Your bedroom's already cluttered with her things," I said quietly.

His expression stiffened, and the cup slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. He must've thought I'd continue staying quiet.

"You were in my bedroom?" Henry asked.

His deep, solemn voice and the sound of glass shattering instantly brought me back to the time I was stuck in that dark, moldy cellar.

My mind went blank, and I blurted out, "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"

Henry was taken aback. After a beat, he stepped closer, looking puzzled. "Brina, what's wrong? I was just asking a simple question."

I didn't answer him.

Instead, Joanna let out a quiet sigh. "Sabrina, you really don't need to act this way. I had no idea you still hated me so much. It's been three years, and you haven't changed. You're not trying to fool Henry now that you're out, are you?"

Suddenly, something seemed to click in Henry's mind. "Is that it, Sabrina? How many times do I have to tell you? I was out that night on business, and Joan was with me. Why can't you trust me? Do you realize you almost killed her?

"You called her a murderer, and her career's ruined because of it! She can't even step outside without being pointed at and judged! Do you know how much she's suffered because of you? How can you be so awful?

"Y-You have no idea that Joanna nearly threw herself off a building because of you!"