I had always thought that cheating was a high-input thing with low output, but some people just liked it, like my husband.

I first found out he was cheating on me from a photo my best friend sent me.

1

I received a photo of my husband cheating on me.

In the photo, he had his arm around a woman.

The photo was taken by my friend Vivian Barber, who followed my husband and took it secretly.

"I heard that he is taking the mistress to Quin Island." Vivian egged me out, "Rannie, let's catch them in the act!"

My husband Peter Norris was the CEO of a construction company. He was a real tycoon with over a hundred million dollars, but he was also a loyal reader of mine, familiar with my works and characters.

We met at one of my book signing events and then fell in love.

He respected me and agreed to be child-free. We got engaged and got married on May 1st, and we were going to have a grand wedding banquet on Thanksgiving Day.

I lost my mind and took a boat to Quin Island with Vivian.

The boatman had dark skin and jokingly called himself Black Skin. His real name was Carter Blake. I saw his name on Vivian’s phone when she called him to order the boat.

I was not in the mood for jokes, looking at the sea, feeling distressed.

The boat was a small yacht with only the three of us. Vivian was crazy about taking selfies and then spending a long time editing the photos.

She was in a good mood and occasionally wanted to pictures with me, but I had no interest.

My husband had no signs of cheating before. He could tell me if he didn’t love me anymore. We were all adults and I wouldn’t act like a little girl that would make a scene.

I couldn’t accept that my husband returned my love for him in this way.

"You don't seem to feel sorry for me at all," I said, "You are heartless."

Vivian tidied up her messy hair, deliberately pulled down her neckline, and started to take selfies again. Then she said to me while editing the photos, "So I live carefree. I advise you not to get married. With your status and looks, you can date whatever men you like. Why did you have to marry a tycoon?"

Black laughed.

I found that Black had been staring at me.

I had fair skin and delicate features. Many men treated me as their dream lover.

Fortunately, I had Vivian with me. After floating on the turbulent sea for an hour, we finally arrived in Quin Island.

Black took us to a place that had many ancient buildings.

After Vivian got off the boat, she leaned close to my ear and said, "I'll go to the bathroom, and Black will take you to find a place to stay. I'll find you later."

Without waiting for my response, Vivian quickly left.

Although Black looked fierce, he was extremely polite: "Ms. Granger, please follow me."

"Do you know my name?" I was a little nervous.

"You are the famous beauty writer Rannie Granger. Of course, I know you. I even have your Supermodel under my pillow."

Supermodel was my recent book, which told the story of an unknown model Anne Roland who successfully became the world's top model with her unparalleled appearance and extraordinary emotional intelligence.

The character Anne Roland was based on myself.

The room Black took me to was dark and a bit damp, with a salty smell of sea breeze and a lingering ambiguous atmosphere left by the former guests.

Black walked to the door and said, "Have a good rest."

I smiled and sent a voice message to Vivian, "Where are you? I'm in room 109."

I didn't receive a reply for a long time and I was a little anxious. I made a video call, but no one answered. I called again and it said Vivian’s phone was turned off.

Suddenly, I felt that something was wrong, so I immediately grabbed my bag and prepared to find Vivian.

But the door was locked.

Everything went black before my eyes.

2

I was illegally detained.

No one came to open the door and I couldn’t break it open even after smashing it. I was able to call the police, but all I could hear was a busy tone until my damn phone didn’t work anymore.

I had exhausted all my strength and collapsed on the ground, sweat soaking through my backless Prada skirt. The room had no windows. There was nothing here but a wooden bed with cheap white sheets and a wooden bench that I had smashed.

After my phone ran out of battery, I was in a huge panic until the door opened again.

Black, who changed into a suit, came in. I immediately pounced on him, only to be pushed back onto the bed.

Behind him was a man wearing frameless glasses. He had a perfectly groomed hairstyle and was well-dressed. This man glanced at me.

"She’s really Rannie. Great."

The man only said that. He knew me. I was somewhat famous in New York, but now my fame would make these men become excited.

The man with frameless glasses left.

Black waved his hand and several people came into the room.

They take me to a floor cage and throw me in, along with a couple of other women. Then they filled the cage with seawater and a scruffy old man brushed over us with a mop.

As he brushed, he shouted at us, "Wife, wife."

It turned out he was a fool.

The whole process took just over half an hour.

Black nodded in satisfaction and then ordered the people around him, "Take them to the Beauty Pavilion."

The Beauty Pavilion was also a suite that was extravagantly decorated. It had a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and ink marble on the floor.

There were three king-sized beds in the room, with women lying on them who had perfect figures.

They looked dull and had no expressions, like puppets lying on the bed.

Finally, someone came in. It was the man wearing glasses that I had met before. He was dressed in top-of-the-line Canali custom-made menswear from Italy as if he were on a date with a woman of equal status.

What made me feel strange was that he was holding a bright pink rose of the French Perle Prize in his hand.

He put the rose in front of me and made a very elegant gentleman's gesture, then pounced on me.

3

In the following days, I truly experienced what it felt like to be a puppet.

Three large beds were separated by two beautiful hollow gold screens, in the style of the Victorian era. The screens were the barriers between us.

The woman on the next bed was called Cici Swift. She said that this was a bomb shelter left over from the early days, which had been redecorated to look like what it was now.

In addition to this Beauty Pavilion, there were many other rooms outside, each with a different decoration style. They were in the style of Chinese, European, and Mediterranean style, and even classrooms, hospitals, and rural courtyards.

I asked, "What if someone gets sick?"

She said, "If they can be cured, the doctors will come to treat them. Otherwise, they would be taken away by a man with Bob. I don’t know what he will do with them."

I guessed they might have been killed.

The woman on the other bed didn’t move or speak.

I didn’t know the time, but could only judge by the delivery time that almost a month had passed.

All kinds of men came here. There were boatmen who smelled like tuna, rough and tough men with beards, and even rich young men who might be under 18.

What was even crazier was a fat guy came to take a picture with me with my new book Supermodel.

We were in hell and were better off dead.

It wasn't until I got sick that I finally got a little rest. Cici said that seeing a doctor was the only chance in a month to get sunlight for three days.

She would always accompany me.

I didn’t hate these men but I hated Black.

On this secret island, Black used me as an important tool to earn money.

Cici was 24 years old and was a kindergarten teacher. She looked like an actress. She came to the island with her secret lover after being married for half a year but unexpectedly fell into hell.

She said to me, "I will never forget the terrified and begging look he had when I was taken away!"

Cici tried to escape but was caught and brought back every time. In the end, she learned her lesson and did whatever she was told.

She also told me that there were preschool teachers, nurses, office workers, as well as writers and artists like me here.

It was a hidden place specifically designed to serve special guests.

"Do not resist. There is only one pier by the seaside, and it's only unguarded at night." Cici revealed crucial information.

I kept it in mind.

"If you manage to escape, please find my husband and tell him that I am here and ask him to save me. Don't mention anything about my lover. If you succeed, I will share half of my property with you."

She gave me her husband's contact information, which I memorized.

I couldn't make any promises to Cici because I was in trouble myself.

I obtained some medicine. The person who treated us was a mute. Cici said her name was Emily Linton, a nurse who knew some basic nursing knowledge and pharmacology.

Emily Linton arrived a year later than Cici and had really come to apply for a job as a nurse. However, once she arrived, she couldn't go back. Her vocal cords were injured from crying and shouting, and she couldn't make a sound now.

Cici said that she had been pregnant twice. The first time, she had a miscarriage because she had sex with a man when she was pregnant for less than three months. The second time, she used a stick to abort the baby herself.

Chills ran down my spine.

4

After two consecutive months of not having my period, I was acutely aware that my worst fears were still happening.

I was pregnant.

I didn’t know who the child belonged to.

As my belly grew day by day, Black appeared again and asked a few people to drag me outside.

Emily gave me some medicine. After 6 hours, the fetal sac was expelled from my body, and a large amount of bright red blood stimulated my nerves.

I passed out.

Emily was in charge of taking care of me.

Without expression, she gestured to me with various hand signs, just like those gestures in the movie, but I couldn't understand at all.

I paid more attention to Emily and felt that she was telling me to be careful of certain things and certain people, like Cici.

I didn’t want to give up on escaping, and the arrival of that man gave me a glimmer of hope.

When I first saw his familiar eyes, I was a bit dazed.

"Rannie!"

I was surprised, not because he called my name, but because of his voice, which reminded me of his name Tony Smith. He was no doubt my most loyal fan.

He was an IT guy who worked as a senior programmer at a domestic mobile communication company. He was also a pretty powerful hacker.

He could easily get the pictures on my Twitter that required payment to view for free.

Vivian once commented that Tony was like a loyal dog by my side, willing to die for me.

I once told him, "We are not meant to be together. I don't dislike you nor do I like you. You should find a woman who can truly live with you."

He worshiped me as a goddess because of my words I couldn't resist his persistence and had a sumptuous candlelight dinner with him on Valentine's Day last year when my husband was on a business trip.

The dinner consisted of brightly coloured roses, a one-on-one violin solo, and a small, not-expensive, but very heartfelt gift, a portrait that he made up from all the photos of me attending events and Twitter selfies.

This exhausted his four months' salary. After dinner, I returned all the expenses and advised him, "You should earn money to support your family and take care of your parents. Don't be obsessed with me anymore. You will be tired."

He listened to me and accepted the money.

5

He said to me, "I saw your situation on the dark web, and took all the money you returned to me to order you. I'm going to save you!"

My kindness to him was rewarded.

He planned to trick the people outside to open the door, so I immediately put on his coat and prepared to break through with him. But Cici suddenly said to him in the darkness, "No, Rannie. You have to let him go back first, and then call the police. Otherwise, neither of you will be able to escape!"

I admit that Cici's method was the most secure. I couldn’t put Tony in danger.

But he stubbornly insisted on saving me now.

I calmed down and analyzed the current situation with him. I kissed his forehead and said, "Good boy, listen to me. Leave the island first and then call the police!"

Once he was a joke in Vivian's eyes, a pet in my eyes, but now he had become my hero.

"About 6 people are guarding this place, and the rest are indigenous people. There is only one pier by the seaside, with a boat. It's about an hour's sail from the coast, about 31 miles. I will report to the police as soon as I leave. You must hold on!"

He left basic information, which gave me hope.

He knelt in front of me once more in agony for not being able to get me out in time, crying like a child who had made a mistake.

I humbly knelt in front of him and buried the face of the man I used to despise in my chest.

I told him to go back and report to the police to save me. Afterward, I would accompany him for a candlelight dinner every Valentine's Day.

After he left, Black appeared. Cici unexpectedly told Black about Tony's appearance.

To reward Cici, Black allowed her to take a month off and to move freely, except for leaving the island.

Cici turned out to be the one who had been monitoring me, and I mistakenly took this scheming bitch as my best friend.

I suddenly realized that my naivety might have harmed Tony.

But I didn't show my hatred. Instead, I said to Cici, who came back from her vacation, "Thanks to you, otherwise, my reputation will be ruined if he leaves the island."

Cici was stunned, but finally reacted and said, "We can't let people outside the island know that we are here!"

I forced a smile and firmly remembered Cici's hypocritical face.

I swore she would pay a painful price for what she did today.

6

I tried to find any opportunity to escape, but all the items and decorations in the room seemed to be attached to the walls and cabinets.

They couldn’t be moved, let alone be taken down.

Since Tony’s incident, Black had become stricter in controlling me.

I felt like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, waiting for the final judgment of fate, until the arrival of the masked man.

When he took off his clothes, I saw the familiar mole on his chest. He was my husband, the person I used to be closest to.

My mind went blank and I was trembling.

I couldn't help but tentatively call out to him, "Peter Norris?"

Peter Norris was my husband's name, rustic. I gave him an elegant pen name called Adam, but he liked to be called Mr. Norris by others.

He suddenly stopped but didn't turn around.

"Save me," I begged, "Peter, save me. I'm your wife!"

At that moment, I even forgot why he appeared here.

Although Tony was my husband, I had never looked up to him. The only reason why I married him was because his obedience and money satisfied my great vanity.

That slut Vivian always laughed at him for having no taste, because he asked for salt in his coffee. However, she liked his generosity when he threw out a stack of cash to pay the bill.

Vivian always used the excuse of testing him to deliberately ask him out. But every time he behaved to my satisfaction. Judging from Vivian's tone when she came back, he was a loyal rich man who would be faithful to the end.

But now, reality had shattered my illusion.

I, the once arrogant beauty writer, the wife who used cultural cultivation to humiliate her husband, was now completely defeated.

He didn't say a word and ignored me. I cursed him as an ungrateful bastard who was bound to die a horrible death

He suddenly stopped and said with a condescending attitude,

"You are like the willow that seduces the wind, putting yourself in a high place and looking down on all beings. You are so noble that people look up to you, but you still can't live without the money in my bank card. You fucking rely on my money. Why do you always look down on me?"

I thought he abandoned me because I insisted on being child-free, but it wasn't. It was my arrogance that he couldn't bear.

Peter was so cold the whole time.

But what's even more terrifying than his indifference was his last words before leaving, "I won't let you leave alive, nor will I let you die easily here."

His words contained such hatred that I couldn't help but shudder.

7

Black appeared again.

He stroked my pale face like a gentle husband caressing his wife.

"Do you hate me?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the woman on the third bed, who had kept silent all the time, ran towards Black and bit down on his wrist.

I was horrified.

Then I reacted. I also grabbed Black's ear and bit down like a madman, then ran wildly towards the door.

After realizing what happened, Black suddenly grabbed the woman’s hair and threw her to the ground. He stomped frantically on her with the hard soles of his shoes.

The woman who had never spoken and never resisted before showed such bravery at this moment that amazed me. Black couldn't think of a better way to deal with her for a while, but Cici suddenly rushed over and grabbed her hand, dragging her to the side.

Black caught up with me as soon as I came out of the door and kicked me in the back.

I hit the side of the door and fell to the floor, and I realized that the door couldn’t be open at all.

Cici controlled the woman and said, "I knew she wanted to escape a long time ago!"

Black remained silent, with a fierce look in his eyes.

He took off his belt and strangled the woman's slender and snow-white neck. I watched as the woman's eyes became bloodshot in front of me. Her breath weakened, and finally, her eyes closed, dying in front of me.

I stared at Cici with tears streaming down my face.

I didn’t hate Black, but there had never been a moment when I wanted to peel off Cici's skin and drink her blood as much as I did now.

I couldn’t die like this. But Black, who had one of its ears bitten off by me, dug his hand into my left eye socket.

I passed out, and when I woke up, I was moved to another place. I was no longer in the warm and magnificent Beauty Pavilion, but a dilapidated wooden house with drafts everywhere.

My head was wrapped in gauze, and my left eye was in excruciating pain.

Sitting beside me was a burly man with a bronze complexion, and short hair, and the muscles on his back made my heart tremble.

I didn't expect to see Bob Blake here.

He had been in prison. I had interviewed him in prison when I wanted to write a book about prison.

At that time, he was in a very irritable period. I talked to him about many life ideals and even proposed to him to build a house on an island and live a semi-secluded life by the sea.

I didn't expect that he not only listened but also did it.

He said calmly, "Awake? It's time to take medicine."

He handed me a few white pills.

I dared not take them, but he gently said, "Don't worry. These are anti-inflammatory drugs."

I struggled to sit up but realized I had no clothes on. My body was covered by a quilt, emitting a mixed smell of laundry detergent and seawater.

"They gave you to me." He kept a certain distance from me, not saying the word ‘sold’ in order not to hurt my self-esteem.

I suddenly felt a sense of security. He just glanced at me and then turned his head. "Black is called Carter Blake. He is my brother."

I was shocked.

8

He seemed to sense my worries and fears.

"Please let me go. I'm willing to do anything for you!" I struggled to sit up, deliberately showing my perfect figure to him.

My body, which I was proud of, now became the condition for my escape.

However, Bob just glanced at me and turned his head, saying, "You can't escape. All the ships here are under my brother's control, and I can't use them."

He reached out and covered my quilt, "Don’t get a cold."

I saw Bob on his left hand.

I didn't want to call him full name because of his surname Blake, but called him Bob and he liked me calling him that.

With his care, I quickly recovered, but I had only one eye remaining.

I looked in the mirror, and the hole in my face almost made me collapse. I wanted to commit suicide again and again, but Bob stopped me.

"Only by being alive can you seek revenge."

He comforted me like this, and I asked him back, "You are all together. Why did you save me?"

"I didn’t save you. I bought you."

I realized at that point that I was a toy, a commodity valued at a few thousand dollars.