So tell me… Was all of that fake? Was I just… stupid?

I didn’t even realize I had already gotten into a taxi.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.

I hesitated for half a second.

Then I said it.

“Sun Valley.”

The place where Felix kept Shannon. My hands clenched in my lap.

If she was his wife… Then who the hell was I?

I heard faint sobbing coming from the garden and my legs moved before my brain could catch up. I stepped closer, ducking under the drooping wisteria, and froze.

Felix. My husband. Dressed in a suit, looking untouchable, a predator in every sense. He held a soft leather whip, striking Shannon over and over. She was tied to the antique chaise lounge I had spent weeks choosing for our villa, completely naked.

And then, just like that, he dropped the whip, leaned over her, and kissed her. Hard. Dominant. His hands everywhere, his sweat slick on his back.

My stomach turned over. My chest felt ripped open, bleeding in ways I didn’t even know were possible.

It wasn’t sobbing I’d heard. It was her moans. Pleasure. Laughter whispered through her gasps. The so-called “punishment” I’d imagined wasn’t torture. It was… love. Their love. The prison he’d spoken of all those times wasn’t a cell. It was their playroom. Their nest.

I stumbled backward, staring at the chaise lounge I had painstakingly picked out for him, imagining him sitting there with me, hands blistered from carrying the weight of my life in his hands. He’d said once, soft but with fire, “Danica deserves all the beauty in the world. This lounge is yours alone. And so is my love.”

Now it wasn’t mine. Not mine at all.

My hands clenched until they bled, pain ripping through me. Why? Why the hell would he do this?

And then I started listening.

“Honey, you’re amazing. I’m so happy,” Shannon said, her face flushed and glowing. “Just thinking about how I finally married you makes me feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You deserve it,” Felix said, calm, almost casual, sliding on his shirt like the chaos behind him didn’t exist. His voice was velvet with steel.

I froze at what he said next.

“Four years ago, all I wanted was for Danica to stay here, to be with me forever. And you,” he hissed, “you took an axe and chopped off her hand so she could never chase her dreams again. Then you turn yourself in like some idiot martyr, thinking even if you rot in jail, my happiness matters more than yours.”