I blink back to reality, the memory slipping away… but the pain I feel is beyond imagination.
I’m still sitting on the floor.
My body feels like it’s been trampled on by a crowd.
I lift my hand to touch my cheek, but I retract it immediately. It still burns.
My fingers find my ring again.
And I just don’t understand… what did I do wrong?
Maybe speaking to clients on the phone is wrong. Maybe they should just send emails instead… right?
Does he still love me?
Of course he does… he has to.
No.
This feels wrong.
What’s happening to me?
“Don’t embarrass me.”
His voice echoes in my head.
My heart starts beating fast, and I feel the panic rising in my chest—but I push it down. I force it down.
I have to get ready.
The mirror doesn’t lie.
My eyes are red and swollen from crying. Smudged mascara stains my face.
A face that doesn’t look like mine anymore.
And then I notice something else.
My eyes.
They look… empty.
No longing. No happiness. No hope.
Just emptiness.
I’ve lost myself.
I step into the steaming hot shower and scrub my skin harshly, over and over, like I can wash away the pain… like I can wash away the broken parts of me.
When I step out, I pick out an elegant outfit—perfect, flawless.
I stand in front of the mirror again and reach for my makeup.
Because tonight…
I have to pretend.
It takes me hours to prepare. My body protests with every movement, aching, heavy—but I ignore it.
I’m finally done when I hear Dante’s footsteps approaching our room.
My heart drops.
He walks in and looks at me from head to toe, his gaze slow, cold.
Then he smirks.
“Mm… you look sexy, Amelia.”
He pulls me toward him, his hands firm as he leans in, brushing his lips lightly against my neck.
“Later, okay, wife?”
I nod.
But inside, my heart screams.
I know exactly what that means.
“Now, my guests are here. Behave… or you won’t like what I’ll do to you. Got it?”
His voice turns cold again.
I nod once more.
“Good,” he says. “Now let’s go.”
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