**This chapter contains scenes of physical and verbal abuse that may be disturbing to some readers. Discretion is suggested.

Giselle

All the way home, I can’t stop thinking about that man’s words. Just imagining the possibility of us having to kiss someday sends a shiver down my spine.

When I arrive at that dreadful place I’m desperate to leave behind, I pay the driver and walk slowly toward the front door. But before I can press the doorbell, it swings open—and the last person I wanted to see steps out.

“Where were you?” Oliver demands, grabbing my arm and yanking me inside.

“I-I just went for a walk.”

“A walk? You left even after I told you not to. What kind of wife disobeys her husband?”

“It wasn’t anything bad—”

“Goddamn it! Don’t talk back,” he hisses, gripping my shoulders and shaking me so hard that, for the first time, I’m genuinely afraid he might hit me just to force the truth out of me.

“Are you cheating on me, Giselle?” he roars, pushing me hard against the door. A cry escapes my lips as the doorknob digs painfully into my right side.

“W-why would you think that?” I ask, tears beginning to fall.

“You really have to ask? I told you to stay in our room and wait for me, and you go out anyway—then you come back smelling like another man’s cologne!” he shouts again, slamming me even harder into the door. I close my eyes, knowing I’ve been caught.

“Oliver!!”

His father’s voice cuts through the air. “Settle this in your room. The staff doesn’t need to be hearing your business.”

When I open my eyes, I see some of the household staff listening in on our fight. And when my gaze meets Paulette’s—the woman I thought had already left—I realize she’s smiling smugly, clearly enjoying my humiliation at Oliver’s hands.

Before I can react, Oliver grabs my wrist with his massive hand and forces me to go upstairs with him.

“Y-you’re hurting me,” I whisper, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightens.

“Who did you screw?” he barks the moment he slams our bedroom door shut. “Tell me!!”

“N-no one! I just went to the beach, I swear. I only went for a walk,” I sob, wiping my eyes with my free hand. “The cologne you’re smelling is the cab driver’s. I swear, that’s all it is!”

“Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?” I blink, unable to believe what I just heard.

“Take them off. I won’t say it again.”

When I don’t move, Oliver storms over and yanks my jacket open with such force that I let out a frightened cry.

“I told you to undress. You didn’t listen—this is what you get,” he snaps, throwing my jacket to the floor and starting to unbutton my blouse.

“I-I’ll do it,” I plead, grabbing his hands to stop him from humiliating me further.

“Then do it. I’m waiting.”

Still crying, I unbutton my jeans and slide them down to my thighs. When he orders me to take them off completely, I do, then cross my arms over my torso, trying to shield myself from his gaze.

“Why are you covering up?”

“B-because I’m ashamed. You’re looking at me like I’m dirty… like I actually did something wrong,” I whisper through sobs.

“Oh, is that it? Or is it because you don’t want me to see the marks some other man left on you?”

Without warning, he grabs my wrists and pulls my arms apart, leaving me completely exposed.

“Does he know where to touch you to make you scream in pleasure?” he growls, letting go only to rip off my bra. “Does he know he has to kiss your breasts first, like this?”

He presses his mouth to my nipple, sucking gently—and far from feeling anything close to pleasure, all I want is for him to stop touching me. I try to push him away.

“P-please, Oliver…”

“Please what?” he growls, then bites down hard, making me scream in pain.

“Oliver!! Open the door!” Paulette’s voice shrieks from the other side, stopping him just as his hand reaches for my underwear. “Oliver?” she insists. And for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for my husband’s mistress.

“You’re mine until I say otherwise,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “No one is allowed to touch you. If I find out you’re cheating on me, I swear I’ll kill you—and him.”

Then he throws me onto the bed and storms out of the room, leaving me alone.

Afraid he might come back and finish what he started, I grab the bedsheets and wrap them around myself, still crying. I feel so utterly humiliated I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look anyone in this house in the eye again. They all must’ve heard what he was about to do, and no one tried to stop him—no one except Paulette. And maybe she only stepped in to prove she had some kind of control over him.

But either way, I’m thankful.

“What the hell were you thinking, Oliver?” I hear her scolding him, her voice rising with every word.