Chapter 1
Every time my husband, Damian, brought his secretary into our bedroom, he made me kneel by the bed and
wait.
If she didn’t know what to do, he’d make me teach her, guiding her hands with mine.
And after they were finished, I would dutifully approach with a tray, offering them drinks to soothe their thro-
ats.
Damian would grip my neck, his voice a low rasp. “Don’t you feel a single shred of jealousy?”
I would just shake my head, even offering to get them protection for next time.
His rage would boil over. He’d throw me onto the bed and take me again and again, but the next day, I would be right back on my knees beside their bed.
He’d snarl through clenched teeth, “Elara, you’re pathetic.”
I would only smile at him.
He didn’t know. He didn’t know that these were the last days I had left to spend with him.
I walked into the house to the familiar scene playing out on the living room sofa.
Sienna, the secretary, had her back to me. Hearing the door, she turned, a triumphant smirk playing on her red lips as she deliberately let out a moan.
Ignoring them, I tied on my apron and went into the kitchen. I chopped vegetables, the rhythmic thud of the knife on the board a countdown until they were finished, until it was my turn to go out and clean up after
them.
Sienna’s throat was always raw afterward. She required honey water to soothe it.
knelt silently, offering the glass to her with both hands, like a servant from a bygone era.
Damian lit a cigarette, his gaze flicking over me, his sharp brows furrowing in irritation.
CRASH!
Sienna’s hand went limp as she took the glass. Scalding honey water shattered on the floor, splashing all
over me.
‘Oh, dear! Elara, are you alright?” she cried, rushing to help me up. But as she grabbed my arm, her nails dug viciously into my flesh. I sucked in a sharp breath against the pain.
She leaned in close, her face a mask of false concern that Damian couldn’t see, a venomous threat glittering in her eyes. “You have to be more careful, Elara. If you don’t want to serve me, you could just say so. No
need to throw a tantrum.”
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I gritted my teeth, forcing a smile. “How could
With that, I gestured for her to return to the sofa while I knelt to clean up the mess. Shards of glass dug into my hands and knees, the sticky honey water making the tiny cuts sting and tremble. Yet I clenched my jaw, acting as if I felt nothing, even lifting Sienna’s foot to wipe a stray drop of honey water from her shoe.
“Get out,” Damian’s voice was cold as he tossed Sienna her clothes.
“Mr. Ashford?”
“You’re done here.”
Sienna pouted, shooting me a resentful glare before slipping into her dress, grabbing the designer handbag Damian had bought her, and leaving.
I remained on the floor, silent.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get up. My knees were bleeding, and every movement was agony.
“Still have nothing to say to me?” Damian’s voice was like ice.
I shook my head.
He gritted his teeth. “It’s just us here. I can personally guarantee this house isn’t bugged!”
“I really have nothing.”
Damian slammed his cigarette down. He lunged, one hand closing around my throat, the other shoving a photograph of a man in my face. “We both know he’s the killer. Why won’t you testify? What the hell are you
to him?”
I looked at the man in the photo and gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t know him.”
Then why are you protecting him?”
I met Damian’s furious gaze. “I’m not.”
He threw me to the floor and began to pace, a caged animal. “Was my sister not good enough to you?”
At the thought of Lily, my eyes stung. I shook my head. “She was the best friend I ever had.”
He seized my chin, forcing me to look at him. “And this is how you repay her? By letting the monster who
killed her walk free?”
I couldn’t speak.
He threw a crime scene photo in my face. The horrific image of my dearest friend, her body covered in wou- nds, hanging from a tree, tore a scream from my throat. I clamped my hands over my eyes, the nightmare seared into my mind.
“You can’t bear to look, can you?” he hissed, forcing my face up. “Then tell me what that bastard did! I swear,
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