It was right after my family went bankrupt. I saw the group chat on my husband’s phone: [She runs a credit check on my location every day, demands I be home by nine—must be home—no alcohol or smoke smell on me, sets a million ridiculous rules. She treats me like a dog on a leash!] [Now that her family’s lost everything, if she tries to control me or boss me around one more time, I’m filing for divorce!] When I didn't dare to act out, when I stopped controlling him, and stopped giving him orders, my husband actually pinned me down on the bed, looking utterly wronged. “Why aren’t you checking up on me?” “Why aren’t you giving me orders?” “Did you get a different dog?” 1 Damon Hawthorne walked in the door at nine-oh-one. He was about to step inside when I blocked his way, my arms crossed. “Do you know what time it is?” Damon frowned, a familiar flicker of impatience in his eyes, and glanced down at his watch. “Traffic was backed up, Sloane. I’m one minute late. Isn’t that a bit much?” I scoffed. “You dare to be one minute late today, tomorrow you’ll be ten minutes late, and after that, you’ll start sleeping out all night, won’t you?!” He looked speechless, holding back a retort. After a few tense seconds, he sighed and apologized. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Can I please come in now?” My temper flared up fast, but it always settled just as quickly. “Fine. I’ll let it slide this time. But if you’re late again, you can forget about setting foot in this house!” Just then, my dad called. “Sloane, I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?” I rolled my eyes. “Dad, are you serious with the dramatics? Fine. I’ll take the good news.” My father paused, the silence stretching uncomfortably. “Let’s stick to the bad news first. We’re ruined. The company is gone.” I froze, the air knocked out of me. “The good news is we managed to stash a little cash. Your mother, your brother, and I are using it to move overseas. You stay put and build a good life with Damon. He won’t let you down.” “We’ll call you once we’re settled abroad.” And with that, he hung up, leaving me in a state of absolute chaos. Damon emerged from the bathroom, carrying my electric foot spa filled with hot, scented water. He set it down in front of me, knelt, and skillfully removed my socks, easing my feet into the warmth. The soothing heat brought me slowly back to earth. Damon looked up at me, his eyes searching mine. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I looked back at him, the words tasting like ash. “My family is bankrupt.” Damon seemed unfazed, almost calm. “Your dad’s company has been on the ropes for a while. I put some money in to help him, but the hole was too deep. There was no way to save it.” I couldn’t process it. I stood up, pulled my feet out of the water, and walked straight to the bedroom. 2 I couldn’t sleep. I woke up around 3 AM. Damon was next to me, already asleep, his silk eye mask pulled down over his face. But the screen of his phone on the nightstand flashed. I was wide awake now. I quietly picked up the device. I had forced him to set the password to my birthday, a tiny, petty requirement to make sure he never forgot it. I typed in the numbers and opened the messaging app. The notification was from his group chat with his friends. [Our D-Man finally grew a spine!] I frowned and scrolled up, my heart starting to pound. [I’m so furious!] [I was one minute late coming home today, and she locked me out until I apologized!] [Now that her family’s lost everything, if she tries to control me or boss me around one more time, I’m filing for divorce!] His friends chimed in: [Use this opportunity to fix the Princess’s temper, D-Man. Get your old self back. Prove you’re not whipped.] [Our Hawthorne is a big shot outside, a CEO, and then at home, he’s treated like a servant! She’s running his face in the dirt!] [Once D-Man tames his wife, we can finally get back to those all-nighters, drinking until sunrise.] [Agreed.] [Agreed, plus one.] [....] My hand trembled, but I kept scrolling, tracing back months of conversations. [She’s completely out of line! She actually makes me wash her feet! Treats me like I’m a personal valet!] [When she’s on her period, I’m her punching bag! I just shifted on the sofa next to her and she threw a pillow at me, shouting I was distracting her. I move far away and don’t dare to breathe, and she calls me heartless for not caring. I swear, breathing is a mistake now!] [She doesn’t treat me like a person…] I closed his phone, placing it back on the nightstand, unable to catch my breath. So much resentment. Damon hated me this much. He must despise me and desperately want a divorce. I have nothing now. My parents and brother are gone, and their phones are already unreachable. If he leaves me, what will I do? 3 Damon and I were brought together by a corporate merger—an arranged marriage, pure and simple. Damon had a college sweetheart, a fragile little thing. Their relationship was cut short almost immediately by his mother, who paid the girl a million dollars to disappear overseas. After that, he didn’t date seriously until he took over the company and was pressured into marrying me. He seemed deeply reluctant. I assumed he couldn't get over the one that got away. I didn’t care. Out of all the suitable heirs in The City, Damon was the best option. He was gorgeous, built like a Greek statue, capable in business, and he was clean—no tacky side-pieces, no scandals. We met once before the wedding, then rushed into the marriage and moved in together. He worked constantly and came home late. Very late. It cut into my beauty sleep. And most of the time, he reeked of alcohol. I hate the smell of alcohol. I never tolerate discomfort. So, I laid down the law: He had to be home by 9 PM. And he couldn’t smell like booze or cigarettes. At first, Damon ignored it. He kept coming home late, smelling like a distillery. Furious, I changed the locks on the front door. He knocked for what felt like an hour before I finally opened it, cold as ice. “Try being late again, or let me smell booze on you, and you won’t get back in.” He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. After that, though, he was home every night before nine, clean as a whistle. I began to use him more and more. If I wanted seafood, I only ate the shrimp and crab he’d painstakingly peeled for me. I demanded the foot spa ritual, and he had to bring it to me. The water temperature had to be exactly right; too hot or too cold, and he had to dump it and start over until I approved. When I was in a bad mood during my period, he was the only acceptable target for my fury. My mother had treated my father the exact same way, so I never saw anything wrong with it. But things were different now. Drastically different. I had to change immediately. I couldn’t give Damon any more reasons to despise me. 4 I planned to get up early and make Damon breakfast. But I couldn't drag myself out of bed. Instead, I woke him up with my groaning. Out of habit, I stretched my foot out. He automatically reached for my sock to put it on. Halfway through, I snapped to attention. Wrong! I couldn’t order him around anymore! I sat bolt upright. I snatched the sock from his hand, forcing a sickly sweet, high-pitched voice. “Honey, I can do it myself.” I’d never called Damon “Honey.” The word left my mouth and made me wince. I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable. A flash of pure bewilderment crossed Damon’s eyes. He stared for a few seconds, then simply got out of bed and left the room. When I finished my bathroom routine and walked into the kitchen, a perfect, gourmet breakfast was waiting on the island. He set a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of me, then dressed quickly, preparing to leave for the office. Before walking out, he walked toward me, a sour look on his face, intending to kiss me. It was another one of my rules: He had to kiss me before leaving. He always obeyed, but he always looked like he’d just been asked to kiss a toad. Now, I couldn’t force him. I pushed him gently away. “You don’t have to force yourself to kiss me, Honey. Go on, you’re going to be late for work.” He stared at me, his expression clearly saying, Let me guess. What’s the catch this time? I urged him to leave again, and only then did he turn. But just as he reached the front door, he spun around and strode back to me. He reached out, cupped my jaw, and kissed me fiercely, aggressively, until I was breathless. He pulled back, wiping his mouth, a look of utter annoyance on his face. “Can you stop playing these little games?” “Playing coy doesn’t suit you.” ??? I was completely lost. Playing coy? What game was I playing? 5 That evening, Damon called me. “I’m meeting some friends tonight. I’ll be back before nine, though.” I rushed to reassure him. “No, no, you don’t have to! You play for as long as you want. It’s totally fine if you don’t come home!” There was a long silence on the other end, and then he hung up. I was being so understanding. Surely, he didn’t hate me now. I didn’t ask the housekeeper to prepare dinner. Instead, I ordered a huge takeout feast—fried chicken and soda. I usually allowed myself one cheat meal a month to keep my figure. I was settled on the sofa, watching a trashy reality show. I heard footsteps outside the door. I thought it was the delivery guy, so I ran to open the door, barefoot. Damon looked at my bare feet, frowned, picked me up, and placed me back on the sofa. He gave me a look of disdain. “Do you really have to be this excited to see me?” I… I glanced at the time. It was only 8 PM. I was confused. “Why are you home so early?” “I thought you were meeting your friends?” He snorted. “Don’t pretend I couldn’t hear the passive-aggression in your voice on the phone.” “What you meant was, ‘I don’t want you to go.’” I was not being passive-aggressive! He didn’t wait for my explanation. He took off his suit jacket, walked to the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, and started cooking. As I sat on the sofa, Damon’s phone flashed again. The kitchen was out of sight of the living room. I quietly picked up the phone. The message was, predictably, from his friend group. Damon: [She’s pissed. We’ll have to cancel tonight.] His friends: [She’s still acting like that, even after her family went bankrupt?!] [D-Man, what happened? Can you please show some backbone?] Damon: [This is the last time I indulge her, for old times’ sake. Next time she pulls this, I’m getting a divorce!] His friends: [......] [You better mean it.] I nearly blacked out. Wait, what? I was the one who was pissed? 6 Damon’s birthday party was held at his sprawling estate outside the city. Almost every important figure in The City was there. Halfway through the party, a security guard came in and approached me. “Mrs. Hawthorne, there’s a young woman outside who claims to know Mr. Hawthorne, but she doesn’t have an invitation. Should we let her in?” I thought for a moment, then followed the guard out. I recognized the girl immediately: Lily Stone, Damon’s college sweetheart. Lily saw me and looked up, all wide-eyed fragility. “I just wanted to see him for a minute.” In the past, I would have dismissed her without a second thought. I had my family’s empire backing me, giving me the confidence to stand my ground. But now, that was gone. Damon didn’t love me, and he could divorce me at any moment. I didn't dare let her in. What if Damon still carried a torch for her? What if they rekindled their old flame? The guard looked at me for instruction. I shook my head, then turned and walked back into the party. After a few glasses of champagne, my head felt foggy, so I went upstairs to the private lounge for a rest. When I came back down, I saw Lily had somehow gotten inside. She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, chatting with Damon. 7 They stood by the window, him handsome, her delicate—a perfect, picture-book couple. Lily must have said something funny because a soft, almost tender smile touched Damon’s lips. It was a look I had never seen him direct at me. An invisible hand gripped my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. I took a deep, steadying breath. Calm down, Sloane. You’re not the spoiled Miss Harrington who can throw tantrums anymore. You have to be sweet, generous, and play the part of the perfect wife. I picked up a glass of red wine and walked toward them, my heels clicking deliberately on the marble floor. “Honey,” I said, my voice sweet to the point of nausea, as I naturally looped my arm through Damon’s. “Is this a friend of yours? Why haven’t you introduced me?” Damon’s body went rigid. The smile vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of shock—like he’d just seen a ghost. He probably didn’t expect this reaction. Lily Stone’s face also shifted, but she quickly reverted to her damsel-in-distress persona. “Mrs. Hawthorne, please don’t misunderstand. I… I just haven’t seen Damon in a long time. I wanted to catch up.” “Catch up?” I smiled brighter. “Perfect! I’ll have someone find you a place to sit so we can chat. But, Honey, you’re the star of the show tonight. You can’t spend the whole night with just one guest; you’ll neglect everyone else.” As I spoke, I used undeniable force to pull Damon away from her. The message of proprietorship couldn't have been clearer. Damon looked down at me, his eyes as complex as an algebraic equation. There was surprise, curiosity, and a strange hint of… excitement? It must be the alcohol. A delusion. I steered him toward a cluster of business partners and then headed to the buffet area. I had just picked up a plate when I saw Lily walking toward me, a look of contrite apology on her face. “Mrs. Hawthorne, I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you didn’t like that… I just missed him.” I picked up a petite tiramisu, speaking airily. “It’s fine. Friends catching up is perfectly normal.” “Good,” she sighed with relief. “Actually, Damon and I, in college…” Ah, the classic opening. I saw it coming a mile away. I cut her off. “Miss Stone, this petit four is amazing. You should try it.” She blinked, clearly thrown off by my refusal to engage. “Mrs. Haw—I mean, Sloane, I…” “Oh, dear!” My hand suddenly “slipped.” The entire glass of red wine flew out of my grasp and landed squarely on her pristine, white cocktail dress. The crimson liquid bloomed rapidly on the white fabric, looking like a grotesque, beautiful wound. “I am so sorry, Miss Stone,” I gasped, wide-eyed and innocent. “I must have had one too many. My hand just gave out.” Lily’s face turned green, but with so many prominent guests around, she had to grit her teeth and say, “It’s… it’s fine.” “How can it be fine? Such a gorgeous dress, and I ruined it.” I pulled out a napkin, attempting to “help,” only succeeding in smearing the wine deeper into the fabric. Damon heard the commotion and strode over. He saw Lily’s ruined dress and his brow furrowed fiercely. Lily’s eyes welled up instantly. She looked at him, the silent message clear: See? She’s bullying me. My heart tightened. Was he going to defend her? If he dared to humiliate me in front of all these people, I would… I would cry until he regretted it! Instead, Damon simply grabbed my wrist, pulled me aside, and lowered his voice. It was a strange mix of anger and amusement. “Did you do that on purpose?” “Honey, what are you talking about?” I immediately switched to my most fragile, wounded voice, leaning against him. “My head is spinning. I think I really did drink too much…” He looked down at me, his expression a complicated mix of exasperation and a flicker of… endearment? I was definitely too drunk. He sighed, completely ignoring the petrified Lily Stone, and half-carried, half-guided me upstairs. “Are you done with your little scene? I’m taking you to rest.” As we passed his cluster of friends, I clearly heard their sharp intakes of breath. [Holy crap, D-Man just got tamed by his wife? The ex is right there!] [This isn’t fixing her temper; this is throwing his own face on the floor for her to stomp on!] He took me into the lounge and dropped me onto the plush king-sized bed. “Sloane Harrington, what is your endgame here?” He stood over me, his expression thunderous. I decided to double down on my “sweet and weary wife” act. “My endgame? Nothing. I’m tired. I want to sleep.” I rolled over, presenting my back to him, letting my hair convey my innocence. The room was silent for a long time. I could feel his eyes on my back, tracing me like a searchlight. The old me would have leaped up, yelling at him for taking the other woman’s side. But my silence was a new, unexpected weapon. Slam! The door was forcefully shut. He was gone. Good. He was angry. But somehow, not that angry. I slowly climbed off the bed and tiptoed to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. Silence. I pulled out my phone. I hesitated, then unlocked the one in my hand. I had “accidentally” slipped Damon’s phone from his suit pocket when he was carrying me upstairs. I truly was a genius. The group chat was, predictably, on fire. Brother A: [D-Man, what the hell? The ex shows up, and your wife doesn’t make a scene? She just… let it go?] Brother B: [Let it go? Did you not see the red wine “mishap,” bro? That was surgical. High-level play!] Damon: [She’s changed.] Three words. I could practically see him scowling as he typed them. Brother C: [Changed for the better? Maybe she realized she needs to dial it back.] Damon: [Better my ass! She threw wine on Lily, but she won’t admit it, and she won’t fight me. She never used to do that.] Damon: [When she used to get mad, at least I knew she cared. Now, she’s quiet and compliant, and I have no idea what’s going on.] Damon: [She doesn’t love me, does she? She only married me for the merger, and now that my family is bankrupt, she’s planning to leave me. She’s being nice now so we can have a clean break!] I squinted at the screen. “???” My brain froze for three seconds. What kind of absurd, twisted logic was this man operating on? I was scrambling to save our marriage, and he thought I was preparing for divorce? What in the actual hell was going on?!
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