Chapter 3

I had run out of ways to make Sebastian believe me.

In the end, I dug out everything we'd kept from the years we'd been together. Old photographs. The letters we'd written to each other. Every gift and keepsake that carried a memory only the two of us understood.

Sebastian burned them all.

One by one.

Eventually, desperation stripped away what little dignity I had left.

One night, I put on lingerie and waited for him in our bedroom, hoping I could make my own husband stay with me for just one night.

Sebastian stopped when he saw me.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he walked toward me.

My heart leaped foolishly.

Just as I thought he was going to kiss me, his fingers closed around my chin.

A cruel smile touched his lips.

"Joy, have you really fallen this low?"

I went still.

His gaze swept over me with open contempt.

"Too bad I have standards."

He released me.

"I don't touch dirty things."

The next night, Sebastian took Narelle to a private charity auction hosted by one of the Five Families.

I was brought to the venue halfway through the evening.

The moment I stepped inside, I froze.

A photograph of me filled the enormous screen at the front of the ballroom.

Then another appeared.

And another.

They were private photos I'd taken for Sebastian years ago, meant for his eyes alone.

Now they had been printed, framed, and put up for auction in front of New York's most powerful Mafia families.

Sebastian sat in the center of the room with Narelle beside him.

When he saw the blood drain from my face, his mouth curved into a vicious smile.

"Do you like it, wife?"

He lifted his glass toward me.

"Happy first anniversary."

Laughter swept through the ballroom.

Men stared openly at the photographs, their gazes making my skin crawl.

Narelle leaned against Sebastian, practically melting into his arms as she laughed.

"With my sister's reputation, Sebastian, I have to admit, this gift suits her perfectly."

She looked at me with feigned sympathy.

"Though you haven't touched her once since you and I got together, have you? With her kind of appetite, no wonder she's desperate enough to throw herself at you."

Then she traced a finger down Sebastian's chest.

"I'm not selfish. She's still technically your wife. Maybe you should satisfy her once in a while."

Her smile deepened.

"After all, you wear me out every night. I can barely keep up with you."

Sebastian looked at me.

Once, I would have given anything to see desire in those eyes again.

Now there was only disgust.

"Touch her?"

His mouth twisted.

"I'd rather not catch something."

Then he turned to Narelle and brushed his nose against hers.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You're the only woman I want."

His voice softened.

"When the auction is over, I'll get you that bag you wanted."

I watched them wrapped around each other beneath the glittering chandeliers.

Something inside me finally died.

I closed my eyes.

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, but for the first time in three years, I didn't beg.

When I spoke, my voice was strangely calm.

"Sebastian."

He glanced at me.

"Let's get a divorce."

For a second, he said nothing.

Then he laughed.

"Divorce?"

Sebastian rose from his chair and walked toward me.

"Joy, what makes you think you have the right to ask me for one?"

He stopped in front of me, towering over me.

His thumb brushed away one of my tears with a tenderness so false it made my stomach turn.

"Did you forget what I told you?"

His voice dropped.

"I'm going to make you suffer for the rest of your life."

He glanced around the ballroom.

"And this?"

His smile was cold.

"This is only the beginning."

He leaned closer.

"As long as I refuse to sign the papers, you'll remain Mrs. Gilbert."

His eyes locked on mine.

"You'll never be free of me."

After that night, Sebastian moved Narelle into the Gilbert estate.

He didn't even bother hiding what he was doing anymore.

The living room.

The kitchen.

The bathroom.

Even the storage room.

No matter where I went in that house, there were traces of them.

By morning, I'd find used tissues and condom wrappers scattered across the floor, left where I couldn't possibly miss them.

I stopped sleeping.

Night after night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling until dawn.

Eventually, I started seeing doctors.

They prescribed antidepressants, and I took them exactly as instructed.

I thought I had already reached the bottom.

Then one afternoon, Narelle walked into my bedroom without knocking.

There was a tablet in her hand.

She looked at me for a long moment before laughing.

"Joy, after all these years, you're still this pathetic?"

I didn't answer.

She walked closer.

"Watching you drag yourself through this house like a dying dog every day is getting boring."

She sat down across from me and crossed her legs.

"So I've decided to be generous."

Her smile sharpened.

"At least I'll let you know the truth before you completely lose your mind."

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

"What truth?"

Narelle unlocked the tablet.

"You remember the night before your wedding, don't you?"

My heart stopped.

"The night you woke up in bed with Hubert Sanchez."

I stared at her.

Her smile widened.

"That was me."

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

Narelle turned the tablet toward me.

Surveillance footage began playing on the screen.

The image was painfully clear.

There was Narelle, standing beside my table.

There was my glass.

And there was her hand tipping white powder into my drink.