The Husband Who Regretted Too Late

"Ms. Mariner, you have been battling this illness for five years. Without immediate hospitalization, the consequences will be catastrophic." "How long before the memory loss begins?" Selena Mariner's face remained eerily calm. After a brief pause, she asked with a faint smile. Quentin Kane's expression darkened with pity. Swallowing hard, he delivered the brutal truth. "Your Alzheimer's disease has reached its terminal stage. Within two weeks, you will start forgetting. You might even wake up unable to recognize your own family. Time is up. Here is your medication. It's just enough for fifteen days." She accepted the diagnosis without flinching, as if she had long accepted this fate. She nodded curtly, then turned on her heel. Quentin stared at her retreating back, his face a storm of confusion. How could anyone face death so casually? Like mortality was just another Tuesday. Outside the hospital, her phone buzzed with Austin Nash's summons. She had barely paused at his office door when an iron grip hauled her inside. Her back hit the wall with a thud as his breath burned her neck like a branding iron. "Serve me. Now. Do your damn job as a wife." His gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine as rough fingers slipped under her blouse, tracing familiar paths. Selena sucked in a sharp breath. She clenched her fists, then barely whispered, "Just my hands?" Austin went rigid. A jagged laugh escaped him, rage lighting his eyes like a struck match. "What, am I too filthy for Ms. Mariner's delicate touch now?" He smashed his mouth onto hers in a violent kiss that tasted of copper and conquest. No tenderness existed here. There was only the slick, violent noise of teeth clashing and the metallic tang of blood. When he finally pulled away, his snarl sent her reeling. "Go wait outside. My guest is arriving." She stepped out, hollow-eyed, as if her strings had been cut. She mechanically smoothed her ruined collar. Another dewy college girl arrived, all giggles and youth. She skipped into the lounge without a care. Within moments, the room filled with breathless moans and the bedframe's relentless, mocking squeal. Selena slid down the wall, drenched in cold sweat. That familiar ache twisted in her chest. Half a year. A new girl every single day. She had personally ushered in over one hundred and eighty of them, delivering fresh women to her husband's bed. All while playing the role of Mrs. Nash. His glorified gatekeeper. The office erupted in cruel laughter, voices tangling like vipers. "How noble of Mrs. Nash! Other CEOs' wives bring their husbands fine whiskey and Patek Philippe. Hers gets a fresh young woman every evening. Now that is wifely dedication." "Please. Mrs. Nash is a joke. She's not even his bed warmer. She's just a leashed pet." "Only Austin could pull this off. Marry a door mat while keeping a stable of college girls. The man's a legend." Selena stood motionless. Her bony fingers dug into her palms until blood welled. The metallic tang mixed with the office's sterile air. She barely noticed. Six months of marriage. Six months as Austin's legal wife while he slept with a never-ending stream of women. Their marital bed, overshadowed by their floor-to-ceiling wedding portrait, hosted a different girl nightly. No repeats, no shame. Just a new face every time. They had tainted every inch of the estate. The hallways. The garden swings. Even the rooftop. Once, drunk on power, he had smirked and asked if she felt left out. For six months of sleepless nights, escape had been her only thought. Now, finally, the nightmare would end.