Chapter 1
People always say rich men like to play dirty. But my husband never did.
Even in our most intimate moments, he was always tender. He never got rough, never suggested anything wild. He used to tell me, "I can't bear to hurt you."
Everyone envied me. They said I'd married the perfect man, wealthy, gentle, and attentive.
Until our second wedding anniversary. I flew across the country to surprise Gavin Baker at the hotel where he was staying on a business trip.
Before I could knock, I heard sounds coming from the bedroom.
The rustle of sheets and heavy breathing.
Then a sweet, flirtatious female voice giggled. "Baby, is your wife really that boring in bed?"
Gavin's voice was thick with desire. "Of course. She's like a dead fish. I don't even want to touch her. You're the only one who can actually turn me on."
The world froze around me. My blood ran cold.
So that was the truth. Everything I'd mistaken for tenderness was nothing more than disgust.
At that moment, my phone vibrated.
A notification popped up. My flight reservation to Paris had been confirmed.
Good. Because once I left for Paris, I wasn't coming back.
*****
Inside the room, their conversation continued.
"We're getting married soon. Does she know her marriage certificate is fake?"
"So what if she does?" Gavin scoffed. "A fake marriage isn't a big deal. Do you really think I'd trap myself in a real marriage for her?"
I tightened my coat around myself and fought desperately to keep the tears from falling.
I'd come all this way just to surprise him.
For the first time in my life, I'd stepped out of my comfort zone and worn delicate lace lingerie beneath my coat.
And now I found out that not only did Gavin disgust me... Our marriage wasn't even real.
The woman continued in a sugary voice, "What if she finds out the truth and tries to ruin our wedding?"
"Relax. I've already convinced her to take a vacation in Paris. She won't be anywhere near our wedding venue."
Back in my own hotel room, I leaned against the door and cried silently for what felt like hours.
Then my phone chimed. A message from Gavin.
Gavin: Sweetheart, did you get the flowers I sent? They're your favorite roses. I know it's awful that I can't be there for our anniversary, but work has been crazy. Please forgive your hardworking husband.
Before today, I probably would have felt bad for him. Now his words made me sick.
Busy with work? Was that what he called sleeping with another woman?
I didn't reply. Instead, I booked the earliest flight home.
The moment I stepped into the house, my eyes landed on the portrait hanging in the living room.
A portrait of Gavin. I had painted it myself.
It had won the prestigious Snowfin Gold Award, and countless media outlets had featured it. The critics called it "a man seen through the eyes of someone deeply in love".
The house was filled with paintings of him. Years of my life hanging on those walls.
One portrait still had a faint bloodstain on it. Back when Gavin's company was struggling, I'd sold painting after painting to help keep him afloat.
One wealthy businessman had demanded I drink with him before agreeing to buy my work. I drank until I vomited blood. Some of it splattered onto that painting.
Later, after Gavin rebuilt his empire, he bought the painting back. Then he made sure that businessman lost everything.
That night, he held me tightly and said, "You'll never have to suffer like that ever again."
How ironic. The person who hurt me the most had always been him.
At midnight, I was still sitting awake in bed.
The front door clicked open. Gavin was home.
"You're still awake?"
He climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around me. Burying his face in my neck, he took a deep breath.
"I worked nonstop just to get back home tonight. I finally finished everything."
Without waiting for my response, Gavin closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
And suddenly, I saw it all clearly. The affection and love had just been an act. He never cared how I felt.
I was the only fool trapped inside a beautiful lie, believing he truly loved me.
