Divorced But Obsessed

Stranger in My Bed

I thought waking up would fix everything. I was wrong.

“Welcome home, Dylan,” I said softly as he stepped into the grand foyer of the mansion. My hands trembled at my sides. I wanted to reach for him, but the look on his face stopped me cold. “The staff prepared your favorite suite. I can show you if you want. Or I can get you something to eat. You must be exhausted after the hospital.”

He ignored me completely and walked past like I was part of the furniture. His shoulders were tense under the expensive jacket. “I don’t need your help. This is my house. Not yours.”

I followed him anyway, my heart pounding. “It is my house too. According to the contract. I’ve lived here for four years taking care of things while you were gone. Please, let me explain properly. The lawyers are waiting in the living room.”

Dylan stopped abruptly and turned around. His gray eyes burned with anger. “The contract. Right. That’s all this is, isn’t it? Some piece of paper that let you worm your way into my life and my money.”

“That’s not fair,” I shot back, my voice shaking but steady. “You don’t remember anything. You weren’t here. Your family was falling apart. The board was going to rip the company to pieces. Your mother came to me begging for help. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just bitterness. “Begging? Or did you see an opportunity and jump on it? Four years of playing the perfect little wife while I was unconscious. Must have been nice living in luxury on my dime.”

I flinched but refused to back down. We entered the living room where two lawyers stood waiting with folders. “Mr. Hart,” the older lawyer began carefully. “The marriage was legally arranged to protect your interests. Mrs. Hart has fulfilled every term. She has been nothing but devoted.”

“Devoted?” Dylan snapped, snatching the papers from the lawyer’s hand. “Or just smart? Tell me, Ivy. How much did you get out of this deal? Monthly allowance? Credit cards? Jewelry? Did you enjoy playing rich while I was basically dead?”

I felt the words like physical blows. My eyes stung but I lifted my chin. “I never touched your money for myself. I used it to pay for your medical care. To keep your mother’s house from foreclosure. To help my own sister with her tuition. Everything I did was to keep your world from collapsing. You can check the accounts. It’s all there.”

One lawyer cleared his throat. “She’s telling the truth, sir. Mrs. Hart has been extremely frugal. She even sold some of her own possessions when funds ran low.”

Dylan tossed the papers onto the coffee table. “Convenient story. I wake up and suddenly I’m married to a woman I don’t remember. A woman who probably prayed I never woke up so she could keep living like a queen.”

“That’s not true!” I stepped closer, my voice rising. “I prayed for you every single night. I sat by your bed and told you about my day. I played the piano pieces you used to love. I fought the doctors when they wanted to pull the plug. I gave up my entire life for you, Dylan. And now you look at me like I’m some kind of thief?”

He moved toward me, closing the distance between us. The air grew thick. I could smell his cologne, feel the heat coming off his body. “Maybe you are. Maybe this whole marriage is a scam. Tell me honestly. Did you ever really care? Or was it all about the Hart name and the bank account?”

I stared up at him, breathing hard. “I cared. I still care. Even when you treat me like dirt. Even when you look at me with disgust. I fell in love with the man I got to know through stories and pictures and the little things you mumbled in your sleep. I know you, Dylan. Even if you don’t know me anymore.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Something raw and conflicted. His gaze dropped to my lips for just a moment. The silence stretched between us, heavy and dangerous.

“You don’t know me,” he said quietly, but his voice had changed. Deeper. Rougher. “You know nothing.”

“I know enough,” I whispered. My heart raced as he stepped even closer. Our bodies were almost touching. I could see the pulse beating in his neck. “I know you’re scared right now. I know you’re angry at the world for stealing four years from you. And I know that deep down, some part of you feels this pull too. The same one I feel every time you look at me.”

He grabbed my wrist suddenly, his fingers wrapping around it firmly but not painfully. His touch sent electricity shooting up my arm. “Stay out of my sight,” he growled, eyes dark with a mix of fury and something hotter. “Or I’ll make you regret ever walking into my life.”

I didn’t pull away. I held his gaze even as my pulse hammered under his fingers. “You can push me away all you want, Dylan. But I’m not going anywhere. This marriage might have started as a contract, but my feelings are real. And one day you’re going to see that.”

He released my wrist like it burned him, but he didn’t step back. We stood there breathing the same air, the tension crackling like a live wire between us. His eyes searched my face, angry and confused and hungry all at once.

“Get out of this room,” he said finally, voice low and threatening. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

I turned slowly, my wrist still tingling from his touch. My legs felt weak as I walked toward the door, but I paused at the threshold and looked back at him one last time.

“I’m not your enemy, Dylan. I’m your wife. Whether you want to believe it or not.”

His silence followed me out of the room. Heavy. Loaded. Full of everything we weren’t saying.

I pressed my back against the wall in the hallway, trying to catch my breath. My heart wouldn’t slow down. The way he had looked at me in those final seconds. The way his fingers had gripped my wrist. It wasn’t just anger.

There was desire there too. Dark and unwilling, but real.

And that terrified me more than his cruel words ever could.

Because if Dylan Hart started wanting me, even a little bit, I wasn’t sure either of us would survive what came next.