Between duty and desire

The choice

The photograph lay between us like a poisoned fruit.

Every time my eyes strayed to it, I saw my own face—flushed, lips parted against Liam’s. I had tried to bury that memory beneath layers of guilt and silence, but here it was, captured forever in Marco’s cruel hands.

“What do you want?” My voice came out small, hoarse, but steady enough to keep me upright.

Marco leaned back, steepling his fingers. His smirk never faltered. “Finally. The right question.”

Beside me, Liam bristled. “This is extortion.”

“This,” Marco said silkily, “is survival. And I’m giving your lovely Mrs. Romano here a chance to survive.”

I stiffened at the deliberate use of my married name. It sounded like shackles clinking against the floor.

Marco’s gaze sharpened. “I don’t want your money, Clara. Not yet. Money comes and goes. What I want is… access.”

My stomach lurched. “Access?”

“You’re Jonathan’s wife. That name opens doors. Invitations. Trust.” Marco’s voice dripped with admiration, but his eyes were ruthless. “Do you know how many rooms you could walk into simply by being who you are? How many conversations you overhear while sipping champagne in your husband’s absence?”

Cold sweat prickled my spine.

“You want me to spy on him,” I whispered.

Marco’s smile widened, slow and satisfied. “Such an ugly word. I prefer… cooperation. You’ll tell me when Jonathan is vulnerable. Who he meets. Which deals matter. And in return…” His finger tapped the photo. “This stays between us.”

Liam’s voice cut through, low and furious. “You’re insane. Clara isn’t doing this.”

Marco didn’t even look at him. “Oh, the loyal puppy speaks. But this isn’t your decision, is it? Jonathan doesn’t care enough to keep his wife at his side. And yet you care too much. Both of you are exactly where I want you.”

I wanted to deny it, to summon strength from some hidden place. But inside, I felt like glass splintering under pressure.

My parents’ voices echoed in my head—their pride the day Jonathan’s proposal was accepted, their constant reminders that I was fortunate to be chosen. Fortunate, even when the marriage hollowed me out. Even when I swallowed pills in secret, desperate to give Jonathan the child his mother demanded.

“Duty above all,” my father had always said. “Your marriage is bigger than you, Clara.”

But what if that duty destroyed me?

Marco’s hand slid the photograph closer. “Tick-tock. You don’t have long. At any moment, I could forward this to your dear mother-in-law. I imagine she’d host quite the celebration, don’t you think?”

The thought of Mrs. Romano’s cold satisfaction made my throat close. She already suspected weakness in me; this would confirm it.

Liam slammed a fist onto the desk. “Delete the picture!”

Marco’s eyes flicked to him, amused. “Or what? You’ll hit me? Ruin your career before it even begins?” He leaned forward, voice like a blade. “Men like you, Liam, are disposable. Men like Jonathan are not. And women like Clara…” His gaze pinned me, hard and unrelenting. “Women like her are bargaining chips.”

The word sliced into me.

I stood abruptly, the chair legs screeching against the polished floor. My breath came too fast, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “I need time.”

Marco’s smirk faltered, just slightly. Then it returned, sharper than ever. “Of course you do. But not much. I’ll give you until wednesday . Either you walk back through this door ready to prove your loyalty to me… or this photograph finds its way into Mrs. Romano’s inbox.”

My body went cold. Friday. Just how many days?

Three!!!

“Tick-tock, Clara,” Marco murmured. “The clock is already running.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Liam’s hand brushed mine, grounding me, urging me toward the door.

But before I stepped out, Marco’s voice followed, soft and cruel:

“You should thank me. I’m giving you a chance to matter in a marriage where you never did.”

The door shut behind us, but his words stayed lodged in my chest like shards of glass.