THE LAST GOODBYE

CHAPTER FOUR

The Perfect Wife

Three months into marriage and I had learned the rules.

Wake up before Jack. Make his coffee exactly right, two sugars, splash of cream. Have his suit ready, his breakfast perfect. Smile when he leaves for work. Clean the penthouse apartment until it sparkled. Answer his calls within three rings. Never leave the apartment without permission. Never talk to other men. Never question him. Never cry where he could see.

Be perfect. Be invisible. Be grateful.

Today I stood in our massive kitchen, preparing dinner for Jack's business partners. Sarah had taught me the menu during one of my etiquette classes. Beef Wellington, roasted vegetables, chocolate soufflé. Everything had to be flawless.

My hands moved automatically, chopping vegetables with mechanical precision. The bruise on my upper arm from two nights ago throbbed with each movement. Jack had gotten angry because dinner was cold. He had been late, stuck in traffic, but somehow that was my fault too.

The penthouse felt like a beautiful prison. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the city, but I was not allowed to leave without Jack's permission. He had taken my car keys the first week. My credit cards the second. Now I had nothing except what he gave me.

My phone rang. Jack's name flashed on the screen. I answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"What are you wearing tonight?" His voice was clipped, busy.

"The black dress you picked out last week."

"No. Wear the red one. David's wife will be there and she always dresses like she is trying too hard. I want you to look better than her."

"Okay. The red dress."

"And Rose? Do not embarrass me tonight. These people are important clients. Smile. Be charming. Do not talk too much but do not be boring either. Just be perfect."

Be perfect. As if that was simple. As if I knew what perfect meant anymore.

"I will make you proud," I said, the words automatic now.

"You better." He hung up without saying goodbye.

I looked at the clock. Two hours until guests arrived. I needed to finish cooking, change clothes, fix my hair and makeup. Everything had to be ready.

The apartment door suddenly opened. Jack was not supposed to be home for another hour. My heart jumped into my throat as he walked in, his face dark with anger.

"Jack? What are you—"

"I just got off the phone with my mother." He threw his briefcase on the couch. "She called me at work, Rose. At work. Do you know what she said?"

I searched my memory frantically. What had I done wrong? I had attended all of Sarah's classes. I had been polite at the last family dinner. What had I missed?

"I do not know. What did she say?"

"She said you cried during your etiquette lesson yesterday." Jack moved closer, backing me against the kitchen counter. "She said you embarrassed yourself in front of the other women in the class. She said you are making the Morrison name look weak."

The etiquette lesson. We had been practicing proper table settings and one of the other women had made a cruel comment about people who came from "unfortunate backgrounds." She had looked right at me when she said it. I had excused myself to the bathroom and let myself cry for just five minutes. Just five minutes of weakness.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to—"

"You did not mean to?" Jack grabbed my arm, the same arm with the existing bruise. Pain shot through me but I bit my lip to keep from crying out. "What part of this do you not understand? You represent me now. When you cry like a pathetic child, it makes me look bad. When you show weakness, people think I married someone inferior."

"I know. I am sorry. It will not happen again."

"You are right. It will not." He released my arm and stepped back. "Because you are not going to those classes anymore."

Relief and confusion mixed together. "I am not?"

"No. You are clearly not capable of handling them properly. From now on, you stay here. In this apartment. You do not go anywhere unless I am with you. Do you understand?"

The relief vanished, replaced by cold fear. He was cutting me off completely. No more classes meant no more seeing other people, even judgmental society women. It meant more isolation. More loneliness. More of these four walls closing in.

"But what about grocery shopping? Or—"

"I will have groceries delivered. You will give me a list and I will approve it." He loosened his tie, his anger cooling into something more calculated. "This is for your own good, Rose. You cannot handle the outside world. You are not strong enough. So I will protect you by keeping you safe here."

Safe. He made it sound like protection when it was really control.

"What if there is an emergency?"

"Then you call me. I will handle it." He checked his watch. "Now, guests arrive in two hours. Is everything ready?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Good. I am going to shower and change. Make sure the apartment is spotless. And Rose? Tonight you will be perfect. Smile. Laugh at their jokes. Make them think you are the happiest wife in New York. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

He walked toward the bedroom, then paused. "Oh, and I invited someone else tonight. A surprise guest. An old friend who just moved back to the city. I think you will remember him."

Something in his tone made my skin crawl. "Who?"

"You will see." His smile was cruel. "Consider it a test of how well you can control yourself."

He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me standing in the kitchen with my heart racing. Who was coming? Why did Jack sound so pleased about it?

I forced myself to focus on cooking. The beef Wellington needed to go in the oven soon. The vegetables needed seasoning. The soufflé needed perfect timing. I could not think about mystery guests or tests or whatever game Jack was playing now.

Two hours later, I stood at the door in my red dress, my face painted with makeup that hid how exhausted I was. My hair fell in perfect waves. My smile was fixed in place. The perfect wife, ready to perform.

The first guests arrived. David Park and his wife Michelle. David was Jack's business partner, one of the few people at the company who treated me like a human being. Michelle was kind, always asking how I was doing with genuine concern in her eyes.

"Rose, you look beautiful," Michelle said, hugging me carefully. She always hugged me carefully, like she was afraid I might break.

"Thank you. Please, come in."

More guests arrived. Business partners and their wives. Everyone dressed expensively, everyone wearing masks of politeness that hid whatever they really thought. I played my part, offering drinks and small talk, laughing at jokes that were not funny, being exactly what Jack wanted me to be.

Then the doorbell rang one more time.

"I will get it," Jack said, his eyes glittering with something dangerous. "This is the surprise guest I mentioned."

He opened the door and my entire world stopped.

Standing in the doorway was Ethan Cole.

The same Ethan who had texted me three months ago. The same Ethan from college who had made me laugh. He looked different now, more mature, but his brown eyes were still kind. Still warm. Still everything Jack's eyes were not.

"Ethan, welcome!" Jack shook his hand enthusiastically. "Everyone, this is Ethan Cole, an old friend from college. He just moved back to New York and we reconnected. I thought it would be fun to have him join us tonight."

Ethan's eyes found mine across the room and something flickered in them. Recognition. Concern. Question.

"Hello, everyone." His voice was exactly as I remembered. Gentle. Real.

"Ethan, you remember my wife, Rose?" Jack pulled me forward, his hand possessive on my waist. "You all went to the same college, did you not? Small world."

"Rose." Ethan's eyes searched my face, and I knew he saw too much. The exhaustion. The fear. The trapped, desperate thing I had become. "It is good to see you again. I did not know you and Jack were married. Congratulations."

"Thank you." My voice came out steady despite the panic flooding through me. Why was Jack doing this? What was the test?

"Rose and I have been married for three months now," Jack said, pulling me closer. "Best decision I ever made. She is the perfect wife. Obedient, devoted, completely dedicated to making me happy. Are you not, darling?"

The word "obedient" hung in the air like poison. I saw Ethan's jaw tighten, saw something shift in his expression.

"Yes," I said, because that was the only safe answer. "I am very happy."

"That is wonderful," Ethan said, but his eyes said he did not believe me.

Jack smiled, satisfied with himself. He had brought Ethan here deliberately. To test me. To see if I would show any interest in another man. To watch me squirm. This was another one of his games, another way to prove his control.

Dinner was torture. Ethan sat across from me at the table, trying not to stare but unable to help himself. I felt his eyes on me every time Jack touched me possessively. Every time Jack interrupted me when I spoke. Every time Jack made a subtle put-down disguised as a joke.

"Rose is not very bright when it comes to business," Jack said at one point, laughing. "But that is okay. She does not need to be smart. She just needs to be pretty and know how to cook."

Everyone laughed except Ethan and Michelle. Michelle looked uncomfortable. Ethan looked furious.

"Actually," Ethan said carefully, "I remember Rose from our Contemporary Literature class. She gave one of the best presentations I have ever heard. She analyzed Virginia Woolf's feminist themes brilliantly. She is definitely smart."

The table went quiet. Jack's hand found my thigh under the table, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

"That was a long time ago," Jack said, his voice pleasant but his grip brutal. "Rose does not need to worry about literature anymore. She has more important things to focus on now. Being a good wife. Supporting my career. Right, sweetheart?"

"Right," I whispered, wanting to scream.

Ethan's eyes met mine across the table. In them, I saw something I had not seen in months. Recognition. Understanding. Someone who saw what was really happening.

And that was more terrifying than anything else.

Because if Ethan saw the truth, Jack would know. And if Jack knew, I would pay for it later.

After dessert, people moved to the living room for coffee and drinks. I escaped to the kitchen to prepare the coffee, desperate for a moment alone.

But Ethan followed me.

"Rose." His voice was quiet, urgent. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine." I focused on the coffee maker, not looking at him. "Why would I not be okay?"

"Because I have known you for years and I have never seen you like this. You look terrified. And the way Jack treats you—"

"Jack loves me." The lie tasted bitter. "We are very happy."

"Are you?" He moved closer, his voice dropping even lower. "Because from where I am sitting, this does not look like love. This looks like control."

Tears burned behind my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "You do not understand. This is just how marriage is."

"No. It is not." His hand almost touched my arm but stopped just short. "Rose, if you need help—"

"I do not need help." I finally looked at him, letting him see the warning in my eyes. "I am married. I made my choice. Please just leave it alone."

"Rose—"

"Everything okay in here?" Jack's voice cut through the kitchen like a knife.

Ethan stepped back immediately. "I was just asking where you keep the sugar."

"In the cabinet." Jack moved between us, blocking me from Ethan's view. "Rose, our guests are waiting for coffee. Do not keep them waiting."

"Yes. Sorry." I grabbed the coffee pot with shaking hands and left the kitchen.

Behind me, I heard Jack's voice, low and threatening.

"Stay away from my wife, Cole. She is mine. Do you understand?"

I did not hear Ethan's response.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Finally, blessedly, everyone left. Ethan was the last to go. He looked back at me one more time before Jack closed the door, and in his eyes, I saw pity.

I hated that pity almost as much as I hated Jack.

The door closed. The lock clicked.

We were alone.

Jack turned to me slowly, his pleasant mask dropping away to reveal cold fury.

"You failed the test," he said quietly.

My blood turned to ice. "What? No. I did everything you said. I smiled. I was charming. I—"

"You looked at him." Jack moved closer, backing me against the wall. "I saw how you looked at Ethan Cole. Like he was your savior. Like you wanted him to rescue you."

"I did not. I swear I did not—"

His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. Not squeezing hard enough to cut off air, but enough to terrify. Enough to remind me how powerless I was.

"Do not lie to me," he hissed. "I know what I saw. You wanted him. You were probably thinking about him while I was touching you. Were you?"

"No. I only think about you. Only you."

"Prove it." His grip tightened slightly. "Get on your knees."

Shame and fear flooded through me. "Jack, please—"

"I said get on your knees. Now. Or I call your father right now and tell him I am cutting off the money I have been giving him for his medical bills. Did you think I would not find out about his heart condition? Did you think I would not use it?"

Dad's heart condition. How did Jack know about that? Dad had not told anyone except me.

Jack saw the realization on my face and smiled. "I know everything about you, Rose. Everything about the people you love. And I will hurt them if you do not obey me. So I will ask you one more time. Get. On. Your. Knees."

I sank to my knees on the expensive hardwood floor, tears finally spilling down my cheeks.

This was my life now.

This was my husband.

This was the prison I had locked myself into.

And there was no way out.