My husband, Caleb Gilbert, was a top lingerie designer.
As his wife, I suffered from severe stress-induced chest trauma. Even the slightest touch brought unbearable pain.
He'd brought in a lingerie model with a stunning figure, Faye Snow, and I gave her an approving nod after looking her over.
Great lingerie deserved a great model to showcase it. It would only help his career.
But when Caleb saw me nod, his fingertips grazed casually across Faye's chest.
"Good that you agree. From now on, Faye will take over your wifely duties when it comes to this."
I froze, staring at him in disbelief.
"What did you just say?"
He cradled my face in his hands, his eyes full of tender affection.
"Sweetheart, I need real feedback to design better pieces."
"I don't want you to suffer, and I need this for work, so..."
I blinked rapidly, forcing back the sting of tears.
"If she's going to replace me, then she can have the title of Mrs. Gilbert too."
——
The moment those words left my mouth, Faye's eyes lit up.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Caleb cut her off. "Go get dressed."
After Faye left, he ran his fingers through my hair.
"Sweetheart, don't talk nonsense. Faye is only replacing one small part of what you do. We've depended on each other since we were kids. You'll always be my one and only Mrs. Gilbert."
The absurdity of it crashed over me like a wave.
We'd grown up together in an orphanage, built everything from nothing until his name was known everywhere. I'd been by his side through all of it. He'd promised he would never betray me.
And now, in the same breath that he spoke of how we'd always had each other, he was doing exactly that.
Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.
Caleb gently wiped them away.
"Sweetheart, I know this is hard for you, but you have to see things from my side."
"I'm a man, and I'm a designer. I need real experience and real feedback. You can't even be touched. What normal man could live with that?"
I couldn't hold back the sob that tore from my throat.
"Caleb Gilbert, you bastard. You know exactly why I have this condition."
Five years ago, before a major international competition, someone had tried to kidnap Caleb.
I'd thrown myself in front of him, shielding him with everything I had. I was the one they took instead.
Those men had brutalized my upper body, one after another, leaving me with crippling trauma that never healed.
A flicker of guilt crossed his face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
"Fine, I'm a bastard. But I gave up that competition to save you. I've put up with this for years. You should be grateful."
I unclenched my fingers from where they'd been digging into my palms and slapped him across the face as hard as I could.
He didn't dodge. The red mark bloomed instantly.
He didn't lose his temper. He just caught my hand and held it. "If it makes you feel better, hit me as much as you want. But once you're done, let's stop fighting about this."
I opened my mouth, about to speak.
The sharp click of heels echoed down the hall.
"Caleb, this vintage gown has such beautiful fabric. I want to take it apart and use it as lining for a new lingerie design."
Faye Snow walked out wearing a pale ivory vintage gown.
The moment I recognized it, I rushed toward her. "Take it off. Now."
That gown was a wedding gift, hand-sewn for me by Mrs. Whitmore, the late director of the orphanage who had raised us both.
Faye stepped back. "I'm not taking it off. Caleb said I could try on whatever I wanted."
I reached for the collar of the gown, but the instant before my fingers made contact, a sharp sting pierced my chest.
Faye had a pin hidden between her fingers. She drove it into my skin and yanked it out, pressing down hard on the spot for good measure.
Then she clutched her own chest and crumpled to the floor, pointing at the pin on the ground and shrieking, "Sophie, if you didn't want me to have it, you could've just said so! Why would you stab me with a needle?"
Caleb's expression darkened. He rushed over and pulled Faye to her feet. "Faye, are you okay?"
The searing pain and the flood of visceral, uncontrollable anguish hit me all at once. I curled in on myself, unable to stop the tears from pouring down my face.
