That night, we went to a high-end Italian restaurant. One of those places where everything looked perfect. The food, the lighting, the view from the top floor overlooking the city.
It should’ve been romantic.
But I felt nothing.
Felix sat across from me, looking calm, composed… but I noticed it.
The way he kept checking his phone.
Waiting.
Of course he was.
Waiting for her message because she was his wife.
When his phone finally rang, he answered immediately, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.
He moved too fast and pressed the wrong button.
Speaker.
Shannon’s voice came through, shaking, panicked.
“I… I’ve been taken! I don’t know where they’re bringing me… but it’s okay. Maybe this is better… if I disappear, Miss McKellar won’t be upset anymore… ah—! Help me!”
The line cut.
Felix’s face changed instantly.
He tried calling back. Again. Again.
Nothing.
Then he looked at me.
His voice forced calm, but I could hear the tension underneath. “Danica… where did you send her?”
I frowned. “What?”
“If you’re pissed, you tell me,” he said, his tone tightening. “I’ll handle it. You don’t need to get your hands dirty. Why the hell would you do something like this yourself?”
“I’ll say it again,” I said quietly, putting my fork down. “It wasn’t me.”
The next second, his hand clamped around my wrist.
Tight.
“Shannon’s not stable,” he snapped, his voice sharp now. “She can’t handle this kind of shit!”
My heart stuttered.
“Danica,” he continued, frustration breaking through, “can you just stop for a second? You lost a hand, yeah, I know, but she’s been through a lot too. Stop pushing her and just let her go, alright?”
I froze.
My eyes slowly burned. She’s been through a lot?
I almost laughed.
She attacked me with an axe. And someone protected her so she didn’t even spend a day in prison.
She married the man she wanted. She lived comfortably, hidden away, loved for four years.
And now… she was free.
So tell me…
Who was the victim?
And who had been fighting alone this whole time?
I forced my tears back and looked at him, my voice slow and steady. “I said I didn’t do it, and… even if this is a transplanted hand, it still hurts.”
Felix froze, then looked down at my wrist like he just noticed it was red. “Shit… Danica, I’m sorry,” he muttered, letting go right away. “I thought you might do something reckless. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He exhaled and added, “Where are the rings I gave you? Why aren’t you wearing them?”
I almost laughed. “You gave me the men’s one. It didn’t fit, so I took it off.”
He paused, a little thrown off, then nodded. “Alright. We’ll switch them back when we get home.”
After that, he dropped it. Like Shannon didn’t even exist.
...
Three days later, late at night, his phone rang and he got up immediately. His hand was already on the door when he suddenly turned back to look at me and stopped. I just sat there, calm, not asking anything, not stopping him, nothing. For a second he looked… unsettled. Like he didn’t expect this version of me. He hesitated, like he might stay, but then his phone rang again.
“Something came up at the company,” he said quickly and left.
He didn’t come home that night. Just one message.
[Danica, I’ve got work. Staying late. Go to sleep first. Love you.]
I stared at it, then turned the screen off. Those words meant nothing now.
The next morning, a maid said someone was looking for me. I stepped outside and something hit the back of my head. Everything went black.
When I woke up, my body was tied up. Hands, legs, everything. My mouth was sealed. I was in a private room in a nightclub, music faint in the background. They dressed me in a servant's uniform and a mask. Just like her. My hair was gone, cut short and uneven, barely touching my ears. Felix liked my long hair. Said it made me look soft. Now it was gone.
The door slammed open.
“Wife, is this the one who locked you up and tortured you for three days?” Felix’s voice was low and dangerous.
“It’s her!” Shannon cried immediately. “She said Miss McKellar ordered her to make me suffer, to make me wish I was dead. She tortured me, locked me up, even brought men to humiliate me. I almost…” her voice broke. “I barely made it out…”
I struggled, trying to make a sound. Nothing came out.
Felix’s tone turned colder. “Danica went too far. I won’t touch her, but I can make an example out of someone else.” He paused, then said, “Bring me the whip. The one soaked in salt.”
My whole body started shaking. She wasn’t just framing me. She wanted him to think I was something filthy. Someone he could punish.
Felix stepped closer, whip in hand, looking at me. For a second, he hesitated. His eyes narrowed slightly, like something felt off. The lights were dim. Maybe he saw it. Maybe he felt it. That something about me was familiar.
Then—
“Honey…” Shannon hugged him from behind, her voice soft and trembling. “Thank you for standing up for me. That woman… she hurt me so much…”
I knew why he didn’t recognize me. I never wore servant uniforms and I always kept my hair long, the way he liked it. The woman in front of him now had short, uneven hair and a cheap uniform, and there was no way, in his mind, that I could be his Danica. I saw it in his eyes, the moment that thought settled in, everything warm in him disappeared. What was left was cold and violent and insane.
“If you dare touch my wife, I’ll make you suffer a thousand times worse! You fucking hear me?! I’ll make you wish you were never fucking born.”
The whip cut through the air. “Smack!” The first hit landed hard and my back snapped straight, the barbs tearing into my skin like claws.
