The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. My stomach churned, but the thought of food made me nauseous.
The lock clicked again.
I didn't move from my spot on the floor. I watched as the door opened and Donna slipped inside, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water.
"Eliza?" she whispered, her voice dripping with that sickening, sugary concern. "You must be hungry. I brought you something."
"Get out," I rasped, not looking at her.
"Please, Eliza," she sighed, setting the tray on the nightstand. She sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her skirt—my skirt. "I just want us to be happy. I want to help you accept the reality of the situation."
"The reality?" I looked up, my eyes burning. "The reality is that you’re sleeping with my husband."
"We’re in love," she said simply, as if discussing the weather. "George and I… we connect. He needs someone who understands him. Someone who can give him what he needs."
"You mean a son?" I spat. "You mean the heir I couldn't give him because he almost killed me?"
"Shh," she soothed, reaching out. "Don't be like that. You should just be honest with yourself. You were never right for him. You were always too… fragile."
"I was his wife!"
"And you cheated on him," she said, her eyes wide and innocent.
"You know that's a lie! You faked those photos! You hired someone!"
"Does it matter?" Donna shrugged, the mask finally slipping. A slow, cruel smirk spread across her lips. "He believes me. That’s all that counts."
"You whore," I whispered, the venom in my voice surprising even me.
Donna’s smirk widened. She stood up and walked over to me, looking down like I was a stain on the carpet.
"Call me whatever you want, Eliza. But the truth is, he wants me now. You’re barren. You’re empty. A broken vessel with nothing to offer. Why would he keep a car that can’t run when he has a brand new model right here?"
She placed a hand on her stomach, a gesture that made my blood boil.
I forced myself to breathe. In and out. I wouldn't let her see me break. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of my tears.
I stood up, wincing as my stitches pulled, and faced her.
"You might be right," I said, my voice deadly calm. "He might want you. He might sleep with you. But look at where we are, Donna."
"What?" she frowned.
"He locked me in here because he won't let me go," I said, stepping closer until I was inches from her face. "He said it himself. He won't divorce me. Which means, as long as I breathe, I am Mrs. George Caldwell. I am the wife."
I poked her chest hard.
"And you? You’re just the mistress. You’re the dirty little secret he keeps on the side. You’re the placeholder until he gets bored. And trust me, Donna, he always gets bored."
Donna’s face flushed red. Her composure cracked.
"You think a piece of paper makes you special?" she hissed. "He hates you!"
"He hates that he can't control me," I shot back. "And he hates that he still needs me for something. Otherwise, I'd be dead already."
Donna glared at me, her hands balling into fists. Then, she spun around and marched to the door.
"Enjoy your soup, Mrs. Caldwell," she sneered. "I'm going back to bed. With your husband."
She slammed the door. The key turned in the lock.
The night dragged on, a sleepless blur of shadows and pain. But when the sun finally broke through the heavy curtains, the lock turned again.
George walked in.
"Good morning, Eliza," he said, placing a fresh cup of coffee on the bedside table as if he hadn't held me prisoner for the last twelve hours.
I sat up, pulling the duvet to my chin. "George?"
"I trust you've calmed down," he said, adjusting his cufflinks. "You were quite hysterical yesterday. It was… concerning."
"I… I was upset," I said carefully, testing the waters.
"Understandable. Losing the baby… it’s hard on a woman’s mind," he said dismissively. He checked his watch. "Look, Grandfather’s 80th birthday dinner is tomorrow night. It’s a milestone. We need to make an appearance, and we need to bring a gift."
He looked at me, his eyes hard.
"I’m going into the city to pick something out at the auction house. You’re coming with me."
"I am?"
"Yes. We need to present a united front. No more rumors." He paused, his expression darkening. "Donna is coming too."
My fingers clenched under the sheets. "Donna?"
"She has an eye for these things. And frankly, Eliza, after the way you treated her last night, you owe her an apology."
I stared at him. "You want me to apologize to the woman who is sleeping with you?"
"I want you to apologize to my sister-in-law for physically assaulting her!" George snapped, his mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "If you can't do that, if you can't be civil, then maybe you really do belong in a psych ward."
He waited, challenging me. He expected me to fight. He expected the tears, the screaming, the "it's not fair."
But the Eliza who fought for fairness died in that hospital bed.
I took a deep breath. I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt unnatural, like stretching plastic, but I held it.
"You’re right, George," I said softy.
He blinked, taken aback. "I am?"
"Yes. I was… out of my mind with grief. I shouldn't have pushed her. She’s family." I looked down, feigning shame. "I’d love to come. I want to make it right."
George studied me for a long moment, searching for the crack in my armor. When he didn't find one, he smiled—a smug, victorious smile.
"Good girl," he said, patting my head like a dog. "I knew you’d see reason."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out my phone.
"Get dressed. We leave in an hour. And Eliza? Don't make me regret giving this back."
He tossed the phone onto the bed and walked out, leaving the door unlocked.
I waited until his footsteps faded before I grabbed the phone. My hands were trembling, not with fear, but with adrenaline.
I turned it on. Dozens of missed calls from my mother, from friends I no longer trusted. I ignored them all.
There was only one message that mattered.
It was from a number saved simply as Nico.
I opened the text.
I’ll see you soon, future wife. Be ready for me.
