My husband cheated on me and brought his mistress home after her miscarriage, then forced me to swap lives with her.
She would live in the city, draped in luxury. I would be sent to the countryside to feed dogs and raise ducks.
My in-laws were all for it.
"Your health has never been good. Your family probably coddled you too much growing up."
"A few days of country living will toughen you up."
In my last life, no one asked my opinion. They just shipped me off.
I moved into Cecily Harris's family home, where I was up before dawn and worked until after dark, ordered around by her parents like a servant.
My already fragile body deteriorated rapidly.
When I collapsed from illness, her parents decided I was useless since I couldn't work anymore. They locked me in a storage shed and left me to starve to death.
When I opened my eyes again, I heard my husband and his parents discussing this "life swap" all over again.
I refused. My husband's response was a threat:
"If you won't go, we're getting a divorce. I get the kids."
...
"Then let's divorce."
"Take the kids. I don't want anything."
I'd figured it out. Being sent there was a death sentence. Better to walk away with nothing than to die alone in that shed.
Donald Henson clearly hadn't expected me to make a decision so quickly. He froze for a moment, and then his expression slowly twisted into something ugly.
"Is there another man? Is that what this is?"
"All I'm asking is for you to go stay somewhere else for a while, get your health back, and do something nice for Cecily in the process. And this is how you treat me?"
I didn't bother explaining. Trying to reason with someone this delusional would only make me lose my mind too.
I stepped around them and went straight to the bedroom to pack my clothes.
I hadn't even folded two items before he stormed in, grabbed my wrist, and pinned me against the wardrobe.
He forced my chin up, locking my gaze to his.
"Can you stop being so selfish? The swap with Cecily is only temporary. She lost the baby and asked me for one wish."
"She just wants to be my wife for a little while. You get to rest and recover in the countryside, she gets her wish fulfilled. What's the problem?"
Listening to his self-righteous little arrangement, I felt ice flood through my veins.
Donald and I had married for love.
We both had congenital heart disease. He was just the one who got sick first.
I'd begged my father, in tears, to give up my heart donor so Donald could be saved.
And I never found another match. I'd been kept alive ever since on my family's money, one expensive treatment after another.
But he loved me. At least, I'd believed that. We got married, built a home, even had children.
It was just that in recent years, my episodes had grown more frequent. I spent more and more time in the hospital.
Donald's grip softened.
"Go to the countryside and focus on getting better. I'll keep looking for a heart donor for you."
"And don't be angry at Cecily. I only went to her because she reminded me of you. I'm a man. I have needs. Your body can't handle it, so I had no choice but to..."
"Don't be upset. You're the only one I truly care about."
I wrenched free of his hands. A wave of nausea rolled through me.
I glared at him, every word dripping with venom.
"Spare me the 'I care about you' speech. It makes me sick."
"Just marry her and be done with it."
Donald's eyes went cold for a split second. He opened his mouth to say something, but a knock came at the door.
It was my mother-in-law's voice.
"Donald, the people are here. Send your wife out."
I heard them. The same men's voices from my last life, muffled through the door.
The moment Donald's attention shifted, I shoved him hard.
I bolted for the window, ready to climb out.
But Donald was tall and fast. He closed the distance in three strides, caught me around the waist, and hauled me straight to the door.
