Aryana Mason POV:
I returned to the stables a week later.
I needed to feel powerful. I needed to ride.
Cameron had given me a thoroughbred for our first anniversary-a black stallion named Midnight.
He had told me, "This horse is yours. No one else rides him. Just like you are mine."
It was possessive. It was intense. And I loved it then.
I walked toward Midnight's stall, my riding boots clicking sharply on the concrete.
The stall was empty.
I frowned and walked out to the paddock.
My breath caught in my throat.
Kacie was on Midnight.
She was laughing, her head thrown back, parading around the ring.
Cameron stood by the fence, watching her with a small, indulgent smile.
He was adjusting the stirrup leather for her. His hands lingered on her calf.
That horse was mine.
It was the one thing that was solely mine in this marriage.
And he had given it to her.
The betrayal stung more than the affair. It was a violation of property. A transfer of status.
I couldn't let them see me cry.
I grabbed the bridle for Thunder, a notoriously ill-tempered roan that the stable hands avoided.
I saddled him myself, my hands shaking with rage.
I mounted up and kicked him into a gallop, bypassing the paddock where they were flirting.
I headed straight for the jump course.
I needed speed. I needed danger.
I pushed Thunder harder, the wind whipping tears from my eyes.
There was a high oxer jump ahead. A difficult one.
Cameron had taught me how to clear it. He was obsessed with safety. He checked every strap, every buckle.
I lined Thunder up.
We launched into the air.
At the apex of the jump, I felt a shift.
The saddle didn't just slip. It gave way.
The girth strap snapped.
I had no time to scream.
I hit the ground hard.
The impact knocked the air out of my lungs.
A sickening crack echoed through my body.
Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded in my right leg.
I lay in the dirt, gasping, tasting dust and blood.
Thunder galloped away, the saddle dragging behind him.
I looked toward the paddock.
Cameron was still there. He was looking at Kacie.
He hadn't seen me fall. Or maybe he had, and he didn't care.
"Cameron!" I tried to yell, but it came out as a broken croak.
No one came.
I was lying in the dirt with a broken leg, and my husband was flirting with his mistress two hundred yards away.
I gritted my teeth.
I dragged myself across the ground.
Every inch was agony. My leg felt like it was on fire.
I crawled all the way to the stable office.
I called the ambulance myself.
I didn't call Cameron.
Three hours later, I was in a private hospital room, my leg in a cast.
The door opened.
Cameron walked in. He held a basket of expensive fruit.
"I heard what happened," he said. His voice was calm. Too calm.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
He took out a knife and began to peel a pear.
"You were reckless, Aryana. Thunder is too much horse for you."
He sliced the pear perfectly.
He held a piece to my lips.
"Eat."
I turned my head away.
"The saddle broke," I whispered.
"Leather wears out," he said dismissively.
"It was cut," I said. "I checked it before I rode. It snapped clean."
He paused. The knife hovered over the fruit.
"Don't be paranoid."
He forced the pear piece into my hand.
"Rest. I have business to attend to."
He left the room.
He didn't ask if I was in pain. He didn't kiss my forehead.
He just fed me fruit like I was a pet that had misbehaved.
Hours later, deep in the night, I woke up to voices.
The door was slightly ajar.
Light spilled in from the hallway.
"I barely touched the strap," a woman's voice giggled.
Kacie.
"You went too far-" Cameron's voice. Low. Dangerous.
"I just wanted to teach her a lesson," Kacie said. "Show her she isn't invincible. I didn't think she'd break a bone. She's so fragile."
I held my breath. My heart hammered against my ribs.
I waited for Cameron to explode. To threaten her. To defend me.
"She is the face of the family, Kacie," Cameron said. "A cripple doesn't look good at galas."
"Oh, relax," Kacie purred. "You are visiting her. Bringing her fruit. She thinks you care. It keeps her docile."
Cameron let out a short, dry laugh.
"It is all theater," he said. "Just make sure the stable hand gets rid of the saddle."
"Done," Kacie said.
The footsteps faded down the hall.
I lay in the dark.
The cold started in my toes and spread up to my chest.
It wasn't the air conditioning.
It was the realization that I was sleeping next to a monster.
He knew.
He knew she had sabotaged the saddle. He knew she could have killed me.
And his only concern was that I wouldn't look good at parties.
He wasn't just indifferent. He was complicit.
I gripped the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white.
Tears ran down my face, hot and silent.
I stopped wiping them away.
Let them fall. Let them water the hate growing in my chest.
I wasn't going to just divorce him.
I was going to destroy him.
