Unwanted Wife, Unseen Torment

Gavin

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Another wave of pain hit me, a familiar, gut-wrenching cramp. I was bleeding again. This was the tenth time. Each time it happened, my husband, Liam Stone, would bring a woman home. A woman who looked exactly like his first love. Tonight was no different. He stood in our bedroom doorway, a woman by his side he introduced as Maya, flatly stating, "She' ll be staying with us for a while." His eyes never met mine; they were solely on her. Then, his words like stones, he commanded, "You' ll be serving us." I pushed myself up, the fresh bloodstain on the mattress a grim testament to my latest loss. My body ached, my world felt numb, yet the familiar routine played out as I fetched the wine. I returned to find them on my bed, Liam kissing her, a scene I had been forced to witness nine times before. A single drop of red wine accidentally splashed onto Maya' s pristine white dress. She gasped, theatrically exclaiming, "My dress! It' s ruined! This is a limited edition!" Liam' s face turned to thunder. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "You clumsy bitch," he snarled, then pulled out his phone. He started a live broadcast, aiming the camera at my face, then at Maya' s stained dress, and finally, the blood on the bed. "Look at her," he boomed to the world. "This is my wife, Chloe Miller. She can' t even do a simple task without messing it up." Then, he shoved my face closer to Maya' s dress, barking, "Lick it clean." My blood ran cold. "Liam, please," I begged, humiliation clawing at my throat. "Don' t do this." "Lick it," he repeated, his voice menacing. "Or I' ll find other ways to make you pay. Maybe you' d prefer to serve more than just one of my guests tonight?" His threat hung in the air, vile and real. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, the taste of wine and cheap perfume filling my mouth. He laughed, a harsh, grating sound, then released my hair, and I collapsed. "Get out," he spat. "And don' t come back in here tonight." I crawled out, another sharp pain tearing through my abdomen, warm blood gushing between my legs. He left me in the yard, naked, bleeding onto the cold, damp grass. Ten miscarriages. Each time, a new woman, a new cruelty. Lying there, under the cold moon, clarity dawned. This would never end. He would only ever destroy me. As the last warmth left my body, a new resolve settled in. It was time to see Arthur Stone. My "good fortune" was broken; I couldn't give Liam a child. I was done. I had to leave. Arthur, his face etched with mirroring grief, agreed to help me. But before I could escape, Maya found it-the small, simple urn holding the ashes of my nine miscarried children. Liam, ever her protector, kicked me into unconsciousness. I awoke to a new horror: a video compilation of my most private moments with him, twisted clips set to mocking music, broadcast for the world to see. He then forced me to donate blood until my heart nearly stopped. He froze my bank accounts. I crawled home from the hospital, only to find Maya burning my mother' s jade hairpin, my last connection to her. The urn was gone, its contents scattered. The next morning, the nine pear trees I' d planted were uprooted, replaced by rose bushes for her. That was the end. With Arthur' s help, I left the country, divorce papers filed on my behalf. Liam laughed when he received them, certain I' d crawl back. He was wrong. He only realized his mistake when he discovered Maya' s lies, the truth about her, and me. He tried to win me back. But it was too late. I was gone, never coming back. His family' s business collapsed, his health failed. The last I heard, Liam Stone, once the man who had everything, was a reclusive, crippled beggar, haunting his desolate mansion, obsessively planting pear trees and crying out my name in his madness.

Betrayal Revenge Pregnancy Divorce CEO

Chapter 10

11-04 04:38

Introduction

Another wave of pain hit me, a familiar, gut-wrenching cramp.

I was bleeding again.

This was the tenth time.

Each time it happened, my husband, Liam Stone, would bring a woman home.

A woman who looked exactly like his first love.

Tonight was no different.

He stood in our bedroom doorway, a woman by his side he introduced as Maya, flatly stating, "She' ll be staying with us for a while."

His eyes never met mine; they were solely on her.

Then, his words like stones, he commanded, "You' ll be serving us."

I pushed myself up, the fresh bloodstain on the mattress a grim testament to my latest loss.

My body ached, my world felt numb, yet the familiar routine played out as I fetched the wine.

I returned to find them on my bed, Liam kissing her, a scene I had been forced to witness nine times before.

A single drop of red wine accidentally splashed onto Maya' s pristine white dress.

She gasped, theatrically exclaiming, "My dress! It' s ruined! This is a limited edition!"

Liam' s face turned to thunder.

He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.

"You clumsy bitch," he snarled, then pulled out his phone.

He started a live broadcast, aiming the camera at my face, then at Maya' s stained dress, and finally, the blood on the bed.

"Look at her," he boomed to the world. "This is my wife, Chloe Miller. She can' t even do a simple task without messing it up."

Then, he shoved my face closer to Maya' s dress, barking, "Lick it clean."

My blood ran cold.

"Liam, please," I begged, humiliation clawing at my throat. "Don' t do this."

"Lick it," he repeated, his voice menacing. "Or I' ll find other ways to make you pay. Maybe you' d prefer to serve more than just one of my guests tonight?"

His threat hung in the air, vile and real.

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, the taste of wine and cheap perfume filling my mouth.

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound, then released my hair, and I collapsed.

"Get out," he spat. "And don' t come back in here tonight."

I crawled out, another sharp pain tearing through my abdomen, warm blood gushing between my legs.

He left me in the yard, naked, bleeding onto the cold, damp grass.

Ten miscarriages.

Each time, a new woman, a new cruelty.

Lying there, under the cold moon, clarity dawned.

This would never end.

He would only ever destroy me.

As the last warmth left my body, a new resolve settled in.

It was time to see Arthur Stone.

My "good fortune" was broken; I couldn't give Liam a child.

I was done.

I had to leave.

Arthur, his face etched with mirroring grief, agreed to help me.

But before I could escape, Maya found it-the small, simple urn holding the ashes of my nine miscarried children.

Liam, ever her protector, kicked me into unconsciousness.

I awoke to a new horror: a video compilation of my most private moments with him, twisted clips set to mocking music, broadcast for the world to see.

He then forced me to donate blood until my heart nearly stopped.

He froze my bank accounts.

I crawled home from the hospital, only to find Maya burning my mother' s jade hairpin, my last connection to her.

The urn was gone, its contents scattered.

The next morning, the nine pear trees I' d planted were uprooted, replaced by rose bushes for her.

That was the end.

With Arthur' s help, I left the country, divorce papers filed on my behalf.

Liam laughed when he received them, certain I' d crawl back.

He was wrong.

He only realized his mistake when he discovered Maya' s lies, the truth about her, and me.

He tried to win me back.

But it was too late.

I was gone, never coming back.

His family' s business collapsed, his health failed.

The last I heard, Liam Stone, once the man who had everything, was a reclusive, crippled beggar, haunting his desolate mansion, obsessively planting pear trees and crying out my name in his madness.