I watched him walk away with her, leaving me tied up with our captors. His promise to "come back for me" was a cruel lie. Later, in the hospital, I overheard him confessing his love for Gemma, sealing my fate. The ultimate betrayal came when I discovered I was pregnant, only to lose our baby after witnessing their intimate embrace.
The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that ripped through me. I had loved him with every fiber of my being, and he had left me to die, then tortured me with his indifference.
But I wouldn't be a victim. I burned down our home, a symbol of our shattered life, and sold my shares in our company to his fiercest rival, Elliott George. I was done. I was free.
Chapter 1
The air in the abandoned warehouse was thick with the smell of rust and damp concrete. My hands were bound behind my back, the rough rope digging into my wrists. Across from me, Connor, my husband of ten years, was in the same position. Between us, crumpled on the floor, was Gemma Chan.
She was crying, her small frame shaking. "Connor, I'm so scared," she whimpered, her voice a theatrical whisper.
One of the kidnappers, a man with a jagged scar bisecting his face, laughed. He leveled his gun at Connor. "You're a lucky man, Connor Jones. CEO of Apex Dynamics. Rich. But today, your luck runs out. Today, you get to make a choice."
He gestured with the gun, swinging the barrel between me and Gemma. "You walk out of here with one of them. The other one stays. So, who's it gonna be? Your wife, or the daughter of the man who saved your life?"
My heart stopped. This was a nightmare. Connor's eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw the man I loved, the man I had built an empire and a life with.
Then his gaze shifted to Gemma. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Connor... my dad..."
That was all it took. The 'life debt,' as he called it. The ghost of her father, his fellow soldier who had died in combat, stood between us. It always did.
"I choose Gemma," Connor said, his voice strained.
The words hit me harder than a physical blow. Ten years. Ten years of love, of partnership, of building a dream together, all erased in a single moment.
The kidnappers cut Connor's ropes. He didn't look at me. He went straight to Gemma, helping her to her feet, his hands gentle on her arms.
"It's okay," he whispered to her, his voice impossibly soft. "I've got you."
She leaned against him, her body molding to his. It was a picture of intimacy, of a bond that clearly went deeper than guilt and obligation. My stomach twisted into a knot of pure acid.
As they walked towards the door, Connor finally glanced back at me. His face was a mask of regret. "Haven, I'm sorry. I'll come back for you. I promise."
His promise was an insult. A lie floating in the dusty air between us.
I watched him leave, taking Gemma with him. The heavy metal door slammed shut, the sound echoing the shattering of my heart. I was alone with them.
The man with the scar grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "Looks like your husband doesn't love you very much, Mrs. Jones."
He stalked towards me, his intentions burning in his eyes. "But don't worry. We'll keep you company."
Another man laughed, a greasy, terrifying sound.
"No," I whispered. "No."
I screamed for Connor, a desperate, raw sound that tore from my throat. "Connor! Help me! Connor!"
There was no answer. Only the ringing silence of his betrayal. He had left me. He had chosen her.
A wave of cold resolve washed over me. I would not let them touch me. I would not be their victim.
Behind me, through a grimy, broken window, I could see the dark, murky water of the industrial canal. It was a long drop.
As the scar-faced man reached for me, I did the only thing I could. I threw myself backward, crashing through the rotting window frame.
The world turned into a blur of glass and splintered wood. Then, the shock of icy water enveloped me.
It was cold, so cold. The weight of my clothes pulled me down. I struggled, my lungs burning for air, but the darkness was pulling me under.
As my consciousness faded, my life with Connor flashed before my eyes. Our first tiny apartment, where we drew up the plans for Apex Dynamics on a napkin. The day he proposed, promising we would conquer the world together. The nights we worked side-by-side, fueled by cheap coffee and a shared dream.
I had loved him. I had loved him with every piece of my being. And he had just left me to die.
The last thing I felt was a profound, bottomless sorrow. Then, nothing.
...
I woke to the rhythmic beeping of a machine and the sterile smell of antiseptic. A hospital.
My eyes fluttered open. Connor was sitting by my bed, his head in his hands. He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed.
"Haven," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're awake. Thank God."
He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. His touch felt like a brand.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I had no choice. I owed her father..."
He kept talking, the words a meaningless drone. He was sorry. He was tormented. It was all for show.
I saw it clearly now. The man in front of me wasn't the husband I loved. He was a stranger wearing his face.
For a year, ever since Gemma Chan had shown up on our doorstep clutching a faded photograph, our perfect life had been a lie. Connor had welcomed her into our home, insisting it was his duty to care for the fragile, traumatized daughter of his fallen comrade. I tried to be understanding, but his "duty" quickly became an obsession. He missed our anniversary because Gemma had a nightmare. He canceled a crucial meeting because she felt lonely. He defended her again and again, always citing the debt he could never repay.
And I, like a fool, had believed him. I had believed in a love that was already dead.
Lying in that hospital bed, looking at the man who had abandoned me, I finally understood.
In his heart, I was no longer his wife. I was an obstacle.