Chapter 2

"Besides," I heard Mr. Hayes say through the cracked door, his voice greasy with insinuation, "if you get tired of her, I wouldn' t mind taking a turn. She has a great body."

My stomach churned. I felt sick, violated by their words.

Mark laughed again. "Hands off, Hayes. She' s my property. Even when I' m married, she' s not for you to touch."

His possessiveness wasn' t about love. It was about ownership. I was an object, a favorite toy he wasn' t willing to share.

That was the moment I decided. I wouldn' t just leave. I would disappear from his life so completely it would be like I never existed. I tiptoed away from his office, my award clutched so tightly in my hand that the corner dug into my palm.

Now, standing in our apartment, his words from that day echoed in my ears, overlaying his current disgusting offer.

"I' ll be your mistress?" I repeated, my voice flat.

He smiled, thinking he had won. "Of course. A smart girl like you knows a good deal when she hears one."

I felt a cold, hard knot of hatred form in my chest. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw nothing of the man I thought I loved. Only a monster stood before me. I kept my face blank, letting him believe his own delusions.

He walked over to his briefcase and pulled out a small, velvet box. "And here' s a little something to seal our new arrangement."

He expected me to be excited, to rush over like a dog begging for a treat.

I didn' t move. He opened the box himself, revealing a custom-made collar, studded with diamonds. A small, gold plaque was attached to it.

My eyes zoomed in on the engraved word: "Mine."

A wave of humiliation so intense it made me dizzy washed over me. A collar. He bought me a literal collar.

"It' s beautiful, isn' t it?" he said, his voice laced with a sick sort of pride. "We can try it on tonight. I want to see you wearing it."

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I must have looked pale, because a flicker of concern crossed his face.

"What' s wrong, Chloe? Don' t you like it?"

Just then, his phone rang. It was a special ringtone, a soft, melodic tune I had never heard before. It was obviously for Sophia.

He glanced at the screen and his whole demeanor changed. The predatory gleam in his eyes softened into something resembling affection. He immediately pushed me aside, not gently, and walked across the room to answer it.

I stumbled back, catching myself on the arm of the sofa. He didn' t even look at me.

I stood there, silent, listening to him coo into the phone.

"Hey, baby. Yes, of course I miss you… No, I' m just finishing up some work… I' ll be there soon, I promise."

His voice was a gentle murmur, the voice he used to use with me in the beginning. Each sweet word he spoke to her was a fresh wound in my already broken heart.

He hung up and turned back to me, his expression once again cool and distant. He grabbed his coat.

"I have to go," he said, not even a hint of an apology in his tone.

I felt a desperate, foolish urge to make him stay, to make him look at me.

"You' re going to her?" I asked, a bitter, sarcastic edge to my voice that I couldn' t control.

He paused at the door, a smirk playing on his lips. "Jealous, Chloe? Don' t worry. I' ll be back for you later."

I immediately regretted my words. Why was I still trying to get a reaction from him? It was pointless.

"Get out," I said, my voice cold and firm. "Just go."

His smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. He strode back to me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him.

"Don' t you dare use that tone with me," he snarled. "You seem to be forgetting your place."

His thumb pressed hard against my lips, a gesture of ownership and contempt.

I had reached my limit. The pain, the humiliation, the disgust-it all boiled over.

"We' re done, Mark," I said, my voice clear and unwavering. "It' s over."

He stared at me, his eyes wide with genuine shock. For a a split second, he looked completely lost.

"What did you say?"

"I said, it' s over," I repeated, pulling my face from his grasp. "I' m not going to be your wife, and I' m damn sure not going to be your mistress."

His shock quickly morphed into rage. He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that filled the room.

"Over? You think you can decide when it' s over? Chloe, you have nothing without me. I made you. I can destroy you."

His threats didn' t scare me anymore. What else could he do to me that was worse than what he had already done?

"Get out of my apartment," I said, pointing to the door.

He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

The silence that followed was deafening. I slid down to the floor, my body trembling uncontrollably. The tears I had been holding back for a week finally came, hot and bitter. I wasn' t crying for the love I had lost. I was crying for the seven years I had wasted on a man who saw me as nothing more than property.