Chapter 2

The annual Harrison Charity Gala was tonight. Ethan always made a show of it. This year, he said, it would be special. For Brittany. A new wing in the museum, named after her. He’d been unusually… quiet with me the past few days. Almost polite. A tiny, foolish part of me wondered if the approaching ten-year mark, my quiet preparations to leave, had somehow registered. Hope is a stubborn thing. It was crushed the moment we arrived. The ballroom glittered. Hundreds of wealthy faces turned. Ethan’s hand was tight on my arm. He led me not to our table, but towards the stage. Brittany was already there, preening under a spotlight, a microphone in her hand. “And now,” Brittany cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “my darling Ethan has a very special… charitable donation to announce.” Ethan stepped forward, pulling me with him. He smiled, a cold, predatory smile I knew too well. “Tonight,” Ethan announced, his voice booming, “we auction a unique experience.” My stomach clenched. “An experience with my… wife, Sarah.” A gasp went through the crowd. Then, a murmur. He turned me, his fingers digging into my shoulder, forcing me to face the audience. “She comes from such humble beginnings,” Ethan continued, his voice laced with mock pity. “It’s only right she gives back.” He gestured to a large screen behind us. My private photos flashed across it. Me, in moments of vulnerability, moments of contrived humiliation he’d orchestrated over the years. And then, a close-up. The brand on my hip. Exposed for everyone. “The highest bidder,” Ethan declared, “will fund Brittany’s museum wing. And they will get… quality time with Sarah. Live-streamed, of course, for our exclusive donors.” My body went cold. I felt sick. This wasn’t just humiliation. This was a public sale. He was auctioning me off like property. The world tilted. I saw Brittany smirk, her eyes gleaming with triumph. Ethan looked down at me, his expression one of utter contempt. “Smile, Sarah. It’s for charity.” He believed he owned me. He believed he could do anything. And in this room, surrounded by his power, his money, maybe he could.