Chapter 3

My twenty-five-year-old brother, Tyler, opened the door. The moment he saw me, he scowled.

"What are you doing here?"

Without answering, I brushed past him into the living room. My mother was sitting on the sofa. When our eyes met, she looked away guiltily.

I reached into my bag, wanting to tell her I was sick.

Dying people always desperately grasp for any shred of maternal warmth.

"So, you found out?" she asked before I could speak.

My hands froze.

"Nora, listen to me. Just turn a blind eye," my mom said nonchalantly. "You know how good Julian has been to you. Men are wired to cheat. Even your deadbeat father did it, so what do you expect from someone as rich as Julian?"

"Don't say I'm not on your side. I'm telling you this "because" I care about you. Remember all the debt our family owed? Julian paid it all off. He bought Tyler's house, bought his car, and paid for his wedding. We owe that man everything."

My ears began to ring.

Without sound, it looked like a loving mother giving gentle advice.

With the sound turned on, every word felt like a poisoned dagger thrust into my chest.

"Mom... you're my mother..."

Her brow furrowed in annoyance.

Tyler chimed in from the side, sneering, "Get over yourself! What man doesn't want a younger girl? You marrying Julian was pure luck for our family. You really think you're his one and only? If you get divorced, there's a whole line of gorgeous girls waiting to take your place!"

"What gives you the right to talk to me like that?!" I screamed back.

My mother’s voice instantly rose, louder and harsher. "Your brother isn't wrong! I’m looking out for your future! If you divorce him, where the hell are you going to find another man as generous as Julian?!"

"What if I'm dying?!" I shouted.

A sharp slap cracked across my face.

The sting burned my cheek, matching the venom in her glare.

"I tell you to keep your marriage together, and you threaten me with death?! Fine! If you're really going to die, divorce him first and leave all your assets to your brother! Consider it paying me back for raising you!"

For a split second, I flashed back to my senior year of high school.

My mother had beaten me with a wooden broom, calling me a worthless burden. I had fled into the street, bruised and crying, straight into Julian’s arms.

Without a word, Julian bought a knife from a convenience store and stormed right into my house.

"If you ever touch Nora again, I swear to God I'll end your precious son!"

The eighteen-year-old boy looked wild and terrifying. But in the darkest corner of my life, he was my only light.

When I returned home that evening, Julian was sitting on the living room sofa, his long legs crossed. Moonlight poured over his sharp, tailored frame—a handsome monster.

My heart felt completely numb. I ignored him and started up the stairs.

Suddenly, his hand gripped my wrist. Ignoring my struggles, he shoved me down onto the sofa. The heavy scent of expensive scotch washed over me.

His cold hands slithered over my skin like a serpent.

I fought against him, but he pinned both of my wrists above my head.

Helpless, suffocating disgust ripped a scream from my throat.

"Julian, let go of me! Don't touch me!"

"You're my lawful wife! Why the hell shouldn't I touch you?!"

Nausea surged in my gut. I dry-heaved violently.

I hadn't eaten all day; there was nothing left to throw up.

Julian leaned down, his eyes dark with resentment. "You act like I disgust you, Nora. But tell me... are you really that clean yourself?!"

The room fell silent.

I froze, staring blankly up at him as the last ember in my soul died out.

Julian was right.

Was I ever clean to begin with?