Chapter 3

By the time Julian returned home, I had already put everything back in place.

He wrapped his arms around me like he always did, murmuring about funny little things that happened during his day. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I gagged.

I shoved him away, ran into the bathroom, and dry-heaved over the toilet.

Julian rushed in right behind me, patting my back with anxious concern.

"What's wrong? Why are you suddenly sick?"

The faint red mark of a slap still lingered on his cheek.

I reached out and touched it. His body stiffened instantly.

"What happened here?"

He shifted uncomfortably and touched his face. "I bumped into something at work today."

I forced a faint smile and sat back against the tile floor.

"If I remember correctly, Tiffany gets released from prison this year, right?"

He stared at me in surprise. I had never willingly brought up Tiffany's name in years.

"Where's the safe? Now that she's getting out, I can't sleep. I want to see the evidence files again."

Julian had told me back then that after he reported Tiffany, he locked all the documents in a safe so I wouldn't be triggered by them anymore.

If I wanted to expose Tiffany now, I needed those two years of evidence back.

Julian sighed heavily. "Is this because her release date is coming up? Are you having another episode?

How about I book an appointment with your therapist again? You should go talk to him."

My breath hitched as I stared at him in utter disbelief.

Years ago, when my depression was at its worst, Julian claimed he found me a top psychiatrist.

I never realized that my so-called "therapy" was actually being locked in a clinic room, subjected to constant psychological manipulation and gaslighting.

When I was finally released six weeks later, Julian gently told me Tiffany had been convicted and sent away.

He had fabricated the entire thing to keep me docile.

Choking down my revulsion, I took his hand. "I'm fine. I'm okay now, just curious."

I couldn't blow my cover yet. I had to find that safe.

Whenever Julian showered, he always put on buttoned-up pajamas. Even in the sweltering heat of summer, he wore long sleeves to bed every single night.

I had never questioned it before, but tonight, everything clicked.

Peeking through the cracked bathroom door, I saw his body covered in crisscrossing scars, both old and new.

Many of them were fresh, oozing raw red scratches.

I remembered what I had read during my frantic online searches this afternoon.

The forums said that people like them enjoyed this twisted dynamic mutually.

If they wanted their sick little fetish games, why drag me into it? What did my innocent mother ever do to them?

Hatred surged through my veins like ice water. I texted Julian saying I felt unwell and went to sleep in the guest room.

This continued for several days, but I still couldn't find the safe anywhere in the apartment.

Desperate, I went back to my parents' old house. Sitting before their portraits on the memorial table, I broke down in tears.

"Mom... I'm so sorry. I was so stupid."

I had let the enemy sleep beside me for years, living a lie while you died for nothing!

As I wept, my hand brushed against a red cloth covering a box beneath the altar table.

On an impulse, I yanked the cloth away.

A digital safe sat right there!

Julian had hidden it in my dead parents' home!

I punched in our anniversary, and the lock clicked open.

Yet inside, instead of the medical reports, photos, and incident logs I had painstakingly collected, there was only a stack of handwritten notes.

My hands shook as I picked one up.

The happiest part of my day is being stepped on by you.

I will do anything for you, Tiffany.

I grabbed the notes and shredded them into tiny pieces.

He had the audacity to stash his sick, perverted confessions right beneath my parents' pictures!

None of that mattered right now. My priority was finding my original evidence.