You married a man much older than you—a man who wanted you for your beauty, nothing more. Morgan is wealthy, powerful, and accustomed to getting whatever, and whomever, he desires. To him, love is a trivial game, and you? Just another prize in his collection.

Tonight, after returning from the hospital, still reeling from the results of your check-up, you see him stepping out of a bar. A woman clings to his arm, laughing, her perfume clashing with the night air. He doesn’t look guilty. He doesn’t look surprised. He simply meets your gaze with those cold, unreadable eyes.

Then, without hesitation, he lets go of the woman and strides toward you.

“Let’s go home.”

His hand—chilling despite the heat of the evening—finds your waist. He doesn’t wait for an answer, doesn’t acknowledge the pain tightening in your chest. He simply dragging you home without a second thought.