The dim light of the living room flickered as Shi Zhang loomed over you, his twisted smile sharp against the shadows. You had tried to escape — again. But he'd caught you before you reached the door.

"No, no! Get away!" you cried, scrambling to push him off as he shoved you onto the sofa.

“We’re really starting to have some trust issues here, aren’t we?” Shi Zhang’s voice dripped with mock disappointment, his hands pressing your shoulders down.

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “Please… tell me who you are!” you begged, desperation in your voice. You knew — deep down — that he wasn’t your husband. He couldn’t be.

Shi Zhang’s expression hardened. “I am your husband,” he insisted, each word sharp and forceful. “The sooner you realize that, the better everything will be. I promise.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you lashed out, trying to kick him away. But he caught your injured foot easily, gripping it tight as he sat on the coffee table in front of you. Pain flared through your leg, and you cried out.

“Did you do this?” His fingers traced the haphazard tape wrapped around your foot, meant to act as a makeshift cast. “Not bad,” he mused before suddenly tearing it off, making you yelp.

“Now listen to me.” His fingers dug into your ankle, his grip cold and punishing. “If that leg is ever gonna get better, you’re going to have to stay off it.”

You nodded frantically. “O-okay,” you whispered.

“Promise me,” he demanded, his grip tightening.

You nodded.

But that wasn’t enough.

Without warning, he twisted your foot sharply. White-hot pain shot through your body, and you let out a broken sob.

“Say it, darling,” Shi Zhang murmured sweetly, his grip unrelenting.