For the ninety-ninth time, Thomas Wells brought a strange woman home.

Following his instructions, I was washing Chloe Brooks's feet.

Without warning, she kicked the basin violently, sending hot water splashing onto my face.

"Thomas, Ms. Harris just pinched my foot! My feet are for ballet—I'm in so much pain. What am I supposed to do for tomorrow's competition?"

Thomas flew into a rage. To punish me, he had someone bring a brazier, and I was forced to press my foot into the burning coals.

The smell of burning flesh filled the entire living room in an instant.

Thomas paid no attention as I collapsed to the floor, curling up and breaking out in a cold sweat.

He turned away, carrying Chloe off to the bedroom.

Shortly afterward, I called Thomas's sister, Tracy.

"Tracy, I'm sorry. I don't intend to be with Thomas anymore."

After that, I left and vanished from his life.

Later, I heard that Mr. Wells of the Wells family had gone mad.

Chloe Brooks wrinkled her nose at the smell of my burned foot—it was just too much for her.

Thomas Wells had his servants toss me right out of the doors.

I slumped against the wall, shivering from the pain.

In the background, the TV in the living room droned on about a nasty typhoon hitting us tonight.

There I was, in just a light jacket, in the dead of winter.

I banged on the window, crying out, "Thomas, please! Let me in! The typhoon's coming, and I'll die out here!"

When I was 15, my parents locked me up and planned to end me in a fire. Thomas was the hero who barged in and saved me from that fiery fate.

He was my savior once, but then, he seemed keen on seeing me gone.

I pounded harder, the window shaking with each hit.

Finally, Thomas came over, looking annoyed in his pajamas. "You're making a racket. What's wrong with you?

"Get moving. You woke us, so make yourself useful. Chloe's craving a cake from Victoria Square. Off you go."

"But there's a typhoon, and I'm hurt. Can't you just—"

He crouched down, his fingers ice-cold as they clamped onto my chin. "I said, go."

The servant bundled me up in a bulky, padded coat.

Stepping outside, the chill wind slapped my face raw.

I walked through the pain, teeth clenched.

By the time I got back, my umbrella was history, snapped by the wind. I was a sweaty, bedraggled mess.

Shaking, I handed the cake over to Chloe.

She lounged in the bedroom I used to share with Thomas, her nightgown more teasing than sleep, sampling the cake with a spoon.

"I can't stand this flavor—it's like a rosemary-lemon one. I wanted strawberry," she complained, tossing the cake into the garbage can with a look of disgust.

Thomas overheard and turned to me. "Go get another one, and make sure it's strawberry this time.

"If you're not back in an hour, you might as well bunk with the typhoon tonight."

The bakery owner was taken aback to see me again.

"Girl, you should head back. It's really late, and we're closing up.

"Don't risk your neck for a cake! We're in the middle of a typhoon here. Someone just got crushed by a tree that got blown over!"

As he moved to lock up, I grabbed his hand, desperation in my voice, "I'm sorry... Please, could you make just one more, a strawberry one?"

Cake in hand, I dashed back, narrowly avoiding a car that zoomed by, clipping me.

I hit the pavement hard, my clothes shredded by the rough asphalt.

Scrambling to my feet, I ignored the blood on my hands.

When I finally made it back to the villa with the cake, the servant informed me that Thomas and Chloe were asleep and had left strict orders not to be disturbed.

With that, the door was shut tight.

Panic-stricken, I pounded on the door. "No! Please! Thomas! I got the cake, let me in!"

After what felt like an eternity of silence, my limbs were numb and cold.

I forced myself to leave, remembering a nearby kennel.

The next day, I woke up in the hospital, aching all over.

The Wells family's private doctor was speaking, "Mrs. Wells, you're awake. The nanny found you in the kennel this morning and brought you here. You've got a high fever, so make sure to rest up today."

I tried to sit up, my voice raspy and weak.

"Where's Mr. Wells?" I asked.

"Ms. Brooks has a game today, and Mr. Wells escorted her," came the reply.

"Did he mention me at all?"

The family doctor just shook his head, no.

Last night, as the typhoon howled outside, even the dog found shelter in a cozy, warm house.

Me? I was practically living in a kennel to keep from freezing.

A lump formed in my throat.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and called Tracy Wells. "Tracy, I'm sorry, but I can't be with Thomas anymore."

It was shortly after I had graduated from college that Tracy showed up out of the blue.

She wanted to introduce me to someone.

The second I laid eyes on Thomas, my heart skipped a beat. I knew him instantly—the boy who had braved a raging fire to save me.

Tracy explained that Thomas had been in a car accident and it had left him with mental scars. He did not trust anyone.

She said she was his sister, that she had been nothing but kind and loving to him, but he still treated her like an enemy.

She wanted me to marry him, to be by his side and help him heal.

Just as she had predicted, the debt of gratitude I owed him for saving my life made me love him with all my heart.

The thought of marrying him filled me with warmth in a world that had turned bleak.

When Thomas first saw me, his face lit up with a curious smile at my blushing cheeks.

He even said he wanted to marry me.

Before our big day, he could not have been sweeter.

His gentle gaze made me fall for him over and over.

However, on the first night after our wedding, the dream I had been living in came crashing down.

Thomas's gaze was menacing as he gripped my neck, pinning me down on the bed.

"Rebecca! You haven't even apologized for bumping into me, and now you have the nerve to marry into my life!" he snarled. "You wish I were dead? Just wait and see how I'll 'take care' of you from now on."

I gasped for air, my struggles futile. I wanted to scream that it was not me who had crashed into him, but it would not matter.

Thomas never believed a word I said. He was convinced I was the one responsible for his car accident, and that belief turned our marriage into a living hell.

Five years of love, five miscarriages, and endless heartache from the women he paraded before me. I was exhausted, drained of the will to fight any longer.

Tracy had been keeping an eye on me for five years, witnessing the scars that marred my body and soul. Then, she finally saw the truth. "Rebecca, I know all the terrible things Thomas has done to you. He's not worth it.

"If you want to leave, I'll help you. It's my fault you're in this mess... you should never have had to endure this," she said through tears. Her words made me cry silently.

After the call, I wasted no time in booking a flight abroad for the following week. It felt like years of tension melted away in that moment.

However, then, Thomas's call interrupted my brief respite. "Rebecca, get to Chloe's dance party immediately. I'm texting you the address. There's something I need you to do."

I quickly got dressed and hailed a cab. I figured I might as well play along one last time before I left.

At the venue, Chloe was in the makeup room, her skilled hands crafting a flawless look.

She was a ballet dancer, her makeup as perfect as her pirouettes, a sharp contrast to my worn-out, pale reflection in the mirror.

She pursed her lips, tugging at Thomas's shoulder. "Thomas, Rebecca's still limping. Isn't it a bit much to make her come all this way?"

"Don't worry about her," he said with a dismissive wave. "She's as tough as they come—she once carried a sack of sand as heavy as a full-grown person."

After high school, to scrape together my college tuition, I actually hauled sandbags for a month.

"Wow, Rebecca must be pretty strong."

Thomas caressed Chloe's hair with a tenderness that did not reach his eyes as he turned to me. "Chloe hurt her ankle in her last performance. Today, you're taking her place."

Slipping into the ballet dress I had not worn in ages, the white fabric hugged my body, a ghost of the past. I remembered how I had learned that Thomas liked girls who danced ballet. I practiced until I fell over and over, all to master the dance that might catch his eye.

I even dressed to his tastes, all for that chance to make him fall for me the moment we met.

Chloe stood in front of the mirror, wiping away the layers of stage makeup to reveal her everyday look. She turned to Thomas with a bright smile. "How do I look?"

"You're always beautiful," he said warmly. "Makeup just makes you look like someone else."

Her smile froze for a split second before she regained her composure, slipping back into her usual soft-spoken grace.

I felt a pang in my chest listening to them, a sharp ache that would not ease. I glanced down at the shoes before me. As I slipped my foot in, a sudden, stabbing pain shot through me—there was a needle in the shoe!

Blood welled up, and Chloe, ever the silent shadow, slipped a silver-gray mask over my face, her breath chill against my ear. "This is my gift to you, Rebecca."

Pushed onto the stage, I danced through the pain, each step a battle to keep standing.

The moment I stepped off the stage, my legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor.

Thomas walked up to me, his eyes icy and emotionless.

I was panting, desperately trying to grab onto his pant leg.

"Thomas, it hurts... There's a needle in my shoe, please help me."

Thomas looked at me with revulsion and kicked my hand away.

"Rebecca, you were just bouncing around on stage, and now you're talking about a needle? What's this act? You think a little blood in your shoe is going to trick me? For all I know, that could be any animal's blood."

Chloe swooped in like she was the good guy, helping me up with a fake look of concern. "Rebecca, are you alright? You were amazing up there, but trying to snag Thomas's attention like this? Not cool. Thomas wants people who keep it real."

As she spoke, her razor-sharp nails dug into my arm, sending waves of pain through me.

I tried to shove her off, but she suddenly seized my hand and pretended I had knocked her violently to the ground.

"Rebecca! I'm so sorry! I know you can't stand me! I'll stay out of your way from now on."

I glared at Chloe, my anger boiling over as I thought of all the women Thomas had paraded around. "Get lost, you homewrecker! You're nothing but a husband-stealer!"

Thomas's hand struck my face, and I touched the blood trickling from the corner of my mouth as I hit the ground.

"You insult her? You're not even in her league."

I lay there, watching Thomas lift Chloe in his arms and walk away.

His back turned to me, and Chloe's smug look burned into my memory.

My heart, already numb with pain, throbbed with a fresh wave of hurt.

In the end, all I could do was hail a cab and head home alone.

I made it back to the villa way past midnight and found Thomas there, waiting for me like some kind of grim statue. He was casually holding a cigarette, his back against the door.

"Come here," he said, his voice icy.

I hesitated, but I moved closer.

"Hold out your hand."

Before I knew it, he flicked the ash into my palm and then snuffed out the cigarette right there on my skin. His other hand clamped down on mine as I tried to pull away. Pain shot through me, and I could not hold back the tears.