When Love Turns To Toxic Abuse

I was a talented designer married to Christian, the boy who swore he'd always protect me from my cruel sister, Gidget. He was my childhood sweetheart, my entire world.

Then I found him in our bed, tangled up with her.

He swore she drugged him, but then she turned up pregnant with his child. He chose her, letting her move into our home and believing every one of her lies.

When Gidget deliberately slammed a piano lid on my hand, shattering the bones and ending my career, he didn't see her malice. He saw me as the villain.

He slapped me, locked me away while my hand festered, and sided with the woman he knew had tormented me my entire life. The man who was my protector became my abuser.

Five years later, they walked into my new boutique, a celebrated power couple ready to offer me charity. They thought I was broken and alone.

They had no idea I was remarried to a man who was about to expose every last one of their secrets to the world.

Chapter 1

Elia POV:

My blood ran cold the moment I saw her. Gidget. Standing right there, in my store. Her eyes, wide and almost too innocent, fixed on me across the polished display of a vintage Chanel suit. She looked like she' d seen a ghost, but I knew the truth. She was the one who had always haunted my life.

I gripped the measuring tape in my hand tighter. It was a familiar weight, a reminder of the new routine I had meticulously built.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" I asked, my voice steady, professional. It was a shield, thick and impenetrable.

Her eyes narrowed. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her perfectly manicured hand. "Elia?" she whispered, as if my name itself was a delicate secret.

"This is my boutique," I stated, letting the words hang in the air. "Are you here to sell, or to consign?"

Gidget's pout was instant, practiced. "Oh, Elia. Still so cold, so bitter." Her voice took on that soft, wounded quality she perfected years ago. "Are you still angry? After all this time?"

I didn't dignify that with a response. I just raised an eyebrow, waiting. She always played the victim, always twisted the narrative. I wouldn't fall for it again.

My gaze flickered past her, towards the entrance. I knew. I always knew.

The bell above the door chimed, just as I expected. He walked in. Christian. Head turning, eyes searching, until they landed on me. His face, once so familiar, was now a stranger's mask of shock and disbelief.

"Elia," he breathed, the sound like a punch to my gut. It was a name he hadn't spoken in five years, a name he had replaced with Gidget' s.

I met his gaze, unflinching. "Mr. Prince," I said, a formal nod, nothing more. The man who had been my childhood sweetheart, my husband, was now just a client, a stranger. The raw, searing pain of his betrayal was a dull ache now, a scar, not an open wound.

He took a step forward, his hand reaching out, then stopping mid-air. "Where have you been, Elia? I looked for you." His voice was rough, edged with a desperation I didn't recognize, and frankly, didn't care for.

"You had no right to look for me," I retorted, the words sharp, precise. "Not after what you did."

He flinched. "We were together for so long, Elia. You can't just erase that."

"Long enough for you to choose her over me," I countered, my voice flat. "Long enough for you to make your choice. We are not 'together' anymore. We haven't been for a very long time."

His shoulders slumped. He looked… defeated. But it wasn't my defeat to bear.

I turned my back on him then, walking towards the counter. "Now, if you're not here for business, I'll have to ask you to leave." My heart beat a steady rhythm, a drum keeping time to my resolve.

My eyes fell on the items they had brought in. A collection of designer handbags, jewelry, and a silk robe. The very same robe, I vaguely remembered, Gidget used to wear when she visited our apartment. My stomach twisted.

A sharp, unwelcome memory flashed through my mind.

The scent of stale perfume, expensive and cloying, hung heavy in the air. I remembered bursting through the door, my heart pounding with a nameless dread.

Gidget had been there, wrapped in that silk robe, laughing too loudly. Her face flushed, triumph shining in her eyes. "Look, Elia!" she'd shrieked, holding up a shimmering diamond necklace. "He bought this for me! Isn't it just divine?"

She had always yearned for glittering things, for the kind of attention she believed my talent stole from her. It started with petty thefts from my childhood toy box, then it escalated.

Her smile had been sickeningly sweet as she watched my face crumple. "He cares about me, Elia. He always has. You're just… an obligation."

Then she leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "He never loved you, Elia. Not really. He just felt sorry for the pathetic little girl with no one else."

The memory dissolved. Now, years later, Christian and Gidget were a celebrated power couple. The items, once symbols of a stolen affair, were now casually brought into my shop, symbols of their supposedly legitimate life. I looked at the robe, the silk a reminder of her cruel victory.

They thought I was struggling. They thought I was alone. They thought wrong.