Just because she was worried her sick first love couldn't handle any hardship, my wife changed our honeymoon tickets and handed me over to his vicious creditors as collateral. "One week, James. A week at most," she promised, her voice trembling. "As soon as I have the ransom, I'll come get you. We can go anywhere you want after this. I'll go with you." For that one week, they treated me like an animal, torturing me until I was broken. I prayed for her to appear every waking moment. But her? She was casually watching movies with him, enjoying romantic sunrises and scenic sunsets by his side. It wasn't until the tenth day that she finally showed up with the money, smiling, asking me where I wanted to go for the next leg of our trip. I just stared at her, my face a mask of confusion. "My wife? I'm sorry, miss, but I think you have the wrong person. I'm not married." 1 "This plane... it's not going to Paris, is it?" I tore my eyes from the window, my gaze landing coolly on my wife, Leah. The hand she was using to flip through a magazine froze mid-air. She snapped it shut with a practiced nonchalance and tapped me playfully on the forehead. "What a silly thing to say." "It's where we first met," she said, her voice a little too bright. "Where else would we go for our honeymoon?" She took my hand then, lacing her fingers through mine, squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. It felt less like a gesture of affection and more like a desperate attempt to keep me from vanishing into thin air. I didn't respond to her explanation. I just watched her, my silence a heavy weight between us. She was good at hiding it, but I could feel the tremor of panic in her grip. It wasn't just her, either. The men sitting around us, burly and stern-faced, kept shooting me sidelong glances. Their eyes were sharp, vigilant, like hunters watching prey they expected to bolt at any moment. I took a deep, steadying breath. "You don't have to lie to me," I said, my voice flat. "You swapped the tickets. This is about saving Chuck, isn't it?" The name hit her like a physical blow. I saw her whole body go rigid. Of course it did. Chuck was her first love, the man she’d dated for four years, the one she’d almost walked down the aisle with. "James, what are you talking about? I don't understand," she stammered, trying to rally. "He and I... that was over a long time ago." I cut through her flimsy facade. "I heard." "Chuck's in deep with some very bad people. They've got him." I held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. "He has that heart bypass surgery next week. You're planning to trade me for him, aren't you? A placeholder until you can pay his debt." This time, she didn't deny it. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. "James, I'm your wife now. Don't think such crazy things." She was pleading now. "Chuck... he's a victim in all this. He’s innocent." A sharp, cold pain lanced through my chest as I watched her. "His family isn't innocent, Leah." "They got rich selling dangerous counterfeit supplements. They ruined lives, destroyed families..." Before I could finish, she leaned in and silenced me with a kiss. It was desperate, salty with the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. "Don't," she whispered against my lips, her voice thick and choked. "The Chucks were good to me once. I can't just watch him die." She pulled back, her eyes wide and pleading. "Just a small sacrifice, James. That's all it takes for everyone to be happy... We're married. For the sake of our marriage, please... help me one last time. Please?" I saw the unyielding determination in her eyes and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You've changed, Leah." She didn't answer. Instead, she just buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I knew then, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that she would never be over him. In Leah's heart, I would always be second best to a man named Chuck. Even if he was a criminal who needed my freedom—our marriage—as a down payment for his salvation. ... We didn't speak for the rest of the flight. What was there to say? We both knew that once the plane landed, our life as husband and wife was effectively over. As the plane descended, my heart sank with it. Sure enough, the moment we stepped out of the jet bridge, a group of men built like brick shithouses surrounded us. The one in charge, a man with a jagged scar bisecting his eyebrow, followed Leah's gaze to me. His expression was a cocktail of contempt, triumph, and a strange sort of pity. "Willing to trade her own husband to save another man," he drawled, shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk... now that's what you call love." He flicked his wrist, and two of his goons grabbed my arms, their grips like iron clamps. The boss grinned, satisfied, and then shoved a frail figure towards Leah. "Chuck!" Leah cried out, rushing forward to catch him as he stumbled. He looked terrible. His face was ashen, his lips cracked and dry. He was a ghost of the man I’d seen in pictures. Leah wrapped her arms around him, her heart breaking all over her face. "What did they do to you?" she sobbed. "It's okay. It's all over now. You're safe." Chuck just nodded weakly, his eyes shining with the pure, unadulterated joy of a man pulled back from the brink of hell. I watched them, a hollow, self-mocking laugh bubbling in my throat. The concern she showed him was so real, so effortless. For a second, I lost the will to even struggle against the men holding me. What was I to her, really? A partner to build a life with? Or just a convenient, disposable asset? I had a feeling I'd never get an answer. From across the tarmac, Leah seemed to sense my stare. She bit her lip and finally looked at me. Her eyes were swimming with apology and guilt, but beneath it all was a core of unshakeable resolve. "James, I'm so sorry." "I promised you Paris, our honeymoon... but I can't... I can't just let Chuck die. He needs me." "Don't worry," she said, her voice earnest. "A week. Just give me one week, and I'll have the money. I swear. And then, wherever you want to go, I'll take you. Anywhere. Okay?" She stood on her toes, her eyes red and puffy, and tried to kiss me one last time. I turned my head away. Her lips met empty air. "Don't call me your husband," I said, my voice cold and dead. "Just go save your precious Chuck." 2 Leah flinched, but her composure snapped back into place almost immediately. "James, I know I was wrong to hide this from you," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Please, just trust me this one last time. I swear to you, you are the only husband I will ever have. I will be back on time." I didn't offer a single word in response to her vow. She opened her mouth, as if to say more, but closed it again. With one last, deep look, she turned, supporting Chuck's weight, and hurried away. As they left, I watched their retreating backs, a barren wasteland blooming inside my chest. It was only then that I saw it: Chuck glanced back over his shoulder at me. A faint, cryptic smile played on his lips. It took me a long time to understand that smile. It was the smug grin of a man who had clawed his way out of hell, knowing full well who he’d left behind to take his place. ... Day three of Leah's abandonment. Still no word. Not a text, not a call. Nothing. "Boss, you think this broad is playing us? Three days and not a goddamn peep!" a heavyset brute growled. As if to punctuate his frustration, he snatched a rattan cane from the floor and lashed it across my back. I'd been starved for three days straight. The festering wounds on my body were so deep you could see bone. In the forty-degree heat of the dilapidated warehouse, the cuts had started to rot, a sweet, sickening stench rising from my own flesh. I summoned my last ounce of strength, reaching for a crust of bread someone had dropped on the filthy floor. Before my fingers could touch it, a boot came down, snapping the bones in my right hand with a sickening crunch. The man they called "Scar" grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. His face, a roadmap of old fights, was etched with impatience and a chilling brutality. "You'd better pray to whatever god you believe in that your little wife isn't screwing with me," he snarled, "or else..." He punctuated the threat with a vicious kick to my stomach. A supernova of pain exploded behind my eyes. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. Only bitter acid dribbled from the corner of my mouth. "Fuck! Disgusting!" Scar spat, stepping back to avoid the mess. He planted his boot on my chest and ground his heel in. "String him up!" Rough hands hauled me to my feet. My arms were wrenched behind my back and tied to a pipe overhead. The rope bit into my skin, a searing, white-hot agony. My head lolled forward, sweat and blood mixing, dripping into my eyes and blurring my vision. "The hell is wrong with you? Are you even her husband?" Scar taunted, his voice dripping with scorn. "It's been three days! She hasn't sent a single message, but she's got time to go gallivanting up some mountain with pretty-boy, watching the fucking sunrise and sunset." He sneered. "What are you, the pathetic side-piece she dumped?" His words were like shards of glass, piercing my heart, stealing the air from my lungs. He was talking about the picture on my phone. The one Chuck had posted to his social media feed yesterday. A photo of him and Leah, beaming. The caption read: Nothing like a beautiful sunrise to clear your head after getting out of the hospital. In the picture, they looked like they were on a blissful vacation. Another photo showed them at a five-star restaurant, feasting on a lavish meal. They were the ones on a honeymoon. And me? I was here, in this living hell, where every minute was an eternity, unable to get so much as a sip of clean water. And from Leah? Absolute silence. Rage simmered within me, but I was too weak from hunger to even fuel it. All I could do was pray for the seven days to pass quickly. The moment I get out of here, I swear to God, I'm divorcing her. But I had still, foolishly, overestimated my place in her world. The promised week came and went. There was no sign of Leah. Not even a text message. The truth finally crashed down on me. I'd been abandoned. Her promises, her "love," it was all just a smokescreen to get Chuck out. And I was the pawn she'd sacrificed without a second thought. "Boss, what's the plan now?" a wiry-looking thug asked nervously. Scar shot a disgusted look in my direction and raked a hand through his greasy hair. "The plan? What do you think the plan is? The bitch played us for fools!" The wiry one made a slicing motion across his throat. "So, we just... off him?" SMACK! Scar slapped him hard across the back of the head. "Off him? Are you a fucking idiot? We kill him, we get nothing!" he roared. "Keep an eye on this piece of shit. I want to see what that bitch's next move is. But if the money doesn't show up soon... go find a buyer for his kidneys." I lay on the cold concrete, their words washing over me, my heart turning to ash. An image of Chuck's pale face flashed in my mind, that strange, victorious smile he'd given me as he left. So that's what it was. The smile of a winner. And I was the fool, kept in the dark, played from the very beginning. I thought Leah and I had something real. I thought we were building a future. In the end, it was all just a story I'd told myself. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair pulling me under. I was ready to give up, to just let go. But then, a sudden, jarring sound cut through the silence. My phone was ringing. "Boss, it's a call!" the wiry thug yelled, snatching up my phone. He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening. "It's her! It's Leah!" My heart, which I thought had died, suddenly slammed against my ribs, a frantic, desperate beat. She finally called. I held my breath, every fiber of my being straining to hear her voice. But in the next second, my world plunged into an abyss.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393462", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel