For His Mistress, He Stole My Sight

I was kidnapped by my own husband.

The man who used to kiss my paint-stained hands and say I was his muse.

Turns out, he just wanted my corneas. Not for himself… but for his first love.

I woke to the smell of antiseptic and something sharp, metallic. Voices floated through the fog in my mind.

“Boss, you sure you want to use Mrs. McIntosh’s eyes for that woman?”

“Amber gave me a daughter. She paid for it with her sight. She’s getting it back. I take care of what’s mine.” Howard’s voice was calm, and dangerous.

A daughter.

He wasn’t just sleeping with her. He had a child with her.

My stomach twisted. My brushes, my canvases, the life I thought we shared… it all felt like a painted lie peeling off the wall.

Then I heard a softer voice. A woman.

“Howard… the doctor said it worked. Soon I’ll be able to see.”

“You’ve been blind since you had Hanna. You’ve never even looked at our girl. She looks just like you.”

“When Faye wakes up, she’ll realize she’s blind. I’ll tell her you’re the nanny I hired to help around the house. Hanna will be the orphan of an old friend. She won’t see the truth. Literally.”

Amber hesitated. “What if you two end up having a baby later? Won’t Hanna be pushed aside?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Faye will never have another child. I made sure she has the implant. Hanna will be my only heir.”

Something in me snapped then. The man I loved had just sentenced my body, my art, my sight to a lifetime of darkness… for her.

Amber’s voice turned sugary. “Howard, you always keep your word.”

That sweetness made my skin crawl. I knew her voice now. She used to be his secretary. Left a year ago, supposedly married. But she was carrying his child instead.

Four years of marriage. Not one real fight. He always put me first or so I thought. All this time he was building a life with her behind my back.

I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped me.

The sound made them pause.

“She’s coming around,” Howard muttered. “Go wait in the car.”

The door clicked shut.

I stayed still, tears soaking the pillow, until his footsteps came back. He sat beside me, his hand brushing my hair back like I was fragile glass.

“Faye. It’s me. You’re safe now,” he said softly.

The TV in the corner broadcast him leading a citywide manhunt for his “missing wife.” A perfect performance.

“Howard… why can’t I see anything?”

There was the smallest pause before he replied, “The men who took you… they sold your corneas. I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve protected you. But you don’t have to be afraid. From now on, I’ll be your eyes.”

I let him hold me, his scent thick with cologne and lies. My chest felt hollow, my hands empty, like every color had been drained from the world.

Because deep down, I already knew.

It wasn't the kidnappers who stole my sight.

It was Howard. My fucking husband!

I didn’t say a word.

I had been there for Howard when his whole world fell apart. The year his grandfather died, the McIntosh empire collapsed, and half the city turned their backs on him, I stayed. I was the one who begged my grandfather to help him keep his head above water. And even used my billion savings for his company secretly.

He’d looked at me back then like I was his salvation. Said he’d rebuild the McIntosh name brick by brick, and when the day came, he’d give me the kind of wedding no one in London would ever forget.

I believed him. And he kept his word. In two years, he had crushed his rivals, reclaimed the business, and climbed to the top.

I still remember the press conference. Cameras flashing, the smell of cigars in the air, him pulling out a diamond ring and kneeling like we were in some fairytale. “Faye,” he’d said, “I designed this ring myself. Only one in the world. Like you. Like my love for you. Without you, I’m nothing. And I’m not with you because I owe you… I’m with you because I love you. Marry me.”

That clip was everywhere the next day. Headlines called me the luckiest woman alive. Every girl in the city wanted my life. And maybe Howard did love me once… but that didn’t stop him from breaking me for someone else.

Amber.

For her, he’d risked everything. Including me.

When my sobs quieted, he asked gently, “You feeling okay? You want something to eat? I can make that soup you like.”

He always remembered my stomach problems. Back then, I would’ve smiled and said yes. Now, the offer made my skin crawl. He wasn’t being sweet… he was just trying to wash the blood off his conscience.

“Sure,” I muttered. “Soup sounds good.” Anything to get him out of the room.

Even though it was a hospital, I could tell it was one of his private suites. More like a penthouse than a ward. He had everything in here, down to a fully stocked kitchen.

When he left, I groped for the phone on the nightstand. Smooth glass, no buttons. I pressed the side until it buzzed.