He Sent Me to Prison to Marry Another Woman

Robin let out an exaggerated laugh. “Wow! You’re out of prison! And working as a hostess? What a coincidence.”

He stepped closer, his tone dripping with mockery. “You must be desperate for money. Tell you what—crawl over here, entertain us, and we’ll forget about the wine.”

Margarita felt Wade’s cold gaze cut through her like a blade, pressing her down, suffocating her.

She had no escape. No dignity left to protect.

Biting her lip, she forced herself onto her knees. The glass shards dug into her skin as she crawled forward, each movement a fresh wound, each breath a silent humiliation.

The air was sharp against her exposed back, making her shiver.

The room held its breath. Then—

A splash.

The deep red liquid spilled over her bare skin, trickling down her spine in slow, sticky rivulets.

Margarita flinched, her shoulders curling inward on instinct.

The silence was deafening. No one knew what Wade was thinking. They exchanged uncertain glances, and, one by one, they found excuses to leave.

Wade smiled at Casey, his voice deceptively soft. “Be good. Wait outside with them.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Before stepping out, Casey cast a fleeting glance at Margarita. Her expression was unreadable.

The door clicked shut.

Without warning, Wade’s hand shot out, grabbing Margarita’s throat and shoving her onto the sofa.

"Margarita," he murmured, eyes dark and seething. "The moment you got out of prison, you became a hostess. What, dignity doesn’t matter to you anymore?"

She forced out a bitter laugh. “After all, I killed your sister. My family went bankrupt. I lost everything. I was locked away for six years… I have to survive somehow, don’t I?”

The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down, twisting her pain into mockery.

Wade’s fingers trailed down her damp back, slow, deliberate. Hatred burned in his gaze.

His grip on her wrist tightened, voice low and dangerous.

“No one in this nightclub has more money than me. If you’re so eager to sell yourself, then sell to me.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing against her skin. “Buy something sexy for Casey and me tonight. Pick well, and I’ll pay you 1,500 dollars. That should be enough for someone like you, right?”

Margarita’s chest clenched, the pain suffocating.

This was revenge. He wanted to break her, humiliate her.

And he was succeeding.

—

That night, she watched as Casey slipped into the dress she had bought.

She stood there, silent, as Wade pulled Casey into a kiss, his hands roaming her body.

Margarita should have looked away.

But she didn’t.

Her empty gaze followed every movement, every touch. She knew his habits too well. She could predict where his lips would land before he even moved.

The throat. The collarbone. The waist. The abdomen. Even the soft curve of the calf.

Every kiss, every caress—things that once belonged to her—were now given to another woman.

The edges of her vision blurred, dark spots creeping in. The only sounds left were Casey’s breathy moans and Wade’s ragged sighs.

After it was over, Wade disappeared into the bathroom.

Casey took Margarita’s hand, her fingers light, almost affectionate. “After you disappeared, I stayed by Wade’s side.”

Margarita said nothing.

Casey lowered her voice, watching her carefully. “I never planned to love him, but I did. If you don’t want me to be with him—”

“I don’t mind.”

Her voice was eerily calm. “You can have him.”

Bang—

The bathroom door slammed open.

Wade stepped out, his damp hair dripping onto his bare shoulders, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

His furious gaze locked onto Margarita. Then, in a softer voice, he turned to Casey.

“I don’t need a criminal’s permission to be with you.” His tone was cold, mocking. “I keep her around so no one thinks I, Wade, am a pathetic man who lost everything after a single blow.”