I Donated My Eye to the Man Who Betrayed Me

The morning sun filtered through the mansion's windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors. I hadn't slept. How could I? The wedding dress still hung on my body like a mockery of everything I'd believed in.

I heard the front door open and close, followed by hushed voices in the foyer. My heart lurched painfully against my ribs as I recognized Benedict's deep timbre, mingled with Lexi's soft murmurs.

They appeared at the top of the staircase—Benedict carrying the boy, Lexi clinging to his arm. She wore one of his shirts, her red lipstick smudged from what I could only assume was a night of comfort. The boy's eyes were puffy from crying, his small fingers curled around Benedict's collar.

"Elise." Benedict's voice carried no apology, only mild surprise at finding me still here. "You should have gone home."

Home. As if this wasn't supposed to be our home. As if I hadn't spent five years building a life with him.

"This is Jamie," he continued, setting the boy down. "Lexi's son. My son."

Lexi's eyes gleamed with triumph as she watched me process this information. The boy—Jamie—hid behind her legs, peeking out at me with practiced shyness.

"I've arranged for Lexi and Jamie to stay in the penthouse until her creditors are dealt with," Benedict announced, brushing past me toward the kitchen. "It's the safest option."

I followed him, my wedding dress rustling against the floor. "Benedict, what about the basement? The shrine you built for her?"

He froze, his back to me. When he turned, his expression was cold and distant—the look he reserved for difficult business negotiations.

"That was risk management," he said flatly. "Lexi represented a potential liability. I needed to monitor her activities to protect my interests."

"Risk management?" My voice cracked. "You called it risk management?"

"Don't be dramatic, Elise. It's business." He adjusted his cufflinks—a nervous habit I'd always found endearing before. Now it just seemed calculating. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."

---

The next morning, I woke to the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the guest room where I'd spent the night. The door opened without a knock.

"Breakfast is served, Miss Rose." Lexi stood there in a black maid's uniform, her red lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

My stomach lurched. "What are you doing?"

"Ben thought it would be... appropriate." She tilted her head. "He wants you to feel like the lady of the house."

I followed her to the formal dining room, where Benedict sat reading the Wall Street Journal. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Lexi will be serving us until this situation with her creditors is resolved," he said casually, turning a page. "I thought it fitting."

Lexi moved around the table with practiced efficiency, pouring coffee and placing a plate of eggs before me. Her hands trembled slightly—the only sign of her humiliation.

"Will there be anything else, Miss Rose?" she asked, her voice honey-sweet with poison underneath.

I stared at Benedict, waiting for him to see how sick this was. How twisted.

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" I asked quietly.

He finally looked up, his eyes cold. "It's a practical arrangement. You get the service you deserve, and Lexi earns her keep."

I pushed the plate away, appetite gone. "This isn't about service. This is about you needing to control both of us."

---

That evening, I dressed carefully for dinner—a navy dress that had once been Benedict's favorite. I needed to discuss our business interests, the companies we'd built together during his recovery.

"The Henderson merger needs your signature by tomorrow," I said as we sat across from each other at the dining table. Lexi hovered nearby, Jamie clutching her skirt.

Benedict nodded absently. "I'll review the documents in the morning."

"And the Rose-Price Foundation quarterly report—"

A high-pitched wail cut through my words. Jamie had started crying, his face red and blotchy.

"Daddy Ben!" he sobbed, reaching for Benedict. "Daddy Ben!"

Lexi's eyes met mine over the child's head, a flash of victory in them. I'd seen her pinch him under the table—a quick, vicious motion disguised as adjusting his napkin.

Benedict was immediately on his feet, gathering the boy into his arms. "It's okay, Jamie. Daddy's here."

He glared at me as he coddled the child. "Can we discuss this later? Lexi's been through enough without your insensitivity."

I stared at him, this stranger wearing my fiancé's face. "Insensitivity?"

"Jamie needs stability," he said firmly. "Lexi needs support. Your business discussions can wait."

As he carried Jamie from the room, Lexi trailed behind them, throwing one last triumphant glance over her shoulder.

I sat alone at the table, the untouched meal growing cold before me. For the first time since the wedding disaster, I wondered if there was anything left to salvage—or if I'd been blind all along.