My Husband Had Two Anniversaries… And I Was Neither

I heard faint sobbing coming from the garden and my legs moved before my brain could catch up. I stepped closer, ducking under the drooping wisteria, and froze.

Felix. My husband. Dressed in a suit, looking untouchable, a predator in every sense. He held a soft leather whip, striking Shannon over and over. She was tied to the antique chaise lounge I had spent weeks choosing for our villa, completely naked.

And then, just like that, he dropped the whip, leaned over her, and kissed her. Hard. Dominant. His hands everywhere, his sweat slick on his back.

My stomach turned over. My chest felt ripped open, bleeding in ways I didn’t even know were possible.

It wasn’t sobbing I’d heard. It was her moans. Pleasure. Laughter whispered through her gasps. The so-called “punishment” I’d imagined wasn’t torture. It was… love. Their love. The prison he’d spoken of all those times wasn’t a cell. It was their playroom. Their nest.

I stumbled backward, staring at the chaise lounge I had painstakingly picked out for him, imagining him sitting there with me, hands blistered from carrying the weight of my life in his hands. He’d said once, soft but with fire, “Danica deserves all the beauty in the world. This lounge is yours alone. And so is my love.”

Now it wasn’t mine. Not mine at all.

My hands clenched until they bled, pain ripping through me. Why? Why the hell would he do this?

And then I started listening.

“Honey, you’re amazing. I’m so happy,” Shannon said, her face flushed and glowing. “Just thinking about how I finally married you makes me feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You deserve it,” Felix said, calm, almost casual, sliding on his shirt like the chaos behind him didn’t exist. His voice was velvet with steel.

I froze at what he said next.

“Four years ago, all I wanted was for Danica to stay here, to be with me forever. And you,” he hissed, “you took an axe and chopped off her hand so she could never chase her dreams again. Then you turn yourself in like some idiot martyr, thinking even if you rot in jail, my happiness matters more than yours.”

I felt like someone was dragging a knife through my chest.

“I ask myself if I’m heartless,” he continued, “but I can’t ignore selfless love like that. Danica can have my love openly, you only get to hide in this villa. I give you a title. That’s fair.”

Fair? Fair? Wow.

I staggered back, heart pounding, eyes burning. Years ago, a noble brat mocked me, called me a broken-winged angel, and Felix made him eat his own tongue, cold as ice. And now he’s here, kissing the woman who shattered me, giving her gifts, giving her his life, giving her… a title.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to vanish.

“What if she finds out?” Shannon asked, voice worried, “Miss McKellar won’t accept it.”

Felix smiled, calm, his power radiating from every pore. “My love for Danica has never changed. I’ll protect her for life. She’ll never know. And she’ll never be hurt by you again.”

He knelt and placed a pink diamond on Shannon’s hand.

Shannon gasped, eyes wide. “This is the final item from Paris’ auction a few days ago. Worth a hundred million. Am I… worthy?”

“You’re my woman, baby.” He kissed her gently, and my blood froze. “Of course you’re worthy. Happy fourth anniversary, my wife.”

And I stood there, broken, watching the man I loved, the man who’d sworn I was his world, give himself to someone else.

...

I didn’t leave the mountain until his black car disappeared down the road. I just stood there for a long time, like my body forgot how to move, like if I moved everything would become real.

My phone started vibrating in my hand. I looked down at it, numb, and tapped the screen.

[Danica, I’m on my way home. I can’t wait to celebrate our seventh anniversary with my darling. Love you.]

For a second, I didn’t react. Then I laughed. God… I laughed so hard I had to bend over, my shoulders shaking, tears streaming down my face like I’d gone insane. Seventh anniversary? He had just finished celebrating four years with another woman, and now he was coming home to celebrate seven years with me? What was I to him? A joke? A pet? Or just… someone too stupid to notice?

There was no seventh anniversary. We had been divorced for four years. Four whole years. And love? If Felix’s version of love was cutting off my future, locking me in a golden cage, and lying straight to my face… then I didn’t want it anymore. Not even a little.

He said I’d never find out. I wiped my tears, my fingers trembling. “No,” I whispered to myself. “You’re the one who’s going to lose me.” Forever.

I tightened my grip on the application form in my hand, the paper crumpling under my fingers, then I turned around and did the only two things that mattered.

First, I applied to erase myself. Every identity record I had in this country. Gone. Clean. Like I never existed. Second, I submitted my application again. Under a new name. A new life. A new me.

four years ago, when Shannon cut off my right hand, she didn’t just take it, she threw it to wild dogs like I was nothing. Felix lost his mind back then, spent billions, replace and transplant me a hand that looked real enough to fool anyone. It worked, I could live normally, but I couldn’t operate the way I used to. I was a surgeon, precision was everything, and now… it was gone. My dream died that day.

I tried to follow it. Three times. Three times I tried to end everything. And failed. After that I cried until I couldn’t anymore, night after night until my throat burned and my chest felt hollow, and then one day I forced myself to stop. I went to hand rehab for my transplant hand. Simple, right? It wasn’t. It was hell. More than a thousand days and nights, blood and pain, my fingers splitting open, calluses forming and breaking again and again. But I made it. I fucking made it. I got back to where I could stand again.

I kept it from Felix. I wanted to surprise him, wanted him to see that the woman he “loved” didn’t break so easily. Now? I was just glad I didn’t tell him. If he knew… would he have taken both of my hands too? The thought made my stomach twist.

My phone buzzed again. I looked down.

“Your cancellation application has been submitted and will be processed within eight business days.”

Eight days. After eight days, I’d be gone. No name. No trace. Even someone like Felix, with all his power, all his connections, he wouldn’t find someone who didn’t exist.