After My Groom Poisoned Me, He Married His Mistress Instead

The training gym was silent at dawn, the air still and cool against my skin. I'd slipped out of bed before the household stirred, my bare feet making no sound on the marble floors. Three years of captivity had taught me to move like a ghost when necessary.

I needed to know the truth.

The wooden training dummy stood in the center of the mat, its weathered surface marked with countless impacts. I approached it slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was a basic combat drill—something I could have completed blindfolded before Chicago.

"Let's see what's left of you," I whispered to myself.

I circled the dummy once, twice, feeling the familiar rhythm in my bones. Then I lunged forward, aiming a simple jab at its center mass.

My arm trembled violently mid-strike.

The punch missed entirely, my fist sailing past the target as my body betrayed me. I stumbled forward, catching myself against the dummy's sturdy frame.

"Again," I growled, stepping back.

This time I tried a basic kick—a move that had once sent grown men flying. My leg shook like a leaf in a storm, refusing to follow my command. The nerve endings in my limbs screamed in protest.

"Stop fighting it," I told myself. "Relax and let the body remember."

But my body didn't remember. It had been rewired, sabotaged from within.

I collapsed to my knees, sweat beading on my forehead despite the morning chill. The truth crashed down on me with devastating clarity—Kaiser hadn't just sold me to Chicago. He had poisoned me first, ensuring I couldn't fight back.

The man I loved had systematically destroyed me.

---

The gala glittered with false promises and sharper lies. Crystal glasses clinked, expensive perfumes mingled in the air, and beneath it all ran the current of violence that defined our world.

I stood by the window, watching the performance unfold. Kaiser had positioned me as a decorative object—his broken trophy wife.

"Eileen." Octavia's voice dripped with honey-coated venom. "You look absolutely exhausted. Are you feeling alright?"

I turned to find her blocking the doorway to the ladies' room. Her silk dress clung to her curves, and her eyes sparkled with malicious delight.

"I'm perfectly fine," I replied, stepping around her.

She followed me into the marble sanctuary, her heels clicking against the floor. "You know, I've always wondered what Kaiser saw in you. Now I understand—he pities you."

I ignored her, checking my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger—hollow-cheeked and hard-eyed.

"He touched me last night," Octavia continued, leaning against the counter. "His hands were so gentle. So loving." She sighed dramatically. "He says I'm everything he's ever wanted."

Something flickered in my chest—not jealousy, but a cold, clear rage.

"You're pathetic," I said quietly, reaching for the door handle.

"He'll never want you again!" Octavia's voice rose sharply. "You're damaged goods!"

I paused, my hand on the door. "And you're a liability he'll discard when convenient."

Her face contorted with fury. Before I could react, she pulled something from her clutch—a small razor blade. With a practiced motion, she dragged it across her own forearm, blood welling from the shallow cut.

"Help!" she screamed, her voice piercing the elegant silence. "She's trying to kill me!"

The door burst open. Kaiser stood there, his eyes wild with rage. Behind him, several of his men crowded the doorway, guns drawn.

"Kaiser!" Octavia sobbed, collapsing into his arms. "She attacked me—out of jealousy! Look what she did!"

Kaiser's gaze fell on the blood staining her arm, then lifted to my face. I stood perfectly still, my expression neutral.

"I didn't touch her," I said calmly.

"Liar!" Octavia shrieked. "She's insane! She tried to slash my throat!"

Kaiser's face hardened into something unrecognizable. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the bathroom and away from the stunned guests.

---

"You're too dangerous to remain here," Kaiser hissed, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulled me through the mansion's back corridors. "Too unstable."

"I didn't do anything," I repeated for the third time.

"It doesn't matter what you did!" he snarled, shoving me toward the waiting car. "What matters is what you're capable of!"

Two guards flanked me, their hands hovering near their weapons. The night air was cool against my skin as Kaiser opened the car door.

"The Sanctuary will be your home now," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Until you can control yourself."

I didn't resist as they pushed me inside. Through the window, I watched the mansion recede into darkness. The Sanctuary—a dilapidated psychiatric facility on the edge of the estate, where syndicate members went to disappear.

"You can't do this," I said quietly as the car pulled away.

Kaiser leaned down, his face level with mine. "I already have."

The gates of the Sanctuary loomed ahead—rusty iron promising confinement rather than care. As we approached, I caught a glimpse of the barred windows and crumbling stone walls.

Kaiser had taken everything from me—my strength, my freedom, my dignity.

But he had made one critical mistake.

He had left me alive.