The Obsessive Husband's Golden Prison

Addison Ball POV:

"Are you absolutely certain, Mrs. Parker?" The doctor' s voice was gentle, almost a plea. Her eyes held a deep concern.

"Twin pregnancies are quite rare, you know. A true blessing." She paused, letting the words hang in the air.

I nodded, my throat tight. "I'm certain, Doctor." My voice was a flat, hollow whisper.

She sighed, a soft, sorrowful sound. "As you wish. We'll prepare everything."

I walked back into the penthouse, the silence echoing my inner void. Every corner, every expensive piece of furniture, screamed of his deception.

Balloons floated near the ceiling. A lavish banner proclaimed, "Happy Birthday, My Love!"

My heart felt like a shriveled prune. The irony was a cruel joke.

"Surprise!" Addison sprang from behind the couch, a wide, dazzling smile on his face. He rushed towards me.

He enveloped me in a tight hug. His arms felt heavy, suffocating.

He kissed my forehead, then my lips. It felt wrong. Dirty.

"You're back early," I managed, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

"Couldn't miss my wife's birthday, could I?" He winked, leading me to a table laden with gifts.

His hand grazed mine. That's when I saw it. A small, flesh-colored Band-Aid on his index finger.

My gaze snagged on it. A tiny flicker of suspicion, cold and sharp.

He pulled his hand back, a tad too quickly. "Broken glass," he mumbled, a dismissive wave.

But the shape of it. It wasn't a cut. It was a perfect, crescent-shaped indentation. A bite mark.

From Esmeralda. His ex-wife. The 'free vibrator.'

He gestured to a velvet box on the table. "Open it, love." His voice was smooth, confident.

I lifted the lid. A necklace lay nestled inside. Diamonds, glittering against a dark velvet cushion.

He reached for it, his fingers brushing my neck as he clasped it around me. A shiver of revulsion ran down my spine.

He adjusted my hair, his lips brushing my ear. "Beautiful, just like you." His voice was a soft murmur.

I saw it then, in the reflection of the mirror across the room. The necklace. It looked familiar.

Esmeralda had worn one just like it. A rejected gift, probably. A hand-me-down from his 'fire.'

His words, meant to be sweet, felt like venom. I wanted to tear it off.